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ghost girl Nov 2016
thank you
for everything.
thank you for all of
our greatest moments,
thank you for our triumphs,
for our growths, for our victories.
and even for our losses, thank you for
the injuries. thank you for loving me, and for
destroying me. because in the wake of you, I have
learned more than I ever could have imagined. I am more
myself than I have been my whole life. you showed me what love
can be, and what love should be, and definitely what love isn't. you
showed me that I could break away from the things that
wreck me. that I can still grow and change and
become a more perfect version of a flawed
and broken girl. thank you for giving
me that strength. thank you for
loving me. thank you for
being the first, and
but the most for
not being my
last.
ghost girl Dec 2016
did you know?
when you laid hands
on this fire skin the
flames that licked
underneath?
did you see the
way your palm
seared itself into
my skin? marks like
that rarely last
but days and
days
and days
later,
that mark is
still there

and god, I realized
how you pulled
me out of that
burning abyss
I realized
you
saved me
from drowning
in this ocean
of myself
and I can't
thank you
enough
but god I'm
sorry for the
way things still come
out of my mouth
like terrified
little
whispers

I'm sorry I'm
still wading in this
river of fear
because I know
you're nothing
like what
came
before
you
but I'm scared
I'm still
there
you know?
that girl
from before
and I are
nothing alike these days but I feel her sometimes creeping under my skin telling me you loved a monster you are a monster he'll never love you nothing will ever be okay just wait for the day he leaves and you forget how to catch your breath

I don't know how to
shut her up, but I know
neither of us deserves
her breathing down our
necks
but know
just know
I am
so grateful
for the way
you don't
put me
back together
but the way you
hold onto me
while I do
it
my
*self
ghost girl Dec 2017
doomed myself
to sisyphus

watching that boulder
roll past me

day after day
year after year

doomed myself
to narcissus

drowning in
the oceans of

my own expectation
for eternity

i am complexes,
i am enigmas

i am nothing i have
designed for myself

i am trapped in the round
tables of beauty and purpose

that have been created in
circle after circle after

circle and someday i yearn
to press my palm

through the surface for
what's beneath

and someday i will
destroy that boulder

and neither will rule
my existence

and i will be free
from that circle

someday.
someday.
ghost girl Oct 2016
tender little fingertips
too afraid to let go -
tracing at the frail
lines of your bittersweetest
existence.

and they'll tell you
to wait it out
to let it be,
let you sink
while demanding
you rise beyond
hand-drawn lines.
ghost girl Oct 2019
the ghosts in the attic
play melodies on the piano,
something about how
love will always end
in destruction, either in life
or after death.

they tell us stories of the
ocean, how she can carry a
ship yet slip through your fingers,
how she kisses the shores,
yet she's always in pull
to the moon.

the ghosts in the attic tell
us how your soul will always
be bound to the places that
harmed you the most, how you
will move through walls but
you'll always sink right back
to the stain on the carpet.

they tell you to learn how to be
good with your hands, to paint
the love you feel on every canvas
you touch, to carry a heart gently
but know to make a fist when needed.

they tell us how they lived and
died in agony, how they watch
the living do the same. how the cycle
repeats itself, how the ghosts
in the attic become us,
how we become them.
ghost girl May 2018
all I want
in this life
is to no
longer be in
possession of
this life.
ghost girl Jan 2019
I dream about magic.
about bending time
and undoing the strings
of mistakes that land
me here every night,
the ocean of regret
and longing.

I dream about the
drifting, the days
I spent pushing you
away and the night
I spent falling into
the wrong arms.

my favorite dream is the
one where we go to bed
together, where
we should have been
all along.

that's the dream. the
longing is the nightmare.
ghost girl Oct 2019
there are days the sun
captures me, pulls me back
into life and I feel it in every
cell of my body, light and
warmth and life.

and there are days I am
desperate for the ground to
open up and swallow me,
to blink out of existence,
for the planet to turn
without me on it.

the sunny days are few
and far between. I spend
far too much time with my
feet firm on the ground
waiting for departure.

I'm so afraid the time will
come where the sun isn't
enough anymore, and I won't
be enough anymore and
I'll give up waiting
for the departure and
leave by myself.
ghost girl Dec 2014
Long after existence has ceased,
I will have loved you.
Oceans will dry up and stars will burn out,
And I will have loved you.
This planet will no longer rotate on its axis
And I will have felt your lips against my neck,
Your fingers will have found their way up my spine
And I will have loved you.
The abyss will swallow us whole
But you will have loved me.
ghost girl Apr 2013
Her lips shiver, shatter like glass
Pepper the ground
Slice your aching feet
Yet you bend to collect the shards
Glue her back together, kiss
Her broken smile.

