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phoebe Nov 5
it feels like a cruelly sick sense of humor, a twisted joke and i’m the punchline. how does one explain the irony, the contradiction of running from you yet chasing after you all at once? i’m chasing down your memory and the what ifs like malt liquor, it burns my throat and i mistake it for your hands only for the taste to settle in and i push ******* down my throat because i need to purge you out but i should have known its not like that, you arent food, but i’ll try anyways because your residue is haunting me but i can’t help but keep visiting your grave.
Nov 5 · 108
1105
phoebe Nov 5
don’t say you love me, not when i have the flesh pieces of my own heart stuck between my teeth after you shoved it back into me. when will i learn that i cannot force someone to let me love them? when will i learn that just because i feel the chest-caving need to save someone, doesn’t mean i should?
phoebe Nov 5
too much history.

i remember you claimed you wouldn’t be able to come back, to show your face due to the fact that everything reeked of us. i was a permanent tattoo on your frontal lobe — the itch you cannot stop scratching, and the ghost you keep trying to put to bed so you don’t have to admit you have blood on your hands that doesn’t belong to you.

you claimed everything was too much, too spine shattering. my backbone had always been a phantom, how can you shatter me when there is nothing left to shatter? some questions don’t make sense, you never made sense, and i question now if you ever even did. i can go on about how you’d dilute my blood with saltwater while i got intoxicated by your fermented words but i’d rather devour my own heart again before my thoughts even graze you again.

you claim there’s too much history
why are you trying to repeat it?
Aug 8 · 53
0804
phoebe Aug 8
misery is a chronic pain residing my skull, afraid of the monster pounding in the cavity of my chest. it feels like the sky crashing down on my frail body because atlas refused to hold it anymore. misery is all i am, i want to tell you but you're not picking up the phone.
phoebe Nov 2023
maybe it was foolish of me,
maybe i’m just too naive. but the way you held onto me both in a way you were scared i’d dismantle on you but enough to bruise, you were so gentle yet i still found your claw marks painting my skin that i worked so hard to heal before you.

i spent my nights questioning my own reality, wondering if you were the monster in my closet or the ghost under my bed. neither were safe, nor were they supposed to be something to romanticize but i preferred you being a ghost because at least then i wouldnt have to feel your touch.

and i used to think that was wrong of me. i was ****** up. because why on earth would i not want to embrace and melt into my lover’s touch? his arms that he vowed to have protect me?

vows. all that you constantly went back on and i sit here now wondering if you ever meant any of them. if you ever meant anything.

because i was naive,
i was foolish.

i had carved a place in my heart incase you wanted to come back but i should have known better.

a love like yours is only meant to destroy.
Nov 2023 · 736
0310
phoebe Nov 2023
and i’m sorry but i cannot get over what happened this time. i cannot get over the blood shed and the tears that echoed off every wall in the room, my cries for you to stay while you kept shoving me out. i cannot get over the ache in my chest when you went back on everything we swore, because darling, real love does not go away like that and i question now if you even know what love is.
the date that will ache right now but i hope to have hurt less soon.
phoebe Nov 2023
they say misery loves company and you made your stay longer than needed, overstaying your own welcome. and i’m not sure if you noticed, maybe you did… but when the time came to pack up your things you forgot to take your misery with you.
Nov 2023 · 80
1124
phoebe Nov 2023
you told me your biggest fear was ending up like your dad. that all your hardest work will only lead you to stare into the mirror and watch as it cracked from your knuckles because all you see staring back at you is him.

you said he caused pain,
he caused destruction.
every moment was a ticking time bomb and i can’t help but cower, i can’t help but want to hold a knife to my chest — even when i panic on which side the blade should be pointed. where it should be buried.

my hands shake and match the tempo of your anxiety, you tell me your fears and i drink them up like liquor that makes me want to purge it back out.

