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fm Jul 2019
“i am a god!”
he yelled
with shaking fists
and a beat-red face.
his knees scabbed
and his blood flowing freely
onto the cemented ground.

she stared down at him,
eyebrow quirked
and a hint of a smile.
sword pointed
and ready for battle.
“you may be a god,
but i am hades.
and i bow to no one.”
fm Jul 2019
i didn’t want to write this.

not when you’re no longer laying next to me.
the warmth from your skin no longer seeping into mine.

i didn’t want to write this.
not without your hand intertwined with mine.
fingers wrapped so delicately around each other.

i didn’t want to write this.
not because it doesn’t hurt anymore.
i’m reminded of you every single day.

i really didn’t want to write this.
but i did.

because it still hurts that i wasn’t good enough for you.
it kills me that it seemed easy for you to leave so suddenly.
it pains me that you probably never looked back once.

but that pain is still there.
i promise you that.

so i guess i wrote this to remind you.
(or remind myself of you)
i wrote this to remind you that even 3 months, numerous attempts to say your name without the bitter aftertaste, and several poems later, it’s still hard to pretend that i was never close with you.

laying next to you.
my body warmth seeping into yours.  
fingers wrapped delicately.

you feel that?
it’s the pain,
still there.
fm Jun 2019
she holds you like it’s the first and the last time.
her arms are wrapped around you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go for even a second.
you feel her heartbeat thump, your head pressed against her chest as her pulse races.
a sigh escapes as you push closer, imbedding your body into hers like it’s the first and the last time.
“i’ll never let you go,” you say.
she breathes deeply, as if she knew you were going to say that.
she cups your face and her fingers glide along your jaw.
her hands are shaking as the tips of her fingers dance across your cheek, like it’s the first and the last time.
she looks so solemn, her eyes filled with a gentle sadness.
but still, her hands caress your face and she whispers quietly.
so quietly.
like it’s the first and the last time.
“you already have.”
fm Jun 2019
what was it like when you left me behind?
with a bottle of jack clasped in your greedy palm,
did you ever look over your shoulder?
did you ever turn back?

independency never looked more like a cage
when you realize it came with
losing a childhood to a parent
dependent on *****
and lost in her liquor.

maturity is a sculpture that people
chip and mold to fit their own reality
when they forget that the
broken pieces surrounding the perfect sculpture
are really what maturity is made of.

when you left me behind
i reveled in my independency
and clutched my broken pieces in my hands,
glued them back together
and called it armor.

but i still wonder from time to time,
if you ever looked down to see your own
broken jack bottle
glass pieces by your feet,
because you finally remembered

that you left your daughter behind.
fm May 2019
as the rain pelted my face i felt an odd sensation of satisfaction.

the water had cleansed my body like it was the holy water used at morning mass.

the catholics’ silence could be heard as i bathed in God’s tears.

the deafening echo of a wordless cathedral spinning into chaos.

as peace consumes me and
my body is laid to rest

i realize why God had flooded the earth the first time.
fm May 2019
you have to feel it at the bottom of your chest
pushing and pulling and molding itself into a ball of gnashing teeth and chipped fingernails.
it sits there and meshes itself together to create
a web of endless nothingness that starts and ends in the same ****** place

like a never ending cycle of decay

it resides at the bottom of my chest and waits and waits and waits

until i feel like i’m good.
until i feel like i’m okay.

and then i remember that you have to remember the barren graveyard in your chest where flowerless headstones mark the heart that use to live and breathe and flourish its own garden.
i’ll claw at this desolate orchard and i’ll scream in anguish because i wasn’t always this hollow.

i wasn’t always this ****** hollow.

but when you come into my life and you leave flowers on a perfect grave and then walk away leaving them to wither away into ash

you can’t expect me to not engrave your name on the slab of stone i lay under.
even after all this time, the pain is still there
fm May 2019
i stood outside in the rain
and felt the water collide with my face wondering if i was the only one
who had felt like this or if it was
just the cold from my wet clothes
slowly creeping in

was the feeling my empty chest
which carried the echoed thumps
of my heart or was it just the chilling
of my bones from landing in one
too many puddles

i read poetry until the dawn broke the sky
and like the sun waking up
i kissed the darkness goodbye
and welcomed the blue bird’s song
greeting the warm rays of a new day

but like the day it was only temporary
and i felt the cool pull from the moon’s glow
tugging me back into my empty bed
writing poetry until the light from the morning
shown brighter than my phone screen

sadness only settles into my skin
after i am done tearing at it with guilty teeth
remembering what it felt like to sink into
that special spot at the
junction point of your shoulders

i spend countless hours biting my nails
to short stubs because i don’t want
to remember them tracing
the freckles on your back as if i
were painting constellations on your flesh

i look at photos in my phone
only deleting them when the substance in
my lungs is strong enough to subdue
the aching in my chest as i remember
the happiness and the love that we held

i make hot tea once it hits 4
with the salted tears that fall down
my cheeks because i can’t get up
without falling to my knees in a silent
prayer that you’ll come back to me

and when the sun comes back up
and awakes the restless city
i welcome it with open arms in hopes
that today will actually be a new day
and that it’ll end when it leaves
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