Her fingertips melt fire into
Your skin, but you don’t seem to mind
Don’t seem to mind that she inhales
Part of you every time
She breathes in too deep
She doesn’t seem to mind that your ribs crack
Beneath her palms
Each time her fingers trace your skin

She is the permanence of your spine
You are the ache in her chest.
So easily forgets when you fall
She will be the one to pull you to your feet
She forgets that as intertwined as she is
With you
You are an ending
Without her.
ghost girl Nov 2014
I don’t want to be a delicate ******* flower
I want to be made of stone
I want to be a formidable tower
I want to be a battering ram
I don’t want to watch the world’s eyes pass over me
Like they do every ******* day
I don’t want to be the paper-hearted girl anymore
Because my heart always ends up torn and shredded
And balled up in some trash bin because
Somebody ****** up and decided to start over
But the funny thing is, you don’t get a new heart
Once it’s been broken. You left me with no other
Option but to fish my crumpled paper heart out of the
Trash, to smooth out and to erase the marks you left
But you can still see the wrinkles and the imprints
Of what was written. There’s no fresh heart for me.
There’s no replacing the petals that were lost to the
“He loves me, he loves me not” game. I may be
Made of stone, but I am just a pebble thrown
Around by the smallest body of water.
I may be a tower, but I’m a lego tower
And just the fist of a child could destroy me.
And ******* my paper heart.
Did you have to write your name in pen?
sorry for all the *****
ghost girl Jul 2013
You are not just a name
Lurking on the tip of my tongue
The backbone of every thought,
But a state of mind.
You’re the lace that holds my ribs together
The ribbon binding me into shape

The blood that rushes beneath my skin
Remembers exactly where your fingers
Once touched
Your lips once lay
Pressing your love into my skin
As if I am your paper, your fingers are ink
Turning me into a letter only you and I could read

And I do, I read it over and over
Anxious for the next letter to be burned
This is my skin, for you,
A thousand different love letters.
ghost girl Apr 2019
the lull, the longing,
the ache  just before sleep
and just before wake -
the quiet, rhythmic
shushing, the weight,
the heaviness.
it's too dark, but
it's too bright, too
much, not enough,
too warm, too cold.
always too something.
never quite enough.
it's the swell of the sky
just before the rain,
the stillness and the hush
around midnight just
before it snows. it's
the creeping feeling
of change, of danger,
of letting go, of giving
up - it's how the winds
change, it's the stack
of papers blowing
away in the sudden
gust. it's the boys
who promise to
never hurt you while
they're untying their shoes,
unbuttoning their pants.
it's how they sneak out
after you've fallen asleep,
the cancer in the way
they kiss your forehead
just before they go.
it's your father holding
your small hands, and
your father's weight
after he buckles under
too many beers. it's how
no matter how many times
your he disappoints you,
you'll always call him daddy
when he finally comes around.
it's your father being the first
man to break all the promises
he made you and it's your aching
little girl's heart believing
him too many times. it's your
mother telling you to be better,
but never showing
you how to be better.
it's the way your mother tells you
to be safe but never teaches
you how to say no,
how to tell the boys when
enough is enough -
how fingertips creeping up too far,
how hands slipping down too low
should never feel like a debt to be paid.
she doesn't tell you how that sudden
vacancy in your mind is a warning
sign, how it's a quiet no,
and that maybe will never be a quiet yes.
it's the teachers telling
you that boys will be boys,
telling you that girls are mean
and to get over it and handle
it among yourselves because
there's no referees in real life.
it's lies that sound like promises
and words like forever and love
and ipromiseillneverleaveyou
hitting your heart like a brick.
it's empty beds and empty
houses and empty cupboards
and ghost towns in your chest
and abandoned homes in your
head and it's the way ghosts
never leave the places that
harmed them the most. it's
how falling asleep every night
feels like the battle and waking
up every morning feels like
the war and it's the way that
no matter how many times
you fight, nothing's ever won.
ghost girl Jan 2013
You are not
The whine on my lips
Not the
Whiskey
Sitting crooked
Inside me.
You are not
The restless thing in my chest
Fighting the minded cage

You are
The violence beating in my chest
The nothingness that burns
That aches.
You are the fingers
Lifting the glass
To my lips
And the reason
I don’t
Sleep
At night.
ghost girl Oct 2016
all those little things
I believed to be fate
turn out to be
simple
coincidence.
ghost girl Apr 2013
You are alone
Hands shoved deep within your pockets
As if you search for the secrets you’ve long since lost.
The winter's hush settles over you with grey sky
And, eyes closed, you let yourself move with
The rushing sounds of the river down below
As the snow begins to pepper the earth in silence.