because when the time comes
and you have me by the heart,
i cower. you have me feeling as if i’m smaller than you and i can see you like it. a good person does not harm the ones they love, you bruised me way too many times yet broke your own fingers to make sure none pointed at you. you’re always upset, and i’m always sorry.

and maybe thats something you need to hear. because baby, you’re just like him.
Nov 2023 · 380
evermore. (full vers)
phoebe Nov 2023
you knock on my door in a way a ghost haunts their crime scene. there’s nothing in your hands but sorrow, yet i race to you anyways. i take your cold trembling limbs and attempt to make them warmer (even when i know the ice is from within.)

you tell me you try to find me in every soul you meet, every daylight your shadow tries to drown in. but darling, i know this time will end up like the last.

you come, and then you go.
i give, and then you take.
i think you will change and you give me the false security that’s enough for me to fall back into the arms i desperately tried to rip off me. i run back to what i was running from.

but baby, please mark my words when i say you will never touch me again and you will continue to fill that void i left because thats only fair after what you gifted me.

i clenched my fist and this goodbye for so long, i choked it down with my tears and held you to sleep while you hiccuped apologies that you’ll be better. but my darling evermore, i cannot be the person you hurt just because you’re hurting. i cannot be that person anymore.

right now you are dissecting a love that may never pass your twisted version of an examination, and that’s okay.

because the next time you come back to my door, i will not be there to open it. next time you come back, i’ll be gone.
the full work from my last post
Nov 2023 · 667
evermore.
phoebe Nov 2023
i clenched my fist and this goodbye for so long, i choked it down with my tears and held you to sleep while you hiccuped apologies that you’ll be better. but my darling evermore, i cannot be the person you hurt just because you’re hurting. i cannot be that person anymore.
a longer work but this part really was my most favorite so im sharing it alone
phoebe Apr 2023
this love of ours had always been a lie. a fabricated story that had gone too far and twisted our hearts in more ways than we were ready for — more than what we could ever afford. with fleshy gums you ask me why does this hurt so bad and i tell you it’s only to make it fair — passing out in midnight hues, i tell you i love you despite knowing the ache in my chest with each syllable i bleed only intensifies and i crave nothing more than to be swept in between the cracks of your winter undertones and to be left in your ruins. you tell me you love me despite the crushing of your windpipe making the echoing of sobs erupt bitterly in your chest cavity, the flames that rise in your belly make you want to itch at it yet you yearn to be set ablaze.


because i asked you with fleshy gums of my own, why does this hurt so bad and you look me in the eyes and tell me its only to make it fair.
Apr 2023 · 589
april-3rd
phoebe Apr 2023
you’re not allowed to miss me.
not when you had me in between the lines of your palms so deep i could not find where you stopped and i began — to the point i merged within your being — you don’t get to miss the spine shudder i gave you now that you are left hollow and seeking solace elsewhere — craving the one thing you failed to give but loved to take

you cried wolf so much — ripped out far too many hearts to feast on that you forgot to guard your own, the security system only being a thin layer of your pride

you are not allowed to miss me
because once i finish drinking your blood, there will be nothing left of you to dissolve in my shadow.
phoebe Apr 2023
there’s something wrong with me. there has to be — because how else would i have been able to look into your eyes, touch your soul, and taste the warmth it lacked? how could i stomach you so easily yet still want to purge you up like bad liquor? you never were quite right, but that’s okay. because somehow, that’s just what i liked.
getting into a healthy relationship, you start to see how bad the past was. i wrote this (one of many) after processing a relationship i had before my current, realizing how toxic it was, how in denial i was for the longest.
Apr 2023 · 276
romanticize me
phoebe Apr 2023
i beg of you — romanticize me.

when my bones get heavy, and my eye-bags darken — romanticize the way i still slide my hands into yours and allow myself to melt in your embrace, no matter how much it aches to breathe. no matter how much more i crave from you but cannot do. the pain turns into pleasure and this pleasure is pain.

romanticize the lack of words i attempt to create, to express in my own fashion when all i can do is show through repeated phrases that make me more machine than human.

