Olivia Bess-Rhodes: Poems

365 Days

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Dec 2014

365 Days

Everything I write
reads like you
but reflects me.

all that I can
get down on paper
is how easy it was
to say sorry and then
nothing at all

I want to find out
what it is about you
that makes my fingers
itch for a pen
when I know they're
all out of ink

I don't think I
really know anything
at all but I want to know you

6,570 days of you

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Mar 2016

6,570 days of you

I'm eighteen now
and I have never been so selfish
I miss being afraid of things that
could never touch me but now
ballot boxes
and white men wearing suits
with red ties
keep me up at night
because my future is more
than an election
my head is full of
empty rooms where I assumed
you would want to be
and I want to know why I
fall in love with
places not people
wants not needs
words not actions
and you most of all.
I need you to teach me how to say goodbye
to all of the things that
aren't good for me before it's too late
I am only eighteen.

Carving

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Apr 2015

Carving

You asked me if
I was sad on purpose

when I'm just a carving block
and your fingertips blades.

and my flesh is another
layer you could break through
so you did.

I had to find out bed sheets are really just
a veil of innocence when lifted looks
like regret.

I am a shallow grave
that you dug
knowing I could
never dig myself out.

and you asked me if
I was sad on purpose.

Chronic

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Feb 2015

Chronic

It's not the dark that scares me
or what is under my bed
it's who's in it
because I know myself
and that's the worst part.

For Lane

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Nov 2014

For Lane

He is blank stares
soft hellos and
simple strugs

He is the freedom you feel
watching a sunset in mid July

He is your favorite cup of coffee in
an empty shop half past two

He is the prayers you say
before you sleep and
secret you couldn’t keep

He is your hopes and dreams
of getting the hell out of here

He is chaos that is grasping
for order
and the anchor that makes things
sink

He is an unmarked grave
in a cemetery full of headstones
and all of the things at
the bottom of the ocean

He is a room
filled with dusty books
that you will never be able
to read
and the other side of the
crescent moon

I guess some things
you just can’t explain

Found

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Apr 2015

Found

buried beneath
a deserted tombstone
a defective angel
slowly turning to air
with eyes horribly alive
cradled in the coldness of hell
bitter innocence tangled her skeleton
blinded by the dark inside
rocked by the march of silence
flooding depth concealed her screams
arrested in a fit
always cold, always
death had devoured her
the cold went into her heart
she was such a good child.

Heroine

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Feb 2015

Heroine

she only liked things
that were covered in
blood and begging her
to stop.

His Bedroom Walls

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Nov 2014

His Bedroom Walls

I’m seventeen now
and I miss my dad
My hands are always cold
I miss your hands
I am terrified that you’ll
find something missing in me
that you loved in her
I feel the flower
you left on your dresser
it wilted years ago
I can’t stop staring at
the shadows on
his bedroom walls
because I take advantage of
the way people feel about me
I don’t want to be
another version of myself
I want you to tell me
you really hate me
because I do too
I can't control the things
that I need to change
and everything I have said
since my thirteenth birthday
sounds like "I'm sorry"
I hate that my silence
is too loud
for you

How Things Work

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Nov 2014

How Things Work

I wanted to do everything
with you so I could pretend that
I hadn't already

I thought
it would fix me
but that's not how things work

I was still sad when
you touched me
Probably because
I didn't even feel it
and
when you told me
that you loved me
I heard your voice
crack
it's 3a.m. now and
I keep saying to myself
this is just how things work

How To Become What You Hate

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Nov 2014

How To Become What You Hate

You only wear dark clothes when you're sad
now you're wearing black

My hands are the coldest you’ll ever hold
I think my heart is too

I’ll never be big
or small enough to fit in your arms
                                              I always kiss
   the wrong person goodnight

Now ask me how many times you kissed me
then how many times I actually felt something

          Maybe we are just  a lesson that
has gone unlearned
                        Or maybe I just don't know how to end this.

My Life Is a Wreck

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Nov 2014

My Life Is a Wreck

There was no preparation
certainly no expectation

The airbag skid against
my skin, burning exposed chunks of flesh .

jagged pieces of glass shattered all around me.
carving and slashing into me

Overhead a streetlight sat unharmed almost
igniting the scene like a morbid film.

Crimson blood ran down my face
and flowed like a leaky faucet onto my lap

I think there’s something
about touching death
that makes you feel life

Pyrrhic

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Feb 2015

Pyrrhic

You told me not to worry but you never told me how. Somehow I see you even when you aren't here. I understand why you left I just wanted you to tell me why. I still think about what happened and I still think it was my fault. I want to ask you what it felt like to hear me cry and if she's what you thought about when you were holding me. But all I have is Good Bye.

Sunday December 1st, 2013

Olivia Bess-Rhodes Dec 2014

Sunday December 1st, 2013

I'm sixteen
and I think I love you
I want you to save me
because I can't save myself
I hide behind
a full plate
and a notebook
covered in words
that you will never
understand
you took everything
from me because you
knew I loved you
that much.
The leaves are
changing and so am I.
Every pen I own has
ran out of ink
I hate that I said
it was okay when
it wasn't because
I wasn't.
It's winter now
and nothing
has changed.

— The End —