Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Sep 2017 Emma
Nicole
Did I ever tell you
Why I stopped drinking?
Why I am so terrified
To take a sip alone?
How that one time after class
My heart was broken
And I skipped the glass
And drank straight from the bottle?
How I crumbled into a ball
Under my favorite blanket
My mind screaming through the halls
Fighting off the demons trying to drown me?
Of course I always want to die
That's something I've learned to live with
But never before in my life
Had I known that I could give in.
Yet there I lay crying
Wasted with a racing mind
Begging to give in to dying
But instead I went to sleep.
So when my depression intensifies
And I run to my substances
I am so terrified
So alcohol is the last option.
Because it could be my last decision.
 Sep 2017 Emma
Anwesha
A rain song
 Sep 2017 Emma
Anwesha
Drench me
                                    in your silken showers

                                              Drape me
                                   with your dewy softness

                                Drops of divinity will seep in
                                            rinsing away
                                        my poignant past.

                                 My sultry summer noons
                                              yearn you
                                     My nostalgic nights
                                               long you;
                               wondering, will you come as
                                      the drizzle of delight
                                                      or
­                               the downpour of destruction?
monsson musings of a mademoiselle
 Sep 2017 Emma
Hello World
You
 Sep 2017 Emma
Hello World
You
At first I thought you were just a friend
Then we touched
A friendly way--
This happened every day
Then one day you held on--
Would you hold on if I was yours?
And you were mine?
I see you in the halls,
and sometimes you say hi,
or sometimes don't notice me.
Your three years my senior,
and we see each other almost every day.
Inside and outside of school,
if only we could have time alone, to talk, to pretend I am home,
in your arms.
So I'll keep holding on,
to your hand,
until I know for sure.
This is the ends
 Sep 2017 Emma
Thomas James Hogan
Every single strain of thought
Inner/outer/oddly wrought
Ever bending, winding weaving
Meant for meaning, left unleaving
Linger longer lifting all
Till all still lowly wonder fall
This gift of words and dreams too often
Flow from endings start to soften
And every bundled mass on pages
Trickles out from sloth to sages
And when the words won’t wilt or waken
We find them there both left and taken…

And still we write them.
For Clifford H. Banks
 Sep 2017 Emma
certifiednutcase
The number on the scale
Becomes very real.
When food becomes kilojoules
And
Cravings become nil.

The number on the scale
Shouldn't be like a rusty nail.
Causing a wound
that never seems to heal,
that spreads till you're ill.

The number on the scale
is now fear.
For somehow worth is
Equals to
The number on the scale.

The number on the scale
Haunts till
The number on the scale
Decreases to
The (smaller) Number on the scale.
 Sep 2017 Emma
certifiednutcase
Here’s a letter to my fallen sister:
I’m
Sorry.
I did not show you the ropes
And lead you up the mountains.
Instead i tugged you down the valleys
Low
And left you
Alone.
You tried,
Climbing and climbing
But ended up
Falling
For the last time.
R.I.P
Next page