Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Moriah Jean Mar 2011
My hands are tied behind my back, and
I've swallowed more keys than I can count.
The devil himself couldn't pick these locks and,
God's still on a sabbatical.
I slept for a thousand years but,
Still woke up just in time to see you leaving.
You kissed me awake with no intention of saving me,
Even though you knew my fears were dragons holding me back.
They don't breathe fire; they just burn me up.
I tried to scream, but opened my mouth to
realize my vocal chords were out of tune.
The sound came out as scratches and
I choked on the flecks of rust.
You walked away while whispering, "You never moved me,"
But the sound waves couldn't reach my ears in time;
I dove from the lone window in my tower,
And as I fell, I prayed that I could fly.
© March 9th, 2011 Moriah Jean


My muse again.
I don't know where this is coming from.
Moriah Jean Mar 2011
I'd like to close my eyes and
breathe you in and
die.

I'm choking on your heartbeat, but
who needs to swallow?
Your muscles wrap around me,
constricting my every move.
I'm caged in by beautiful happenings and
I'm in love with your tense-and-release.
My skin sticks to your lips as
My fingers get tangled in your hair.
Your body is a garden I am lost in;
Your vines tie me down and
I am ravaged. The air is
thick and salty as the ocean;
We could drown together
(and i would welcome it).
We saw eternity but forgot to
take any pictures, then we
traveled back in time to make sure
life couldn't go on without us.
Our battle scars will tell the
story better than we could.
The moment was so heavy
it almost crushed me,
(and i think i wouldn't have minded).
No one lives forever and
I'd like to die while I'm living.
We squeezed a lifetime into
one euphoric moment; I
wouldn't dare let ***** greed
ask for more.

I'd like to close my eyes and
breathe you in and

*die.
© March 9th, 2011 Moriah Jean

When I started writing this, it was about love.
About half way through, it somehow became about ***.
I suppose at times, they are one and the same.
Either way, after making beautiful, corny, hot and heavy love would be a perfect time to die.
You know, eventually.

I didn't have anyone specific in mind when I wrote this. However, I've only ever truly "made love" to one person.
So this is for my muse - I could have died every night in his arms.
Moriah Jean Mar 2011
He suffocates me as you
watch; callous and indifferent, he will
chew me up and spit me out.
I breathe tar into my lungs and call it
love; my spine turns into paste,
oozing through my pores and into his
mattress. And even if you could
scoop me up, I'd still be * pliable* -
putty in your hands.
You believe in saving, like I believe in
being saved, but I'm still just
treading water while you
swim. And my dawn hasn't scared away
my darkness. He's holding me under while I
thrash; My bones may turn into
pearls, but I wont develop
gills in time to breathe, and
there's a good chance I've been
dead for years already anyways. Let me
slip through your fingers like
sand or time, God knows I've never
been worth saving. Yesterday I was
beautiful, today I'm shooting stars, but
tomorrow I'll just be the
blood you can't seem to
wash from under your fingernails. I'm
unforgettable for no other reason than
you can't rinse my taste from your
mouth; I like to leave
scars - So save your energy for yourself and
let him take me; the truth is,
We deserve each other.
© March 7th, 2011 Moriah Jean

"He" is my seven year disaster, and
"You" is Bryant.

If I know, I know, I know it wouldn't work, why can't I get him out of my head?
Moriah Jean Feb 2011
There are days I wake up and realize I'm dead;
I'm rotting from the inside as my
Muscles and my sinew and my heart
All go the way of my mind --
Lost-lost-lost.
I move at the pace of breathing,
But even that isn't fast enough to
Wade through all the ******* in time to come up for air,
Or slow enough to stop.
My feet weren't made for running
Like my heart wasn't made for loving,
And I only know how to dance in place anyway.
Still, I cling to my own skin and my fire,
My apathy, zeal, destruction,
My chaos and contradiction,
And all the ****** up things that make us human.
I'd take as much as I give, but no one's offering, so I'll
take-take-take
Until there's no one left to use.
My sweet smile will cover the abuse,
And you'll still give me your heart, or your bed.
I'm not convinced anyone knows the difference anymore.
But I'm holding out for the day I wake up to the sun,
Throw open my windows and breathe.
The day I transcend the dirt to feel alive
With wild abandon and a wicked passion for
more-more-more.
Breathe in the sky and inject stars into my veins,
Never stopping and never satisfied
Because this is what it's like to be alive.
I'm not settling and I wont settle down,
We're all dying everyday,
But my clock is still ticking away.
My bones will become dust, yet,
And someone will cry over my shattered life.
But we're all just waste w.a.s.t.i.n.g. away,
And if you're lucky,
Someone will smile when it's over and
promise-promise-promise
It was your life that made them live.
And in the end, I couldn't ask for more.
© February 27th, 2011 Moriah Jean

Inspired by the poetry of a ****** addict, 70's rock and the movie Chaos Theory.
Moriah Jean Feb 2011
I'd like to lay in the grass like I used to,
Back when innocence lit my eyes from the inside
And shone through my being like a thousand stars in my skin.

My stars got lost inside my veins somewhere along the way,
When I invited charm to sit with me, and
Traded in grass for soft matresses
And innocence for sin.

My weatherworn skin tore, and everytime
My stars leaked through the cracks leaving scars like comet's tails.
They only shine for a short time,
Until they're just a story that you hope someone will want to hear someday.
But my bones are poking through in too many places,
For anyone to believe I'm anything more than fragile.
And everyone's afraid to get too close.

I'll wrap myself in lace and paint my eyes white.
The dirt under my nails will fall away.
But I can't hide the hollowness in my chest,
Because nobody notices that thump-thump-thump
Until it's gone.
© February 21, 2011 Moriah Jean

Someone told me to write about innocence, so of course, I wrote about the lack of.
Moriah Jean Feb 2011
I like to pretend
That you still listen
To each word I choose
With careful precision,

Harboring them in your heart,
For a less complicated tomorrow.
© February 21st, 2011 Moriah Jean

For my muse.
I miss you tonight.
Moriah Jean Feb 2011
The downfall of my motivation
Is my incesant indecision
And my lack of inspiration
Tinged by bitter criticism.

I try
and fail to fly.
© February 17th, 2011 Moriah Jean

I used to feel like I was running in place.
Now, I feel like I'm not even running.

Stuck...
For a girl whose greatest fear is complacency, stuck is a terrifying place to be.
Next page