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phoebe May 2020
it’s my soul
it isn’t yours anymore.
phoebe Apr 2020
choke down the cherry cola cough drops into your throat with diluted acid from the saturn’s rings she adorned you with. they told her she had venus’ kiss in her irises, and you have the cosmos running through your moon dust veins.

let the calories in the stardust graze your melted coarse organs as you choke on your fester words.

she spun you into the withering web of burning rose petals and expired prescriptions.

oh god, how you thought you were the hurricane but look at how she made your insides into a liquid mess and fed them to your demons.
only people close to me will know why it’s titled that, but here’s this!
phoebe Jul 2021
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 Mar 2020
i always wake up and write at 4am, and how ironic that i started this at 4:44am.

you always told me that i needed to set a routine, and if i’m being honest with you, my routine had been demolished a long time ago when you decided to come in crashing.

the room is pitch black, but i can still see your face. i can see the galaxy in your eyes and the constellations running down your arms, chest and spine

did it hurt, my love? when the lord casted you out of heaven?

is this why you need to feel like a god? because he never let you be one?

you make my heart ache, and i feel your hands ****** and fussy in my guts that it makes me want to purge out acid. that’s all you’ve been making me want to do lately.

your name is shared with a gun
and i felt your bullet pierce my heart
the last time i said it.
i decided to title this the time i started writing this because it just felt as if it suited it. but, enjoy this! it’s one of my newest works.
phoebe Apr 2020
i really thought you were the one for me. i truly and utterly believed that you were my soulmate and we were going to be happy. i gave you everything i could offer and you took it like a greedy man and gave me nothing in return and left me with nothing. how selfish can someone be? i never knew how bad of a person you were until i saw your true colors. how are those other girls tasting now that you’re single and don’t have a girl waiting for you back at home? how are the liquor bottles tasting too? still getting drunk off something that’s not my words? you’re pathetic. you’re broken. and i cannot fix you. i wish you would see how much you’re hurting me. stop texting me please. i want to move on, and i think you should too.
phoebe Apr 2020
i always end up being amused when people compare themselves to the darkest night and the blinding white like the marble tabletops and the ******* you snort.

i’m more of a mediocre mustard yellow and royal blue, maroon and grey. i can’t live life in extremes even if i ******* tried. i’ve learned that.

so i brew me up some hot nostalgia and let it sink into my pores, and let it create tension in my heartstrings but just not strong enough to rip them apart. it’s almost ****** up if i say it like that. i’m in a constant state of being ripped apart but not quite, i’m always half way there. i’m not worth anything to the point where the people who want to break me, can’t even do it fully.

i’m an almost human, an almost adult, almost desirable, and almost dead.
i’m drowning in the almosts, and it’s snuffing out my spark. it’s almost pathetic. i’m just fixating on everyone that neglected me.

and i’m rambling, i like rambling
i also like christian anthony
but i can’t do him.
at this point
how do you free yourself from the almosts?
or do you let them soak through your decaying skin? tell me.
phoebe Mar 2020
i wish i was normal.
i wish the chemical imbalance in my brain didn't control every move and thought that i make. it seems as if my disorders are written across my forehead and my colored hair is a sign of my illness. but last time i checked, i thought if i dyed my hair, the chemicals in the dye would seep into my brain and give me a spare of serotonin.

i mean, it works. for a few days at least. then i'm back wishing i was dead and praying for a solution. i never ******* pray unless it's for my own benefit. i should probably find my peace because i thought i had it.

i told myself i wasn't going to write this because i didn't want anyone thinking i'm a lost cause. but maybe i am. maybe there is no hope for me. i'm happy, genuinely happy, don't get me wrong, but i'm numb too. undeniably numb.

i don't care about what people say, i don't care about their feelings. i don't care.