that is all i am — all i can be
but please romanticize me.
Mar 2023 · 606
mar-23
phoebe Mar 2023
i’ll never be sober from you.

intoxicated by your fermented words, i know i’ll always drink up your breath as if it is an antidote waiting to be crushed into my lungs.
Dec 2022 · 117
folklore avenue
phoebe Dec 2022
sometimes i wonder if my trauma is still after me. i sit in my bed and try not to count each chipped paint mark on my wall by two’s and how many knots in my stomach that tightened in the last hour, i wonder if my trauma is still alive even after all of those years ago

i fall like the autumn leaves, the same ones that crunched under my shoes when i was thirteen, what do you do when the music finally stops?

you could start it over and replay the same record or you could put in a new one, they say old habits die hard but mine keep showing up at my doorstep like old family coming home for the holidays, except they overstay more of their welcome and never like to be put to bed.

maybe the punch line is that i don’t really know when to stop either, that i don’t like the feeling of my heart not being in my own mouth. every time i get an option to put in a new record, i put the old one back in, even if it’s damaged and has too many faults.

i wonder if my trauma likes to be held, because when i was fourteen, i refused to be touched at all.

and i can’t help but wonder if my trauma ages along with me, because sometimes i still see the same little kid with guns for hands staring right back at me wondering who the hell i am.

i like to think that soon i’ll grow tired of that record and put in a new one, let it play out and have myself enjoy new music for the first time again, and then when it dies, i can give it a proper burial and move on to a bigger label

and maybe i’m capable of doing so right now,

but my trauma likes to sit at the edge of my bed & play that same **** record as a theme song of my wake.
phoebe Dec 2022
“will you just hold me?… please?”

you hiccuped due to the amount of heaviness you poured out that night, sniffling and begging for me to open my arms to invite you in for a sense of comfort i knew you craved but were always too prideful to ask for. here you were wanting to be cradled like a child, and i answered the call. my arms felt like they were only pushing your broken parts together again for just a moment as you dismantled under my touch — falling limp and cold, face buried with soft whimpers, you were a broken child in a grown man’s body.

you clutched my shirt tightly, knuckled into your fist until they had turned white — you begged for me not to leave you like your dad did. if your own father saw you as unworthy and left, that meant anyone could, right?

you lifted your head to grab my face between your cold shaky palms and pressed your salty tear stained lips onto mine with a delicacy i haven’t felt from you since—i hold onto this memory too much than i probably should.

i hold onto it because i know this was the real you. the real person behind the facade you carried with you for years since LA.

i knew you that night
until the next day i didn’t.
phoebe Dec 2022
and i had been feeling more hopeless than i had ever felt romantic with you but i constantly tried to convince myself that it was okay because hey, at least i felt something, right?
phoebe Jul 2021
I. YOU CAN FEEL IT IN THE ATMOSPHERE, TEARS OF MY PSYCHE FOR YOUR SOL

II. HANDS RISE AS IF IN WORSHIP, LA LUNE SLIDES ON MY TONGUE & DOWN MY THROAT LIKE A TROPICAL JUICE

III. YOU EMBRACE THE STARS, I EMBRACE THE CLOUDS

IV. WE SING AN OFF-KEY MELODY FOR THE MORNING THAT RISES

V. WE SING AN OFF-KEY MELODY FOR THE MORNING THAT WILL NEVER COME
phoebe Jul 2021
in your arms, i find warmth.
i find 90s grunge band posters and fairy lights entangled on the walls with the scent of burning incense that has been lingering in the air around my nose for quite some time—a sensation of bliss between my cupids bow & chin when the sun touches my swollen lips with her soft & delicate ones—how does one tell the angel of the clouds to bring a storm down?

i find a remedy in our tomorrows
and a home in our forevers.
four years, more to go.
phoebe Jul 2021
maybe I’m just out of metaphors.
or maybe you’re just too good for them.

