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2.9k · May 2020
lovesick! lovesick!
phoebe May 2020
for a writer to be lovesick
is my only required ethic
in creating a work of heart

so when i skimmed your
saint kissed mouth
and moonlight eyes
indeed my first thoughts were— ah! art!

there it was
cupid’s finely-poised dart!
draw, aim, fire!
o, so sweet, a sinful desire

lovesick! lovesick! lovesick!
i wish to write you a work of art, angelus dulce!

you smiled
you whispered with ferocity
“love is an illusion, chèri.
but illusion is the first of all pleasures”

and at that moment
i dipped my body in your delusional paradise
and praised the saints for giving me the ****** wine to drink

illusion is the first of all pleasures.
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
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
905 · Jul 2021
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 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.
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.
779 · Dec 2019
i’m going to the sun.
phoebe Dec 2019
you remind me of the sun
burning and brightly beaming
but if i get too close, i’ll simply
melt

but i was always the one to take risks.
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 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.
628 · Nov 2023
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.
582 · Mar 2023
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.
578 · Nov 2023
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
571 · Jul 2021
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.
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.
539 · Apr 2023
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.
310 · Nov 2023
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
phoebe May 2020
he stood in front of me with his dead eyes, arms wide and a smile so big that it reached ear to ear. holding me into a tight embrace, he whispered how beautiful i was.


but darling has a serpent tongue that i couldn't see before.
his fool's paradise is dripping from his fingers while he plays the harp on my ribcage


parasite boy promised me his soul
and begged me to make him golden.
269 · May 2020
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.
184 · Apr 2023
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.
174 · Apr 2020
loverboy.
phoebe Apr 2020
loverboy.

“please kiss me until i can’t breathe!”
i beg
“show me the afterlife
show me the forbidden fruits that eve tasted
show me the eagerness and the aching pain that you feel in your chest
hold me for eternity throughout this lifetime
we can forget about heartbeats
because they’re so painful to feel
we’re just taking breaths to stay
we can count stars instead
you can taste the stardust on my tongue if you’d like
we can go to mars and slow dance until our feet are nothing but ash
can we be in love until there’s nothing left?
let’s lose everything there is to have!”
i roared
“please kiss me until there’s only an us.”
127 · Apr 2020
i learned to accept that.
phoebe Apr 2020
you feel too little
and i feel too much.
117 · May 2020
gods & monsters.
phoebe May 2020
in the land of gods and monsters
i was an angel looking for salvation
and he had the medicine i needed
he made my blood bleed gold rivers
and my heart pump love songs

in the land of gods and monsters
i was an angel looking to be adored
liquor and love
life imitates art
if i get a little prettier, can i be your baby?

in the lands of gods and monsters
i was an angel.
115 · May 2020
0505.
phoebe May 2020
it’s my soul
it isn’t yours anymore.
110 · Apr 2020
marlboro marlboro marlboro
phoebe Apr 2020
she pulls out her marlboro pack cigarettes and takes the slender cancer stick out and puts it between her lips

sparking the lighter, she throws her head back and wonders what all went wrong with her and her hades.

the bitter nicotine was filling up the emptiness he left inside of her hollow chest when he ripped out her heart and crushed it into a liquid crimson mess

she couldn’t pinpoint where things went wrong, but she knew things went downhill a long time ago. if she focuses, she can still
hear the rolling of his suitcase when he left her in that **** motel at 4am.

4am. it’s always 4am. and now she’s trying to **** some air into her heaving lungs when the clock hits 4’o’clock because all she sees is his silhouette.
103 · May 2020
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.
98 · Aug 2020
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
95 · Mar 2020
redemption.
phoebe Mar 2020
you have moon dust in your veins
and i want to taste the cosmos!

take my body away
toss it onto the pile
of all your rag dolls
and mistakes.
i'm just a vhs tape waiting
to finally be used and wanted.

you are a human blood bath
filled with destruction and wars
you taste like redemption
and i'm wondering if all the dying gods
taste the way you do.
88 · Aug 2020
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.
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 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.
86 · Mar 2020
i’m not yours anymore.
phoebe Mar 2020
and i’m still waking every morning, but it’s not with you anymore.