Open your eyes
Remove your clenched fists from your pockets
Keep walking, this water is no friend to you
And the girl you dream about,
She waits for you far along the shore
In that white dress you've grown to love so much
Don’t you worry she’s cold?
ghost girl Dec 2014
it's sort of like a big yellow school bus
the way it hits me sometimes,
the way I miss you;
and it corrodes my insides
until there's a void in my soul
that's shaped like you.
and even if I could carve you out of my bones
I don't think I ever would.
ghost girl Jun 2014
When I met you
Roses grew out of the tangled bones of my rib cage
Grew down the lengths of my body like ivy
Thorns holding on tight to skin, fed by blood.
It’s been awhile
And lonely, lovesick girls have plucked all my petals
Does he love me? Does he love me not?
A little girl in particular with dark eyes and a quiet soul
Looked at me with guilt
As she tore off my final petal
And I was nothing but vine.
She whispered, he loves me.
She smiled so bright and big, her lips cracked til they bled.
I remembered that smile, remembered the blood
Dripping down my chin, just as it dripped from my fingertips now.
I told her, baby girl,
It doesn’t matter how much he loves you
If he doesn’t bother to water the roses he left in your ribs.
ghost girl Dec 2017
it is your
two good hands.
it is your beating heart
threaded into my skin.
it is your greedy mouth
stealing the breath from mine.
it is your violent fingertips,
your vicious palms,
leaving their trace
across every *****
of my body.
it is your two good
hands.
ghost girl Jun 2020
it hits at the worst times.
the in and out flashes,
the people and the places we used to be.
it's like a pinched nerve,
a sprained ankle,
a sunburn -
the backwards ache of unrighted wrongs
and wounds that never healed right.
the constant reminders of
the loss and the longing
and the sting of all those things
I can't quite let go.
all of them. all of you.
ghost girl Feb 2019
nothing is permanent.
but then again,
nothing is permanent.
ghost girl Sep 2019
I dream about you, still.
to this day. it's been months.
feels like years.

I dream about your hesitation,
your fear, your want to keep me
            away.

I dream about your melt, how
you can't resist, the way you loved me.
love me. never enough.
          always too much.

you push(ed) me away,
but still,
you always find your way back.

(wait. have waited. will wait.)
(loved, have loved, will love.)
ghost girl Jan 2021
sometimes I can't help feeling this
is the dream, the one where I relive
my entire life, just before I die.
ghost girl Sep 2018
push us together
                                  pull us apart
i'm sorry it has to be this way
ghost girl Mar 2015
fell asleep,
woke up to a blank TV screen,
to “contact is now offline,”
to no new messages,
to an empty house,
cold and alone.

there is only me,
and god, I hate me.
ghost girl Jul 2017
you.
you left a
bad taste
in my mouth -
your name,
remembering
the selfishness
of every kiss,
the greed in
every touch.
your poison
will not leave
my system -
I cannot forget
you, and that is
not sweet sentiment.
I cannot forget you
in the way someone
can't forget losing a
limb. I can't forget
you in the way you
look at a scar and
remember how the
wound ached and
bled. you're not
scar, though -
you're festering
wound that will
not heal. you're
bone deep infection,
spreading cancer,
airborne disease,
harming every facet
of my life. I can't
close my eyes without
remembering your
fists, without hearing
the sharp tenor of your
yelling voice. I can't
think of you without
shrinking into myself.
you were never
supposed to have
this power over me.
freeing myself from
you was supposed
to free me,
and ******* it
I am free, you are
no longer destroying
my life. but *******
you for haunting me,
******* you.
ghost girl Apr 2020
between your anger
and my grief
we'll scorch the planet,
flood it
all over again.
ghost girl Mar 17
i spent much of my
early twenties
convinced
my existence could be
pathologized,
explained neatly
by an icd-10 code,
convinced i was
maybe bipolar
maybe borderline
maybe something
anything
because a diagnosis meant
answers
a plan
relief...

the years since
softened my mind,
changed me,
healed me,
revealed the corrosive
nature of pain,
how i held onto it
for years and years
because it was
all i had left.

i put it down,
i said my goodbyes.
i don't google
diagnoses
anymore.
ghost girl Jul 2013
This is how a girl will go mad
Waiting for a world that will never come
Devouring empty smiles and false promises
Made up to be shiny and beautiful
Hungry for what she cannot have.