i tried listing the ways i could describe our slow motion romancing, but my tongue is always left with a dry taste on the surface. i tried naming artists that brought me to my knees but they could never compare to how you bring me to them today. no creative suites are worthy to be grazed metaphorically with your name in between the syllables.

maybe i’m trying too hard
or maybe i’m not trying enough.

the glass is half-empty and my phone has been lighting up with missed calls from my muse, where have you been? where did you go? will you come back? i tried ringing my creativity but she left me with dial tones.

i can’t sit here and say i never thought about running away from you. i run away from anyone that gets close enough to brush against my rib cage towards my heart, i never liked the way their hands felt. iced and reeking with their desperation. maybe I’m just too tired of the same old thing, maybe i’m just really stuck on you.

maybe, the metaphors weren’t on the page
but in our yearnings for each other to turn around and taste the eclipse.
SHE WILL BE LOVED.
phoebe Jul 2021
you don’t know me anymore
and truthfully you never really did.

you knew the parts i painted with my wrists but never the ones i created with my wretched heart that you repeatedly squeezed too tight and had me clean up the mess.

and if i’m being honest, i never really knew you either.

we both had a fantasized version of each other and what we desired each other to be, only to have reality sink in years later.

i was always five steps ahead while you were taking the fast lane to get further, never fully meeting our destination and mark.

the last time we talked, you apologized for the way you were and that you’ve changed

but if i learned anything from you,
it’s to never trust a wolf with no teeth

because they never know when to stop.
to the girl i once called a childhood friend.
Jul 2021 · 613
444
phoebe Jul 2021
444
my hands clung to any happiness i could achieve so when you came in swinging, i felt the rush of adrenaline in each and every part of my watery veins—they pumped with yearning and that’s all you ever made of me. a ghost wailing for its own vessel but to only be left hollow in a grave throughout the afterlife brim.

i always screamed too loud at night and i know you learned that you’re the reason why i can’t sleep on my left side for too long. but if it makes one of us feel any better, i cannot drink my coffee with four sugars without remembering how you always did things the same amount of times. never more, never less.

and if it helps you sleep better at night, just know, that i can’t.

my insomnia has been coughing up blood more and more as the days go by. the bedroom gets more suffocating and the comforters have gotten more tight. your name is still the same on my phone but you told me to lose that ages ago. (news flash, wide eyed watercolors never looked good on me.)

we both know the truth of what happened that night but you cannot risk your reputation to save my life.

because after all, only one of us have a soul
and everyone knows it isn’t you.
Jul 2021 · 999
take me away - lash
phoebe Jul 2021
it was june or july or august
everything i could never say carved itself my esophagus, the words that would never escape – you made sure of that. one hand wound around my throat and the other cradling her blushing cheeks.

she slips away but your grip only tightens.
fingers scraping – my flesh beneath your nails as i learn a new kind of silence. just a little longer, i’m almost gone. trapped like a bug encased in amber but when those wilted wildflower eyes meet mine, you know i’ll always forgive you.

my lips flicker like a flame as i wonder if i’ll slip away too.
of course not & you like that. push on the middle of my windpipe, crack it like a glowstick and watch my lucid acid purge from my throat in neon technicolor – you do it in a way where i’m both alive but running through the afterlife in white gowns & red stained feet

you recite those wendigo apologies while they look in your wildflower eyes, you purge those auto repeat explanations and how it will never happen again – but we both know it will. your testaments are all folklore, but i always keep reading it.

you lick the blood filled sorrows into my skin and i forgive you.
and i always will because daddy always showed that when a man loves a woman, he hits her.
more of a vent work that i decided to share. feel free to give your thoughts and opinions if desired! sending love **
phoebe Nov 2020
these broken bones do not need another broken home. the rattling underneath my skin is not a wailing sound crying for help. i will not beg to be wanted. i will not beg for a love that feels like home only to be accused of trespassing.
phoebe Nov 2020
i. he tells me that the iron in his bittersweet blood pumps just for me but the corybantic taste of gun metal on his plump heliotrope lips bears the names of other young lemon balm girls

ii. he runs his tongue over my bloodied lip and bitten flesh as a sugar-coated pristine apology leaves his own because love is only a blood sport for this arcane and the only way he knows how to love is to ****.

