Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Molly Daniels Dec 2015
there is something in the daily fluorescence of grocery stores that gets to me like falling apart on bathroom floors and getting screamed at by angry fathers just does not
because they have not witnessed demises like mine but they have witnessed endings of careers
lost children
the breaking of more glasses than i have hearts
and there is something comforting in reveling in the very essence of a place that has witnessed both destruction
and change in a way that results in grocery store labyrinths
being all too similar to the twisting and turning of my head.
Molly Daniels Dec 2015
take a shot
every time wine isn't strong enough
to drown out the memories of us
i finish an entire
bottle of *****
thinking about the way the door
slammed
shut after you left
and i still haven't forgotten
the lock clicking behind you
Molly Daniels Dec 2015
you have the opportunity to be everything you always needed for your daughter someday and if that isn't full circle i don't know what is
Molly Daniels Nov 2015
it doesn't really hit you how far you've fallen
until you are gasping on your knees
your throat raw
after shoving your entire fist down your throat
until your best friends have to physically hold you down
so you won't run the bathroom and force food
from your stomach
until you ask them, tears streaking down your face
if they will hold your hair back
until you cannot even stomach the sight of food
until being asked to eat sends shivers of anxiety
through your body
until everyone keeps telling you that you have to eat
that you aren't trying
but you can't physically make them understand
how impossible it is to eat
when your body has become your worst enemy
the cause of every aspect of enmity.
Molly Daniels Nov 2015
when i was five, i saw a fire bathed in countless shades of red and
the inferno terrified me.
elevens years later, the bathtub turns crimson red and i'm not scared at all, i'm throwing my hands in the air,
screaming, "look, ma. no hands, ma. no ******* turning back now."

skipping along the sidewalk at six years old avoiding the cracks
so as not to crack my mother's back,
ten years later and the only cracks i'm worried about
are snaking their way up necks of liquor bottles
and through my facade and i don't know
how much longer i can keep lying,
i'm not doing any ******* better.

measuring my growth at age seven with ticks of pen on the wall
as my father ruffles my hair and tells me i'm growing up.
nine years later the only measurements i'm paying attention to
are how many liters of blood is too many to come back from
(around 3)
and how many centimeters deep i have to cut, how many ticks i need to make in order to make sure i finally hit six feet.

waking up early Christmas morning at eight years old
but i'm not looking for presents under the tree anymore,
i'm just staring at glinting knives and imagining sticking
my head in the fireplace just like Santa.
waking up eight years later
and telling Santa to go **** himself because the only thing on my list
was to not wake up at all.

coming home with skinned knees and bruised elbows at age nine,
but seven years later
i stopped coming home at all because my mother
kept remarking on the bruises and broken bones i had
from life kicking me down
and not giving me enough time to get up between blows.

attending my grandmother's funeral at age ten, six years later and my mother is drinking in an attempt to forget mine was the previous day.
Molly Daniels Nov 2015
ever since i was a little girl my mother would drag me to neighbor's houses
and aunt's apartments.
where sown into pillows and hung on walls were the words,
"home is where the heart is."
i've never felt as home anywhere so much as
my bed and my bed has never felt so much like a coffin
as it has the past few years.
does that say something about me?
i've never felt at home
inside my head and my head
has never dragged me down like lead
so much as it has the past few years.
what does that ******* say about me?
there are a thousand ways to die;
a knife to the heart,
a house burning down.
a head burning itself
to the ******* ground.
every splinter in my heart feels like a knife
slamming its way through my sanity
and the flames are licking at the tips
of my fingers
like a lover's tongue.
Next page