I don't think you get how difficult this is for me. Do you?

At home, I can never be alone, always around my family because they are convinced I am a danger to myself and they have to keep constant watch over me. It's more like I'm trapped. I do not feel cared for, or loved (even though they do) but it feels like a prison where privacy and solitude no longer exist.

On campus, I cannot be myself. This writer, poet, loner, silent girl who only speaks to people who seem decent or whom initiates a conversation because she is too scared to do it herself. This insecure girl who must now change to acquire friendship, company. She only wants to be liked, accepted, and to belong. **** on Wednesday, clubbing, flings, shisha. I do not understand why it takes so much to have a friend that would stay. I smoke, and that would be the limit, but my loneliness begs for so much more.

In public, I want to just shout out who I am and who I could really be. I want to walk up to strangers and spark up a conversation of similar interest. Ask how they're doing, or if their family is well. Let them know I could be their friend and allow them to cry on my shoulder about the trauma they've been through. But I cannot. No one smiles when I smile at them, they only walk faster and turn their heads away. Why is it that simple acts of kindness or just friendliness can be such a disgusting and rare thing?

When I'm alone, I can be myself. I can cry and shout and sing and write and dance and do stupid things. I can smoke and laugh and scribble and put on make-up and take selfies while no one's watching. I can be at my worst, and I can be my best when I'm alone. It's a blessing and a curse but it's solitude which I treasure so much.

It's funny how much I crave companionship; a friend, a partner, a love interest. Yet, I wish to be alone. Why is that?

you are every midnight shot I should not have threw down my throat,
every syllable I should not have stammered out beneath
shy gazes and lowered eyelashes and chewed bottom lips.
you are every (in)coherent verse I could not keep
my shaky grip from messily scrawling across any blank page;
you are in every frustrated sigh,
every agitated run of fingers through messy hair,
every tear at 2am.

maybe, like writing in sand-
our feelings may wash away in
intermittent rain and satiated tide
filled with rough seashell and friendly fish.
maybe, in the nights
where the moon is hidden-
we simply close our eyes to the light
and lie to our incoherent minds
that we were deserted,
and no longer loved
merely to gain some sort of
melancholic self pity.
maybe, our senses
are blind to the most obvious,
to the situations which love us
and people who leave us.

you are beautiful,
but in the way that scares me-
like the end of a cigarette.
beautiful ashes that disperse in the wind
but warm to the touch
and causes scars when pressed against skin.
it's eerie to think
that the smoke surrounding you
and getting between your clothes and tangled mess of hair and face
is slowly rotting you on the inside,
eventually killing you.

(do you see what you're doing to me, scarlet?)

you are stunning,
like the moon on a stormy night.
you stand out amongst the dark clouds and lightning strikes
but do nothing to stop the thunderous booms
and heavy rain pelting down upon me.
you simply watch; serene and illuminated,
you watch
me
suffer.

but you are dark
not the mysterious darkness of a newly discovered cave
or dingy attic begging to be explored,
but a darkness that has become familiar to me
the gloominess of a soul
the dimming of a heart-
you've put out every light of hope and belief
I've ever known
and you've ignited the fire that holds no luminescence,
only the ability to burn and smoke
the fire of pain; your fire.

and it is (you are) corroding me.

I am mad, so mad to the point that my seething anger can be seen and felt by the red in my cheeks. I feel like I am about to burst, because my heart is pounding, continuously increasing it's pace. There is a mild throbbing at the back of my head and I feel it ever quicken and deepen as my rage becomes painfully noticeable. I wince, and that calms me down a little. The feeling of physical pain caused by an emotion as simple as anger can lead to an immediate calming effect. But I can no longer be calm because I am mad again. The rage I have in me is so strong that I am unable to let out a single word.
Not even a shout or scream or squeal of frustration. My chest feels like it may give up on me and explode, causing my heart to break apart my ribcage and skin and fall out into the open.
The smallest trickle of tears fall down my cheeks and my loathe for sadness only escalates my wrath. But as the tears continue to fall, I give in to it-
Becoming the vulnerable, sad little girl that had tried to be angry and was ready to burst, only to be consumed by misery and guilt once more.
I collapse into a heap onto the ground and turn my head so it faces the floor, wetting the surface with my tears and heavy gasps of hopelessness.

