Monique Saunders: Poems

1.2k · Mar 2011

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

I will carve into my flesh,
Whittle it away down to bone.
It's not about beauty,
Or wanting it to be gone.
I just want to control
The only thing that is, truly,
My own.

1.0k · Mar 2011

Sentence Fragment - consider revising

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

Sentence Fragment - consider revising

Sit. Breathe. Think.
Stare. Fidget. Blink.
Deep. Empty. Hollow.
Pill. Glass. Swallow.
Smile. Cry. Cut.
Eat. Gag. Glut.

946 · Mar 2011

real time

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

real time

yell at me baby
scream and shout obscenities
yell at me baby
i want you to have an affect
yell at me baby
let me know i'm real
yell at me baby
i don't need your respect

913 · Mar 2011

A Hitch

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

A Hitch

Transfixed; I sit staring at
Deep blue; drowning
In the eyes of you.

A hitch - suddenly I need to learn
How to breathe.
Forgetting; myself, and all that was.

Before you - I was never alive.

750 · Dec 2011

Self Interest

Monique Saunders Dec 2011

Self Interest

Watching the world be
Destroyed, I am still my own
Biggest disaster.

649 · Mar 2011

Love

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

Love

I scratched your name into my desk;
A crude effigy to my love,
And adoration of your entire being.

616 · Mar 2011

Wracked

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

Wracked

With your slight of airs and graces,
You have betrayed my untidy heart,
Twisted out a retching sob,
And left a metallic taste in my mouth.

Everything tastes like Russian roulette.

598 · Mar 2011

A Murder

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

A ******

A dusk of fading light.
A flutter and flurry of wings.
A chorus of crows calling.
A hundred black shiny things.

Arranged in a circle.
Arranged in a ring.
Arranged around a solitary crow.
Arranged to hear him sing.

A dusk of fading light.
A flutter and flurry of wings.
A chorus of crows calling.
A hundred black shiny things.

No longer in a circle.
No longer in a ring.
No longer around a solitary crow.
No longer will he sing.

586 · Mar 2011

Hurts

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

Hurts

I don't mar my flesh as a cry for help,
I'm really quite strong enough on my own.
I don't pick at scabs for attention,
Sometimes, I just want to see if I can reach bone.

This hasn't been written to make you worry;
I really don't want to die.
I just want to help you understand,
and tell you my reasons why.

I'm not trying to make you upset,
And I don't exactly say this with pride.
What I find is I need to express
The ugliness I have inside.

540 · Mar 2011

Cheap

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

Cheap

You sit drinking your cheap liquor,
and flat soda.
You wax your philosophical views
to anyone who listens.
"The problem," You say,
"is that no one cares."
Your slurring thoughts are truly
a voice of a generation.

517 · Mar 2011

A Teensy Bit

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

A Teensy Bit

The words we swap;
Small whispers.
The images we collect;
Blissful memories.
The scenarios we create;
Long embraces.

Are all so beautiful;
The sight of your face.
Are all so amazing;
The smell of your hair.
Are all so magical;
Your hand on my thigh.

They leave me wanting;
Just a teensy bit.

512 · Mar 2011

Hurt Me

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

Hurt Me

Hurt me, baby;
Cut me with your words;
Neglect me with your smile.
Beat me, baby;
Bruise me with your care;
Ignore me with your eyes.
Oh, pain me, baby;
**** me with your touch;
Farewell me with your kiss.

476 · Mar 2011

Love Letter

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

Love Letter

I love you - love you - love you.
That is what the words said.
                    Always; I love you.
                    A mantra, a prayer.
Love you. You. Only and always you.
Pleasing, pleasant words. Poison.
Poisonous - designed to numb;
Used to ensnare, entrap,
Hold you fast - tight.
                   Don't struggle. I love you.
                   Cleave unto me, for I love you.
You'll never leave me.
                   You'll never leave me.
                   You'll never-
                                      Won't you?

I was reading a lecture Nick Cave gave on Love Songs, he mentions he has this habit of writing love letters, and how really they're a device to try and tie the object of the letters to one's person.

He mentions how under the surface of it all relationships - especially those that are romantic - are always abusive in some way.

We inflict little hurts on those we love, with our words and our actions, or inactions in the hopes that we'll tie them to ourselves - I know I've done this, and I know I still do it in my own ways.

Humans are just horribly insecure beings, but they are insightful to watch.

370 · Mar 2011

You.

Monique Saunders Mar 2011

You.

You.
      You.
            You.

(What don't you ******* understand?)

It's all about you.
                            It's ******* always about you.

— The End —