i may be a water sign
but ****
i feel like fire.
this is also another very personal one. let me know what you think!
phoebe Mar 2020
cut me with the petals of your favorite flower
let your fingers glide gently on my skin and carve the letters of your name into my flesh

drench me in your favorite perfume so it becomes my permanent scent
the one you adore and look forward to when you see me

there's blood staining my teeth and gums
i wipe it off and it stains my chin
but you still think i'm beautiful

so cut me with the flower petals
and drench me in your favorite perfume
while you wash the blood out of mouth
and carve your name into my flesh

because i finally want to be the one you adore.
if you understand the meaning behind this than props to you! because everyone i read this to, didn’t understand haha
phoebe May 2020
there's a divine boy who is the personification of a greek tragedy.
he has heaven in his eyes and gold for bones.
he finds himself tangled and drunk off my fermented words
his head thrown back in ecstasy and delusional paradises.
a soul so electric, it gave me a shock of clarity
holding his name on my tongue feels hot and sinful
i couldn't contain it

( but i should've know that every tragedy ends the same
there's a reason they're called tragedies
i mistook the hellfire in his eyes for the heavens
and now i'm melting from my wings )
phoebe Apr 2020
i was too naive to notice the skeletons buried underneath the clothes in your closet and the blood staining your hands

i found all the bones and remains of your victims and i felt the acid in my stomach knowing i was next

i could hear your filthy words that were cursed with dishonesty but they sounded so sincere

they say that it takes trust, communication, and love to make a relationship

so i guess we weren’t anything to begin with.
phoebe Mar 2020
smells like cologne, the scent fills your nose and you're automatically drawn to him. the scent suits him nicely, and it's all i crave to smell whenever i'm hugging someone else. i get sad because it's never him.

spends his days on stage, the lights always falling perfectly on his body and ****** features as he strums his instrument and dances around with no care in the world. he's living in the moment, and i'm watching in complete amazement. he has me dumbfounded, and all i can do is smile.

says his name is christian, but i'm pretty sure it's apollo; because he's feared by most and he's more important than anyone else. he heals me in ways i can never bare to tell. his music is breathtaking, and i'm enchanted. he's my apollo.

is like poetry. filled with meaning and emotions. he can hook you with just a small hello! how are you? and i wouldn't know what to say if he ever said i love you. but i'm good! thank you for asking, just a little amazed at how you're so beautiful, my enchanting king.

(( it's funny because i keep describing him as such a god and how he holds me captive, but he's actually just a boy in a band who i crave the love of- but listen! he makes my belly get filled with butterflies and makes me feel like a melted popsicle on the fourth of july. i live for the way he makes me feel. ))
this is a very old poem that i wrote when i first started talking to an ex of mine. it’s sad how things change.
phoebe Mar 2020
i’m too far to feel you
but i still remember your skin
and how it felt

the way it felt against my palm
and the way your hair went through the cracks of my fingers

i don’t see my face in your heart anymore
and i know i’m the last thing on your mind
you only call me when you’re drunk and alone

you told me you’d rather be in los angeles than sit with me in texas and try to fix the things that were falling apart

i still feel you lying next to me and i feel like running as far as i possibly can but i know everywhere i go, your ghost will follow

i’m choking on the ghost of you
while you’re downing a bottle of liquor
and pinning a girl to a mattress.
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.
phoebe Apr 30
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 May 2020
“better to die standing than to live on your knees.” you remarked

lawyer? no.
doctor? no.
you wanted to be revolutionary.

you wanted to be the dawn
when all the stars in the sky fade
into one.
you were red all over, a deep crimson
with passion and rebellion
i wanted to taste your sweat, your blood,
oh and your crybaby tears.

but all i have is this portrait of you, my love
(but everyone else does too!)

oh, my lover
the man with twinkling eyes
the ink michelangelo blessed him with
the terror bloodbath he bathes in

you did not become a revolutionary
you became the revolutionary

so i will try to stand
what if
i’m on my knees
for you?
phoebe Mar 2020
the neighbourhood is playing in the background and you’re downing a bottle of liquor while i sit on the cold wooden floor with my knees to my chest

you were on your third bottle and i kept watching them pile up
you loved to ruin your body because you said it made you feel as if you had control.
you wanted control.