iii. he mixes vintage cyanide and coconut water inside of a wine glass while in the driver’s seat of his ‘69 fastback and leaves the blood orange sun rays to seep into my warm undertone skin that is slowly decaying in the passenger’s seat, waiting for his essence to bleach my bloodstream with his carboned deception.

iv. he sews bruised begonias and sullied belledonnas between the crevices of my teeth and leaves me with phantoms that will rip out every cuspid in my mouth; i will rot with the wailing of the weeping woman. he tells me that i am his favorite cryptic artwork throughout the history of sacred retellings.

v. he burns out his corojo cigars onto my ashtray glass skin and watches how it pops, crackles, and melts into my safety pin bones and grow tumor cells within the cracks of my peach mimosa ribcage until i wither to smoke and dust

vi. he sharpens his teeth with a razor blade and licks up the flames of my soul with his serpentine tongue. he will swallow me whole like an acid tab and offer the same one to the next girl with a sharper spine.

vii. my body is his confession booth, wrapped in all of his sins like barbwire. he is absinthe mixed with satiating sunday sins who kisses gospel into my thighs and i fall to my bare knees for a devil with the framework of a god.
oh hi! long time no see!
Aug 2020 · 94
mother tongue.
phoebe Aug 2020
he plays a sweet symphony—
touches as soft as silk
cherry stained kisses like
remedies to my mouth

he reads my skin like poetry
and whispers about dissolving into our skin—
je t'aimais,
je t'aime,
je t'aimerai.
Aug 2020 · 135
ultraviolence.
phoebe Aug 2020
i love you the first time
i'll love you the last time
dame tu cadena y dame tu corazón
because i'm your poet on fire
and you're my royal blue singer
i love you forever
i'll love you forever
i wrote this a few days ago, this was obviously heavily inspired by lana
Aug 2020 · 118
pyromania.
phoebe Aug 2020
burning sensations on ****** tongues
( come on baby, light my fire! )
silky fingers slide into my throat and make me
purge a sweet haven for you.
( jesus christ, you’re a mess. )
your mother always said not to mess with fire
but here you are playing with my matches.
Aug 2020 · 89
we don't have to talk.
phoebe Aug 2020
ILLUMINATE ME. MAKE THE ROOM GLOW.
BREATHE HUMANITY INTO MY COLD DEAD LIPS.
DIP YOUR BLEEDING TONGUE INTO MY RIBS AND
TASTE LIFE ON MY SINEW. I CRAVE THE FEELING OF
BEING WANTED, I THRIVE OFF THE FEELING OF LOVE
AND PASSION. I CUT MY FINGERS ON YOUR SHARDS BUT
I LICK THE BLOOD OFF AND KEEP TRYING.

THEY SAY IM A HAZARD
BUT THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE THEY
HAVEN’T MET YOU.
Aug 2020 · 81
please be naked.
phoebe Aug 2020
your lips touch my ear / breath on my skin / making mine hitch /
goosebumps on my body / you whisper love prose / paint me in golden strokes / i will come undone for you / your name is stuck and clogged in my throat / i’m not choking  on you / i’m choking on us / we’re fiery beacons of light / i will come undone for you / i feel fireworks exploding in the pit of my stomach / i wish i could stay here / stay with you forever /
isn’t that part of our purpose? / stay with me / stay with me in the morning light.
Jul 2020 · 77
clementine.
phoebe Jul 2020
your lover is a forest fire and she keeps
you warm all throughout the winter.

she lights, you burn.
she fades, you yearn.
does it ever get tiring
to love something so volatile?

my lover is the gentle breeze of spring
the serendipity of summer
and i’m not ashamed to say i love her.

she nourishes,
i grow.

