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Farah Nov 2016
gracefully tracing your veins
like a dainty necklace swinging from collarbone
to the other
the sun comes up too early
& we’re too busy inhaling the chemicals
drunk off of each other;
empty wine glass pieces, broken on the floor
droplets of scarlet red, scattered all around
we’re losing control in our nicotine dreams
and we just get higher and higher
till we’re above the world
we sing along to grunge music just to drown
the silence and
we taste each other’s lips, wet with tears
I surrender to your grip, I stop fighting
I let my body slip through your fingers
like waterfalls
like tears
  Oct 2016 Farah
Tom Leveille
and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it
Farah May 2016
I hold you in my lungs like nicotine
Farah May 2016
I thought the world was big enough for me;
palms that hold the ocean together so
it doesn’t escape between locked fingers,
loveless wrists that drown in the abyss where
I occupy this space that isn’t mine.

I need to be less than I am to fit in between
bars,
so I can escape the prisons of this gruesome insanity
darling, stitch my bones together before
I collapse into scattered pieces
take away from the numbers and make them smaller
like my throbbing heart
and hide those starless veins where there’s no breath
and don’t forget to make a fortress out of my dying skin
for the birds no longer sing on delicate silk sheets
Farah Apr 2016
I look past my reflection in the mirror;
whale-sized thighs, and
arms too big for the oceans
rain pours down like sharp daggers
into my flesh, and I’m tired
teeth hurt, and I’m tired
heart pounding, and I’m tired
my mermaid waves leave my head like
an old porcelain doll, dying
and I’m tired
I teach my body how to stop needing,
in with the calories, and I’m tired
out with the calories, and I’m really tired
silent screams echo at the fake reflection
that stares blindly through the broken
mirrors
**** me up, I’m seeing stars tonight
bones aching, and I’m smiling
bullets to the head, and I’m smiling
painstakingly dancing through the night
till I’m void of nothing,
they say empty is beautiful, and I want
so dearly to feel beautiful
calories scattered on the floor, like the
those scattered thoughts of everything
I used to be
and everything I am now
scatterbrain, tell me how you feel
when your insides are void of
self-love
you eat hatred for breakfast
and spit self-pity into your toilet
tell me again, silly girl,
do you feel beautiful now?
Farah Apr 2016
I woke up to her,
drenched in wine
and mascara tears
I woke up,
wore my dress
and
stared out of her window
as if it were mine,
as if I had the right to
undress her fears
and throw them
on railway tracks.
I woke up and I
couldn’t look at her
without cringing
the bruises,
the tender skin,
the way she screamed
through the night
and held my body
for safety
I woke up and I
felt her drift away
from everything
we have known
I woke up and
I shouldn’t have
woken up.
Farah Apr 2016
I was born with wounds in my head
they tell me I’ll be better and they give me pills
but oh, nothing takes you out of
me for you are stitched into my soul
like disease.
Sometimes I want to hide in my
mother’s womb and build
a fortress of all the tears we’ve cried
you and I
so there's a bed
and there’s our bodies intertwined
like homes that swallow the skies
and dance under the pouring rain
and during hurricanes
there’s a body and there’s another
there’s a pill and there’s the other
and there’s my dry mouth begging for
a drizzle, from your soul, boy.

**** medications.
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