i think that’s why you always held my hand.
not because you loved me and wanted to
but because you felt as if you had to
in order to keep me in line

i watched you put another pill on your tongue
as your head went back.
i can’t stand the sight of you sometimes
and it makes me want to down that same bottle of liquor to ease my bitterness towards you

but if i did that
you’d call me a ******* alcoholic again.
phoebe Mar 2020
we lit the flower petals on
fire because we wanted to destroy something beautiful

i didn't know i was beautiful
until you destroyed me.
phoebe Mar 2020
i'd rather count the freckles on your back and trace the birthmark on your chest than think of the ways you could possibly hurt me

i've lived my life in high hopes and expectations only to be hit with the strong and devastating reality

your hands on my hips as we swayed to the neighbourhood i love you track number four on your bluetooth speakers and your lips traced patterns on the skin of my neck and i swore the lust i felt was love

your eyes said one thing, but your body movements said another

your eyes said they were hungry
they were longing for something more than just a one time feast

but your hands were so delicate with my body
that it felt as if i was porcelain

you said could tame the beast within you, but you didn't know for how long

and it didn't take long before you devoured me.
phoebe Mar 2020
and this is when i learned being alone is safer than being with you
your knuckles are bruised and wrapped in ace bandages
you told me you just had a bad night and it'll all be fine in the morning

but the bad nights just kept coming
the ace bandages never unwrapped from
your hand but you swore the light at the end of the tunnel was getting closer and closer

i don't think your dollars held together by a rubber band and smooth lies are going to save you this time

you can't keep avoiding the problem and expect it to be fixed and solved by itself
it doesn't work that way

once something goes wrong, you immediately flee and never look back
until you do and the problem comes back
but you're too much of a coward with too much pride that you can't even see it in front of you anymore

i hope my voice rings loudly in your ears telling you that you need to get your **** together and stop living in a make believe world

one day you will realize that not everyone is going to fall down on their knees for you

and it'll be a huge wake up call.
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.
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.
phoebe May 2020
you carved constellations into my wrist
and painted my body with the blood
i thought it was beautiful
but i should’ve known that eventually
i would bleed out
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.
phoebe May 2020
you light incense in your house to
keep the bad spirits away, but i still don’t understand how you could let me in. my soul is frigid and inked filled. it is raw and violent. it is terror.

i tried searching up your birthchart when i was high on my sentiment, but ended up vomiting on my bedroom floor and didn’t finish. but i heard sagittarius’ are adventurers, do you want to take a trip to my anatomy? you could play the harp with my ribcage, and play jump rope with my heartstrings. i don’t mind the pain when it comes to you. rip my heart out if you want, make my bones become dust! i love the pain when it comes to you.

you made me forget that i hated myself when we were lying in that cheap hotel bed, laughing with our veins filled with adrenaline. we were drunk off each other’s energy, and i felt complete. mama loves you, and she wants me to keep you around. she doesn’t have to worry though, because i want you around too. for as long as possible. please don’t leave. please don’t leave.

the phoenix is a sign of renewal and i used to wear that bird’s charm around my neck. keeping it on me at all costs. i would hear death knock on my bedroom door, and hear the skeletons in my closet cry for more. i should’ve suffocated them harder.

i ended up losing that necklace after two years of having it. but i don’t think i need it anymore because you replaced it.

so let’s strip the world black and white, mon chèri.
and you can play the ukulele
while i write love verses on your ceiling.
i wrote this for my best friend whom i love very much! he is electric and he sends jolts in my body like euphoria
phoebe Mar 2020
i tried telling my best friend at the time that i was hurting and my heart was ready to explode, it felt as if my lungs were giving up and i knew i was going to slit my wrists in the bathtub sooner or later with my clothes still on.

he laughed in my face and told me there was nothing wrong with me. i stood there in silence, trying to accept that my own best friend didn't believe me when i said i was falling apart. i cried myself to sleep that night and woke up in my own saliva, it was disgusting.