hair bleached, blonde, orange, ginger
(it's funny cos i'm not quite sure)
she brightens the rooms' darkest corners with just a mere twitch of her lips and her bright blue eyes and her giggle
it's perplexing how she doesn't see
(then again none of us do)
that she's as beautiful as the girl down the street
in fact even more
with every inch of skin and scar
it makes her prettier than anyone else
but the best part that no one else had
was the heart she held within herself.

tucked away and hidden,
like her arms always were under those huge school jumpers
she kept her soul and eyes away
from the nosy ones and lovely ones alike
despite them caring or not.
she always thought she'd never matter
to anyone else or even herself
but she failed to see the hearts and arms opening up to her
because she refused letting anyone in
(why katy why?)

so no more scars my lovely girl
put the blade away
don't even store it for those bleak rainy days.
because you're better than that all of this
because eventhough something in life may be amiss
there's always a gorgeous yellow sun to shine down on you
to light up your freckly face and your fluffy golden hair
and the scars are enough
so even though times are rough
your skin just needs a break
and so does your heart
though it may break apart
it will eventually come to its senses and piece back together.
you're oh so strong and one day a guy will come along
and you'd probably punch him in the face
but I hope that day would come soon
so I could see you giggle and swoon
over some white boy
(you better have good taste)

this pretty little flower
is such a blessing to me
and i'll never forget the trip we're going to plan
and i hope when we meet for tea perhaps
we'd still gush and laugh and rant
about things that mean too much about nothing
and we'd still be somewhat best friends

stressed and depressed but well-dressed is what they say
but i've only always seen her in ripped black tights and a short black skirt
*is it weird that we've never met but i feel like i've known her for years?

I wonder why it's made
Why there ever was such thing
To signify-
All signs of pain,
Hopelessness and hurt,
Torture and abuse.
The thick redness of the complicated liquid
Litter eery vessel in our bodies
Giving life
Yet symbolising death.
The very look or feel or texture of it
Almost aches the heart:
The very source of all
Good, pain and mystery.
Emotions run through our blood
In a continuous stream
Of laughter, tears and uncertainty.
That is why,
We're made.
Why: we possess
The things we are meant to have.
To live.
The way we do, now.

words unsung
and stories
unread,
but this silly little child
fears to leave her
bed.

i would want to live a fairytale
where you were the prince
and i the damsel in distress
awaiting the feel of your lips against mine

but this is reality
and i am no damsel
and you are no prince
and the touch of your lips
(and lovely fingertips)
has already brought me to
a happily ever after
with you.

there is a struggle in all our hearts
there is a fight in all of us
there are strangers in our closet
and skeletons instead walk among us.
we are the beaten and the broken,
the weakened and worn (out).
but we still have two fists
and two shaky legs
and a barely beating heart.
and that's enough for a lifetime.

you were never supposed to hurt this much
they said love would be good for me
for the both of us.

you were supposed to be the breeze in my face as I strolled along the simple shores
not the tiny coarse grains of sand I didn't notice stinging my eyes
or the persistent wave constantly knocking me over
as I tried to savour the sea.
you were going to be the cool wind on a hot summer's day
not the heavy storm that drowned my garden
and the dark cloud obstructing the sun's light so my flowers were never allowed to bloom again.

you were pain
and your grip was endless
why did I think you could heal when you were the cause?

you've churned me into vulnerability
and all i'm inclined to do
is to thank you
for breaking me and bending me
into a mould i can no longer break out of
thus,
compelling me to look to you
as my source of life
love
and happiness.

i am,
and always will be,
unconditionally yours.

Only a wee child.
A tiny little girl.
Oblivious to the world
And its swarm of monstrosities.

She yawned
And he glanced over,
Realising that it was time for her nap.
Her parents had gone out
And she was under his care
Under his wing
Trusting him
A little too much.
He tucked her into bed.
And snuggled in next to her.
She tossed and turned,
Trying to sleep.

But dreamland
Was a little more out of reach than it usually was.
"Want to try something?"
He asked, voice all regular.
Her eyes stared up at him
Sleepy yet curious.

He told her not to look underneath the blanket.
There was movement.
She trusted him,
she trusted him.
Then she felt her belly touch the blanket.
And her bottom exposed
As her ******* was pulled down.

What came next was a shock.
She did not know
Did not understand.
She was a child!
It was there.
Rubbing
Cold
Different
Eerie
She shivered in
What was it, delight?
7 years later she hoped it wasn't.

Snapping back to reality;
Pushing the questions to the back of her mind,
She glanced under the covers
And got a rough pull.
He scolded her.
She was scared.
She did not cry.
She needed to ***.
What was going on?