This is how a girl will lose her mind
Watching an entire world
Coil down the drain in tendrils
Laced with blood and hope
Praying for the cuts to hurt this time

This is how you will watch her
Wither away quietly
Morbidly curious, slightly disdained
You will be a step or two removed
Certain she’ll be better on her own
That she does not need you.

This is the guilt you will feel
When you find her at your feet
And you realize a single word  
A whispered promise, though it would go unkept
Could have saved that little girl
Gone mad.
ghost girl Mar 2018
I don't feel real anymore. nothing does. I saw myself deep in the throes of unbridled unconscious and it was terrifying. shapeless, worthless, needless. I can't stop seeing that. it's been hours and hours and I am haunted by that drug-induced vision of nothing. I have been pushed around and forcibly given and taken from for so long that I don't know where I end and everyone else begins. I am what they made me, and I allowed that to happen. I let people hurt me and change me and warp me into this terrifying mess. I feel like it scrubbed me clean of all emotion. I'm empty today, an unfeeling monster, and I can't get push myself out of it. it's made me realize that I don't actually know what feelings actually are. I don't feel them, I feel what I've been told feelings are supposed to feel like. I don't know how love feels. I don't know what happiness is. anger and fear I'm familiar with, but those aren't really emotions per se, just the mask deeper emotions wear and god forbid I ever have the ability to identify those. I am sick. I am lost. I hit that brick wall that holds everything back. the wall that separates me from unremembered trauma and the onslaught of emotion and the shell of a person that I've become. I don't know if I can break it, and I don't know if I want to. depression is already starting to slip back in, and I'm so afraid that if I push against that wall, I won't survive it. I won't come back from it. I'm so afraid of all the things I saw and what I am and I don't know how to fix it. or if I can. or if it'd even be worth it.

I am not worth it.
not a poem not a poem just an anonymous rambling because I can't stand the sound of my own head right now
ghost girl Nov 2016
how awful goodbyes are.
do not mistake this as easy -
do not mistake my relief
as happiness in the act.
breaking your heart was
the hardest thing I've ever
done, and I will forever
feel your grief in my bones.

I'm sorry I loved you until
I didn't; I wanted you to be
the permanence etched into
my very blood cells but
nothing ever happens
the way you want it to,
and the way things happened
with you took every last
ounce of me and destroyed it.

so in a way, please understand
that you crafted this undoing.
in breaking my heart over and
over again, you set the foundation
to break your own - and you may
not understand that now, but
I hope someday you look back

and understand the way you broke
the girl who loved you steadfastly,
unconditionally, unquestioningly.
remember that I didn't wake up
one day and decide to love you
no longer, understand you chipped
away at my love until it wasn't
anything anymore. understand
I wanted more than anything in the
world to never hurt you, but you
left me with no other choice.

remember it wasn't me
who wrecked the house we
built together - understand
that you set fire to our bed
long before I left it.
ghost girl Oct 2016
if  
this  
is
all   we   ever   get
I   want
*o u t .
ghost girl Mar 2021
there's a trail of my blood
that runs from one of this
town to the other, right
up the steps to my front
door.

this town has seen
all my ugliest moments
and yet I am still here,
sleeping in the same bed
cooking at the same stove,
living in the same house
I have already grieved
so many losses in.

this town is home and hell
and I want to escape just
as much as I never want
to leave and it depends
on the sky and it depends
on the day and it depends
if I see your faces, or my own,
in all the memories it carries.
ghost girl Oct 2018
I keep trying to fix myself
by destroying everything
around me and I'm still
surprised every time I
find myself alone in my own
wreckage.
ghost girl Apr 9
hello,
i hope your evening
is filled with
stubbed toes
burnt supper
spilled milk.

in the morning, i hope
you forget your office keys
your coffee until it's gone cold
your lunch
your password.

i hope this email
finds you well!
ghost girl Nov 2014
I used to know how to be alone.
Before you, I knew how to sit quietly
I knew how to handle the dark on my own
I knew how to be alone.
In the aftermath of falling in love with you,
The night holds an emptiness when you’re
Not here with me. My bed is no longer a
Safe place because there is a two foot
Void you’re supposed to occupy.
Even my skin doesn’t know how to be
Without you, so accustomed it became
To your lips and your fingertips
And the feel of you wrapped around me.
You ruined my solitude. With your voice
And your heart and your love,
You ruined my alone.
ghost girl Sep 2016
she lay down her bones,
she tells him,
"these are all I have,
they are all for you."

he inhales.
he exhales.
drops his cigarette on
the asphalt.