my best friend told me he loved me to death and would do anything to protect me. he tried kissing me one night and things haven't been the same since. he makes me want to wrap myself up in barbed wire and drop myself off a high cliff, falling hard onto the ground.
but if i tell him that
he'll say
wrote this during a depressive episode. usually i don’t write about myself, but lately, i found myself doing exactly that.
phoebe Mar 2020
i don't need your help. my hands are not the ones covered in crimson. yes, they're shaking, but that's because you jabbed the knife in my guts repeatedly until i could no longer process my thoughts and all i can feel was the numbing pain. it didn't hurt, only when you pierced the flesh again and again, but it didn't hurt. you threw my phone across the room and i'm on the other side, i can't call an ambulance and my blood is soaking my shirt and carpet.

all i can hear is you saying that i'm in the wrong and that i'm the one with the knife.

ouch! that hurts, your fingernails are digging in my temples and you're trying to scream hateful verses in my ears as if they were prayers. and before i knew it, i bled out on the living room floor.
this is about a toxic friendship i was in and it completely ruined me. i wrote this at four in the morning, hoping to release some bitter emotions.
phoebe May 2020
now it’s 3am and you’re
calling me up again

going on about the **** you
wish you said

the words slur
and the music in the background is louder

this is when i learn
you only call me when you’re drunk.
phoebe May 2020
memories do not always soften with time
like these ones i carry on my spine
sometimes, they grow edges, like blades
some memories pierce.
ghosts don’t haunt us; it is us who cannot let them go. (i am telling you now: let go or be dragged)

i stay up nights upon nights with madness filling my ink veins
ugly grief is the price we pay for love
how quick we are to run back to those who hurt us and fight ourselves for their redemption

i saw his soul with my dark eyes
and held it in my bare hands
i loved it, oh, my, i adored it

i still do.
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?
phoebe Mar 2020
he smelt like cologne and regret
but tasted like cherries and cream
every time we kissed, i had a new memory

our first kiss.
eager lips and touching before he got me into bed, and took what was mine. i woke up with aching between my thighs as he told me he loved me while i laid there wrapped in silk.

our third kiss.
it was in a tour bus. everyone was loud, but i could still hear my heartbeat. his breath was shaky and i felt it on my lips before he pressed his on them. his brothers and friends cheered us on.

our eighth kiss.
this is where things got tricky. we didn’t kiss to love anymore, we kissed for lust. he stopped kissing me as an act of care and affection, but started as a way to make me beg for his touch. he knew how to get me eager and ready for him, and he took advantage.

our last kiss.
it was rainy, and i was sobbing as he screamed things that were aching my heart. he was walking out the door when i grabbed him and gave him a final kiss. that’s when i tasted the cigarette ash and liquor. something that tasted bitter.

he no longer tastes
like cherries and cream.
me looking back at my past with my past lover, hoping this could help me get over him. if you’re going through a rough time with a lover or even a friend, just know you’re not alone! and i’m here if you need to talk!
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.

phoebe Apr 30
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.
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 Apr 2020
i hope you never find my poetry
because then you’ll realize why i left

darling, i know i claimed that i moved on
but you gratified on the walls in my mind
like it was the fourth of july

you said you trusted me
and said you’d catch me if i fell

and i know i never said i’d catch you
but darling, i’d hold the pain of your world
on my back so i could see you smile

i know you wouldn’t believe me and half
the things i say if you were to read these right now

but darling, my love for you is still as strong
and don’t tell me you moved on
because i don’t wanna know.
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 Apr 2020
am i all that you ever wanted? or has it been so long that you’ve forgotten? it seems i’m talking to an automatic voice message and listening to these dial tones while i pray for you to pick up the phone, but you’re too busy filling your lungs with nicotine while a girl gives you head

you’re so pathetic, preying on innocent girls like it’s a bloodsport. you have skeletons in your closet, but you swear they don’t belong to you.

you hide your feelings like a corpse you want to get rid of, but baby, the stain remains.