i’m no longer waking up to smudged eyeliner and mascara, with an arm wrapped around my stomach, tugging my back closer to a chest as i hear steady breathing

it sounds calming when you say it like that
but if people only knew what happened an hour prior, they’d be calling it chaos and no longer ‘relationship goals’

relationship goals.
that’s what people called us.
but i don’t think endless fighting and make up *** could ever be relationship goals.

we showed everyone what we wanted them
to see, but behind closed doors
we were falling apart

i’m no longer going to sleep every night with ace bandages wrapped around my wrist and your warm breath going down my neck as you tell me it’s gonna be okay

i’m going to sleep with my cats and telling my nana that i’ll see her in the morning because i know for sure i will

i’m waking up with a smile on my face with my own embrace
i’m no longer waking up with heartbreak.
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.
85 · Dec 2022
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 Mar 2020
the smoke started to follow you
and this was expected
because smoke does follow beauty
and you're constantly surrounded by it
with the lit end of your cigarette

the slender cigarette is resting between your ******* and you inhale the nicotine that is living in your lungs
sometimes i want to rip it out of your mouth and squish it with my the tip of my boot
but instead, i stay put because only you can make death look so marvelous.
76 · Mar 2020
is this the afterlife?
phoebe Mar 2020
they told me i'd be signing the DNR papers
if i fell in love with you
and i remember putting down my signature
i’m going to be posting some shorter poems because they need some love too
73 · Jul 2020
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.
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 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!
71 · May 2020
caraphernelia.
phoebe May 2020
“i’ll burn your name into my throat
and i’ll be the fire that’ll catch you”

people told me it’s good to pick up the pieces and put them back together as a whole

but what if i don’t even want to?
70 · Apr 2020
you’re so filthy.
phoebe Apr 2020
you’re such a melancholic enigma.
heart shaped bruises on your neck and lipstick stains on your porcelain skin

there’s no beauty running through those filthy veins, you are not crystalline.

you have terror in your words as they hold me in a tight embrace. i never felt so cold, yet so warm in someone’s grip. i could get frostbite from your hands, and a heatstroke from your lips.

your tongue is sharp as a blade
you had enough time to practice
and now you’re slicing my chest open
so you can rip my heart out.
69 · May 2020
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
69 · Aug 2020
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.
66 · Apr 2020
graveyard flowers.
phoebe Apr 2020
i stopped my habit of stealing flowers from graveyards when i found out you were giving them to someone else.
66 · Apr 2020
another poem about him.
phoebe Apr 2020
our stomachs are filled with words that we are too afraid to tell each other
and i’ve pretended to go mad so i could tell you about the things lingering in my brain because apparently in the midst of chaos, you’re allowed to spare some honesty.

and i really hate to see you this way
depression and anger oozing from every pore while you rub neosporin on your self inflicted scars

you’re such a wreck, and people make sure you know that.

but i wonder why you never tell them that i was behind the steering wheel.

lately i’ve been spending my days sitting in the dark wondering if i was the one who pulled you under the tides, or if i was the lifeguard who brought you back to shore

i promised myself i wouldn’t turn you into another poem
but it seems lately that’s all i’ve been doing

i can’t help it.
you’re my muse.

you reminded me that even in our darkest times, there will always be light. and we shouldn’t fear what lurks behind the shadows

and maybe i should stop searching for you in every man i meet

and maybe you should stop searching for girls who resemble me in some way

whatever we choose to do with our lives

i will always love you the same.
66 · Aug 2020
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.
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?
63 · Apr 2020
crying with the moon.
phoebe Apr 2020
if i didn’t worship you like i worshipped the moon, maybe we would’ve turned out just fine. but here i am, weeping and being bathed with the moonlight’s kiss as i beg for your return but all i feel is your presence lingering in the atmosphere while your touch is imprinted on my bones and became another layer of skin.
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.
63 · May 2020
she cried wolf last night
phoebe May 2020
you will not go on like this into the night!
i will rip the fascination and souls out of the moonlight; romanticize the way you reach your hand into the dark like the way you philosophize putting your hands onto a lover who cannot fathom between a tragedy and a fairytale.
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