"I don't want them."
ghost girl Mar 2018
the abyss holds the
bared, screaming chasms
of my very soul - *******
the edges of unconscious
memory I can't bring
myself to touch. every
color on the spectrum,
colors I can't name,
the vibrating pulse
of very existence creeping
in through the soles of my
feet, the palms of my
hands and I still can't
find the meaning I crave.
I saw the bottom of my
soul and it was empty for
me, scraped bare by hungry
mouths and desperate
hands. I saw God and
he told me what I am
and I am not. I am a
shapeless vessel, an empty
canvas, energy designed
to serve the hearts of those
I love, those who mean to
love me. I looked into the
magic mirror, and I saw
nobody looking back
at me.
ghost girl Dec 2014
Tuesday mornings on the front porch,
Sipping dark coffee and watching the world  pass us by.
The sky will bleed a thousand different colors
But you will still be the sun.
ghost girl Mar 2015
float away on the low tide
in my little empty boat
because all the birds have flown away
and my feet have begun to chafe
against the land beneath them
because I've begun to sink into the sand
and the sea is the only body that could hold me
ghost girl Aug 2020
finally found your portrait
(dorian)
hidden behind your veneer
and your charm
and it is far uglier
than I could have
ever imagined

and all at once
letting you go was the easiest thing
I've ever done.
ghost girl Apr 2020
i'm trying to walk
on eggshells with feet
still bandaged from
walking on broken glass
and you wonder why
i step so delicately,
why i turn and run
every time they
start to sting
again.
ghost girl Feb 2019
soul deep,
by heart
by love
by soul
by mind.

you feel me,
and you
wait.
you push.
but you feel
me.

I'll hold
on while
you can't,
I'll wait
til you
can.
ghost girl Oct 2021
in the absence,
the vacancy,
i am alone
with me
and we are
learning how
to sit in silence
together, how to
make dinner for
just us, how to be whole
again.

i am feeling less like
a caricature of myself,
less colored outside the
lines and haphazard
and the more i cut
away at the things which
do not serve, the more
i am my own for the first
time in so long.

to be tethered to no one
but me, i am finally,
finally free.
ghost girl Oct 2017
we waited.
we waited.
we fought like
hell to find
our power,
to live our life
standing up straight.

they cut us down,
died on our knees.
they laughed
at our
black dahlia
smiles,
helped us
tie
our columbian
neck ties -
they wanted us
to look nice,
you know?
ghost girl Nov 2018
i hope
when you kiss her
all you taste is
me.
ghost girl Jun 2020
yours is the
unwelcome ghost
i cannot bring myself
to banish.
ghost girl May 2017
every so often,
we lose the fight.
the night sky disappears
behind thick cloud,
and we lose the light.
and the rest of the world
seeps in like thick smoke,
and we can't ignore
the raging fire out there
anymore.

you ask me a thousand times,
please take my hand,
and even though
you're within reach,
I let it go.
I won't mean to, but I
let go.
ghost girl Nov 2014
My mother tells me I'm not broken.
She tells me I'm whole and perfect
And that she loves me.
I stopped arguing a long time ago
Because there's no way to tell her
How the pieces of broken glass inside of me
Collide sometimes, like storm-stirred
Oceans and barges, how it sinks ships
And shreds lips. There's no way to tell her
How my thoughts slide against each other
The way a serrated knife slides so easily
Against the skin. I can't tell her how my
Hands shake when I think of all the ones
That left me so easily. I can't tell her how
The coldness settles in my bones when
I miss them, no matter how hard I try
to forget them. I can't tell her about the headaches,
The ones that radiate through my jaw
Because I clenched my teeth all day to
Hold in the screams of frustration.
The headache from all the screaming
I do in my head because I don't know
How to breathe, how to speak, how to
Describe all the ways I feel broken.
How I look in the mirror and I see
The outlines of a thousand piece puzzle
Drawn all over my body and the pieces
That are missing, the pieces that they took
When they left me without looking back.
The bite in my belly when they say
"I'll call you." Half because I know they won't,
Half because I desperately hope they will.
My mother doesn't see the puzzles,
The broken glass, the bleeding lips when
She looks at me - she's so desperate to believe
That all the time she spent trying to put me together,
To make sure I was a real girl, a perfect picture,
Was worth the effort. And I'm so sorry, mommy.
I'm sorry it wasn't.
ghost girl Aug 2018
burn this house to
the ground if it meant
keeping you out

sink the whole ****
ship if it meant
watching you drown

take this ground away
like an earthquake or
an atom bomb

just to spare the surface
of your existence that feels
something like slaughter.
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