talk to me nice, darling. say those sweet words and i’ll swoon and get into your bed again, before you leave me bare in a hotel room and i have to call my mom again at 4am

endless vicious cycles of lust and hopeless wishes, i learned to accept the fact that you will never ******* change no matter how many times you say you will

and oh, how the tables have turned

you’re the one listening to those **** dial tones now.
this is a quick and angry rant poem (the less explicit and crazy one tbh) so here!
phoebe Apr 2020
you never loved me but i keep on loving you until my bones begin to ache with the apprehension and i keep on worshipping until i believe there is no other god. i know deep down, i'd put a bullet through my brain if you ever rejected me. or maybe i'd put one in yours. and deep deep down, i want to slit the world in half and make you choke on its blood because i'm choking on all this infatuation i have for you. i adore you, and the thought of you not ever wanting me is eating me alive like maggots eating a decaying corpse. i wish i could tell you how much you're ruining such a vile and rotten young girl with just one look. lick the venom off your gums, baby and get faded off my blood.
this is more of a dark poem, where i let out the other thoughts in my brain. love isnt just about the fun and happy feelings, it’s also about the rough and the dark ones too.
phoebe Mar 2020
my mother always warned me about drugs.

she always warned me what they could do and how they possibly could end your life

but mama never warned me about the one that had dark brown eyes and a heartbeat.
let me know that you think? kinda insecure about this one, and don’t know if i like it or not yet.
phoebe May 2020
he held more curiosity
in his electric dark eyes
than most people did
in their entire body

but he came and went so often, my darling, i did not think love was practical for us. it was a dream! more ridiculous and risky than all of his noble adventures combined!

i hid my deepest feelings so well
that i forgot where i places them

dear my lover
go on! i have a new adventure for you!
etch your roads in my molten bones
burrow for those jewels of my love
you’ll find them somewhere near
the arteries in my heart in the oasis of
a desert

that’s where i will wait for you, my love!
under the shade of a palm tree
dipping my bare foot in azure waters
sparkling under the eastern sun

come find me
i’ll be waiting

(i can’t wait for you to tell me
how you killed two birds with one stone)
phoebe May 2020
i am alone on my bedroom floor
the carpet burns my calves and the runny nose and eyes
i can feel the moon closer than ever as if it’s waiting for a big kiss
it looked like a crescent keyhole, the other side being a realm of light. being in the dark never felt so unsettling, i forgot how lonely summertime is.

i remember i told you i wanted to live amongst the stars and sleep on the moon
you smiled at me and said
“i would love that too, but won’t you get scared of living in the darkness without seeing the light?”

oh but darling, whom are you to speak? you’ve been surrounded and consumed by darkness all of your life. what’s a little less moonlight going to do to you?

maybe summertime isn’t so lonely.
maybe it’s just me.
maybe it’s always been just me.

filled with rage, laced with shame.
disgust fills my weary bones
this cannot be!

i would die to be myself again
i would die to be myself again, with you.
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 Mar 2020
there was a warrant for my arrest not too long ago

it was all over the news, and i couldn't help but laugh. why would they put that out? my body standing amongst the blood-stained carpet. they say i'm a murderer.

body found, they found it still in it's clothes in the bathtub but they could still see the mutilation. the place looked horrendous. i knew there was only just a matter of time.

it seemed like those crime series where each episode gets them closer to the killer, but with the way these scenes are being handled, they can't find dna on the body.

they can't find the ****** weapon. all that's there is the trail of blood from the carpet to the bathtub from the victim. out of all places, why did they choose the bathtub? they could've gotten help.

you see, you ask yourself these things because it's ******* logic. i asked myself these things too before my head went under the water.
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 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 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.
phoebe Apr 2020
i stopped my habit of stealing flowers from graveyards when i found out you were giving them to someone else.
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.
phoebe Mar 2020
the woman lays her halo on the pillow that used to be mine.

she sips my red wine and gets drunk off his fermented words, her long legs are wrapped around his body as she lets out a laugh

she knows what she’s doing
so now this drink is too hard to swallow

does she ******* margarita tongue when kisses him?
i really hope she does.
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.
phoebe Mar 2020
she was listening to the songs he put on the playlist he made for her at 4:23am in an oversized *** pistols shirt, barefoot in the kitchen with tears streaming down her cheeks as her hips swayed, a white mug in between her palms as the dark black coffee fills the emptiness he left inside of her, and the clouds of light grey smoke fill the air and replaces the aching silence in her head.

cigarettes and black coffee as food for the ones hungry for love.
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