we
bloom
together.
Jul 2020 · 86
wonderless.
phoebe Jul 2020
my lover came to me in a form of a musician.
he sang melodies and loved being on stage
but he didn’t love me.

my lover came to me in a form of a musician.
it was no surprise that he turned me into history blues.
Jul 2020 · 93
love was never enough.
phoebe Jul 2020
i can see your silhouette against the lone silver frame of
the island moon. even your veins are paper mache, and there’s an
ache in my heart like you left your fingerprints all over my chest and
kept me from breathing properly. it’s fun to watch: you’re a scraped kneecap.
a kid who won’t take off his training wheels, spring in the desert.

you can see: everything is special in my eyes only if it’s
in relation to you. if i am the moon then you are the stars, lending me your sheen.
Jul 2020 · 90
dear muse.
phoebe Jul 2020
two years later,
do traces of me still
hide in the pages of your worn-out
song book, the same way i scatter pieces
of you in the crossed-out lines of my poetry?
phoebe Jul 2020
how cliché

a drunk getting into bar fights
at 3am
(he cant punch what’s
really bothering him)
in the well-lit street full
of people trying to find comfort
underneath the moonlight’s weeping tears.
phoebe Jul 2020
your vampire teeth
likes biting on what’s not yours
so you afford a fleeting ******
between a descendant tableaux
and your rosy cheeky maiden who you
****** the life out of

and when you’re done
you rest your head on my shoulder.
Jul 2020 · 71
liquor washed.
phoebe Jul 2020
if one day your
liquor washed mouth
would be as generous and kind
as my fingertips,
my heart would not find
salvation in other bodies that aren’t yours

my tongue and lips are too forgiving
of you and you do not deserve it

so drink up, liquor mouth
that’s all you ever do
Jul 2020 · 82
i don’t like darkness.
phoebe Jul 2020
you
love
setting
things
on
fire
when
there
is
nothing
to
break


so
you
set
yourself
ablazed
to
forget
me
in
the
morning.
hey! long time no see! today’s my birthday so i decided to pay a visit!
May 2020 · 69
summertime sadness
phoebe May 2020
he is the scrape of knees and knives
the clawing of fingernails on marble columned spines with the bones breaking down into dust

he is the scaring of a fresh wound that i inflict on myself so i can feel something and he is the stinging tears i cry, holding cyanide underneath a serpentine tongue.

he is the rawness in my chest and throat
from screaming for him to leave me be

but he brings me love
and dilutes my blood
with salt water
phoebe May 2020
meet me anywhere under the sun!
i’ll be waiting for you in a white sundress.
i’ve been waiting for you to come home.
we can share a strawberry and drink sweet honey iced tea in bottles
we could talk about how you captured the sun in your bare hands and swallowed it whole!
are you waiting for me? are you waiting for me, my love? because i’m waiting for you. it's all i do.
May 2020 · 312
body electric
phoebe May 2020
let our radiant warm bodies unfold between the bedroom’s white sheets and sink into the only religion we know— lust; hoping it revives us from our past sins.

we drench our messy souls in kerosene
so that when the fluorescent citylights
touch our fruit sap skin, we can burn tenderly
and call it afire love! we dance in old hotel rooms and paint each other’s bodies with technicolor beats and map each other’s anatomy and build pavements of small towns from it so we can finally stop telling ourselves that we’re lost souls.

our hearts vandalize our innocence and youthful skin in each other’s name dedicated to these serene days that we will never forget because i heard that’s what lovers do.
May 2020 · 74
my dear lover
phoebe May 2020
i met the love of my life in a dream.
we ate fresh baked bread on a floral bridge
that was over a running azure lake that had all kinds of water creatures below the surface, and i told him he was the one for me. “aime-moi” i said before we were in front of the eiffel tower. he kissed me with his pineapple juice lips and i got drunk off the feeling. his words were almost as enchanting as the scenery and the moment, i told him “estoy enamorado de ti!” and that’s when he disappeared in a cloud of peach hue smoke.

