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 Sep 2018 Mims
b e mccomb
toxic
 Sep 2018 Mims
b e mccomb
it hurts
a sharp jabbing
pain in my
lower side
just above my
stomach

i only feel it
when i start
to think
too hard

it often aches
throughout the day
snakes downward and wraps
itself around my legs
squeezes my muscles
so tight i can’t sleep

the pain
screams
that i am not
good enough
that i never
have been and
never will be
good enough

there are purple
bags under my eyes
i keep them full
at all times

full of
what?

full of
words

words like
“no”
“can’t”
“want”
“practical”
“best”
“should”
“plan”

heav­y
words
that pull my
head down

so that i focus
on the floor
my own feet
and the thick
vine winding
up from the
ground trying
to choke me out

lately every
step has been hard
trying to pull
the roots up
so i can begin
to move forward

it’s slow
and the pain
and the words
make it slower

and i am tired
so tired
all i want is to
stop moving
just for a
bit to rest

afraid of
what i know
about myself
and how if i
pause and
slow down

my body will
come to a
complete halt
and more of those
dead weight words
might tumble out

words like
“wrong”
“want”
“work”
“will”
“can”
“happy”
“no”

until i am buried
under an avalanche
of double negatives
and wishful thinking

and still the pain
keeps on throbbing
as i keep swallowing
down my toxic words
copyright 8/27/18 by b. e. mccomb
 Sep 2018 Mims
Isabelle
believe me when i say
that these scars
are not a reminder of you
believe me, these scars
are a reminder
of how deep my love can be
these scars are not about you
 Sep 2018 Mims
alexa
i’m used to rainy days.
and it’s okay,
because i’ve always loved the rain,
loved the smell of it
and feel of it
and taste of it, as an earthy drop
lands on my lips.
i know that there are
unexplained rainy days,
where nobody could predict it
but the storm hit so
hard & heavy
that it couldn’t help but drown the one,
unlucky girl standing under the rain cloud.
but i also know that
these days are supposed to be
few & far between, at least
where i’m from.
but lately,
(does the last two years still count as “lately?”)
the rain clouds keep showing up,
pounding me again & again
before i get the chance to breathe
like an unrelenting ocean.
i honestly can’t remember
what the sun feels like,
and that scares me
because the girl once filled with it
is now soaked,
waterlogged—
rain streaming out of every pore.
too much of anything can
make you hate it—
i can now confidently say that
i hate the rain.
-a.c.b
 Aug 2018 Mims
b e mccomb
when i look at my body
i have only ever seen
a topographical map of every
failure and self-loathing thought
that slowly destroyed it
neglected and broke it

but under your hands i
forget about all that and feel
flowers blooming from the cracks that
desolation left as your fingers and
kisses remind me that even crooked
trees still grow upwards and that

the most majestic of mountains
remain standing tall through time
uneffected by the scars and faults
that history left on stone
copyright 8/4/18 b. e. mccomb
 Aug 2018 Mims
b e mccomb
i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place
copyright 8/6/18 b. e. mccomb
 Aug 2018 Mims
Tori
Cleopatra
 Aug 2018 Mims
Tori
"I am enough"
She said to the mirror,
Dull eyes gazing back
Her reflection recreating regal
expressions
That coming so naturally before, now were cracked

"I am beautiful"
She said, with silver tears
Brimming in her eyes
In the daytime she was Clepatra
Aching for affirmation, filled with ***** lies

Standing in her own presence
No lines so sweetly versed
No role to be rehearsed
Fists clenched, lips tightly pursed
Oh beautiful tragedy! you lost your identity...
the ache is stayed with the plunge of a blade
breaching  the chasm which once held your heart
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