so please, loverboy
if you’re reading
let’s go back
May 2020 · 78
bigger than these bones
phoebe May 2020
i look at him and it’s so simple.
i love beautiful things and like to romanticize
fingers pressed to sienna skin that’s stained with vermilion. i sigh. unfolding in the corners of his eyes. “stop!” i’m trying to say. “this is too much!” i feel my whispers release into the ears of silent walls, they echo right down to his core and make him shiver. “i mean it!” i scream before the sudden pause. i cant help but weep.

it’s such a shame
that we think we’re bigger
than our bodies.
May 2020 · 69
bleeding nirvana
phoebe May 2020
let me write you love notes
i think about how i’ll carve them into the flesh of your cheeks, maybe with a smile
because if you’d just let me tell you about the way it feels when i see you come alive in the darkness, eyes blazed, love taking over your sun lit soul. we could dance on the mattress of the hotel bed while listening to nirvana and i can tell you how about the cards and how they lead me to you. i like your face, it’s quite enchanting. i think i saw it in a dream once.
May 2020 · 76
he is art.
phoebe May 2020
there was salvation in his smile.
an undeniable warm feeling
that would trickle in your crimson veins
like cold tears on radiant burning cheeks.

he looked like one of those crafty handcrafted
statues in those expensive-looking art museums. you can’t help but admire him and his scenery. god could return on earth in a
mortal body, but all i will see is my apollo.

golden honey hair and fresh water hazel eyes— eyes that could bring you to your knees in one simple glare

sun kissed bronze skin with rose and sword tattoos, my oh my, he’s blessed with michelangelo’s paintbrush! he’s a painting on god’s favorite art wall!

all i see is him.
all i see is art.
May 2020 · 127
honey and poison.
phoebe May 2020
baby, come get drunk off my sins.
i’ll whisper your holy name with words
from the bible in french and kiss your scars
before letting you ******* honey mixed with poison.
phoebe May 2020
tell me, my love, how did you rip off the warning labels on your body so i could be easily fooled? tell me! tell me!
you're exhaling chemicals and i'm inhaling them
the nicotine that fills your lungs is making them feel like they're going to explode, and you hold onto my shoulder for comfort

you claim you're better on your own
but i slept with you in your car because you were fist fighting demons on highway 90

so, baby boy, tell me how you ripped off those tags that were supposed to warn me about you? tell me how you got your friends to be quiet! tell me! tell me!

you're face to face
with death
and i'm about to shake his hand.
May 2020 · 87
watch it burn burn burn!
phoebe May 2020
worn out faux leather jackets for lean shoulders; tattoos with meaning; tattoos with none; smirking lips glisten whiskey and salt; slender diesel-smudged hands wrapped on a bottle, waist, throat.

wispy smoke veiled sick brown eyes
nicotine, gunpowder, or maybe just you
your fiery breath
in the haunting brisk of autumn

pain and pleasure in semi-darkness
behind locked doors
floral perfume oil with the rotting nostalgia stench and bitter tobacco melting through
one match made in heaven! set the world on fire!

mess in a mess; flesh and soil
my funeral congregation of saint skies
you mumble an urban prayer, throw a gardenia
in the dirt, flicker of the flame. let it burn!

ashes, ashes, she shall fall down.

when the bullet burned my heart
did your senses sizzle with satisfaction?
it won’t be the first time
my body gave you pleasure

and i’m sure it won’t be the last time
when pain excites you
phoebe May 2020
i’m slow dancing in a burning room
and my faults are on full display
as the smoke fills my tar black lungs
the song is getting louder and it feels
as if i’m entangled with the ghost of who i used to be

these may nights are lonelier
than they once were
it’s as if they’re telling me
“here’s the knife!”
before jabbing it in my insides
where they know it hurts the most

i look for my soul
but i don’t know where it’s gone
where did i bury it?
can somebody tell me?
— i hid my feelings so well
that i forgot where i buried them.
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