She could not sleep.
She was curious.
She was scared.
Everything changed.
She wanted more.
She did not comprehend.

7 years later,
She found out.
She understood.
And it was painful.
It was traumatic.
And it left such a deep scar
That could never
Ever,
Be healed.

She was 5 years old;
He was 14.

It's 11 years later and it still haunts her.
**Why me?

she whispered the words of hope
her breath thick
her words slurred together
as they danced from her tongue
loveliness surrounding the air around her.

she beamed the smile of happiness
her face lit up
like christmas lights on a traditional tree
and she shone brighter than any sun
allowing them warmth and laughter.

she sang words of life
and each sentence proved a lesson,
she taught and they listened
and they believed
in the slight glimmer of a dream that had once faded.

and finally
she loved with emotion and desire
with a strong passion
that could not be found in just anyone.
she was special
a beautiful young daisy
barely blossoming
yet letting the sun shine brighter
and gracing the dirt with her beauty.

despite it all
she never seemed to see
all the beauty she was and could be.
perhaps we should try
to be the good in our hearts
that she could perceive.
let the world smile with
Esther,
once again.

The monster inside,
She fights and she bites
Yet I don't feel a thing.

I can hear her screams of pure hatred,
Which almost seems like sweet nothings in my head.
Slowly, I breathe in; and so does she.
Despite being a beast in my head,
She acts like a regular person instead.
But I can't see her, no not yet,
I feel her breath next to mine.
Almost the same tempo;
So synchronised in time.
I inhale the sickly sweet scent
Of her smile.
The wind in her hair;
The drost in her soul.

I begin to smell,
The contempt in her eyes.
The evil, oh so bold.
And as all these senses
Merge into one-
She disappears.
Like a shadow fades into the light
Or a mighty devil scorned.

It almost feels like I'm free
Just for a moment.
Slowly, and gradually,
But it feels like it was in a split second.
The pain rushes back.
The realisation doesn't.
My senses resurrect from their numbness;
Ever so ploddingly
And I see
I see,
Her.
Looking right back at me,
As if she had been there for days, weeks, months,
An eternity.
Just, watching.
Waiting.
Ready to attack.
I look straight back into her eyes;
Barely breathing.
Barely smiling.
Barely feeling-
Anything at all.
It is then, the moons change and the stars shift
Feelings alter
And I feel something I seemed
Unable to fathom
Just a few moments ago.

Then,
I fear again.

you've held my hand and whispered against my cheeks
and though the dying wind may have bitten his last icy bite against the corner of my eyes
i no longer fear
anything

as long as i am
                           with you

I spoke to Scarlet this afternoon.
I hadn't seen her in such a long time.
funny thing is,
this is the first time I've ever spoken to her.
I've always liked to pretend she wasn't real,
was never there, and only a figment of my imagination.
but now I've finally found out
what she thinks of me.
what I've always thought of myself.
that, she whispers
was always the truth.

t   r   u   t   h.
what is that anymore?*

"whatever you can imagine is real."

well now I know.

I'm not sure
how much longer I can hold on
pretending everything was okay
or is okay
or will be okay
when in reality,
nothing is.
why do I keep trying to survive,
and continue telling myself I can
when I really, definitely, truly
cannot?
well now
I'll begin admitting.
they say that acceptance is the first step to recovery.
but who cares what they say anymore?
what if the only recovery left
for me
is death?
(the only escape)
well
if this doesn't serve as a suicide note,
I'm not sure anything else could be.

when her eyes open wide
I could feel the ocean rushing in them
I could see my reflected happiness
I could taste the sea water as she cried
when her lips parted to reveal perfect teeth and tongue
I wish i could indulge in her
I wish i could make her feel wanted
I wish all that came out of her mouth were moans of delight and sweet nothings she'd whisper into my ear
when her heart beat fast
I could hear the thunder of a storm approaching
I could hear the blood rushing to her head and to her cheeks
I could hear her thoughts tumbling about in her head

and I sat down to think and think and wonder
why have I not fallen in love with her yet?

who knew toxic fumes were so comforting?
we're humans who,
confide in pain and whisper secrets to the forgotten
why is it that
the flirtatious wisps of hurt
circle our minds and get in between our hair
and soothes every nerve in the body
when it isn't supposed to?

you're breathing again oh sweet lady

and that in itself is fear
who are we,
to take comfort in death?

we've got the ground below us when all we do is look up and wish we were one with the stars

*but don't we realize we already are?

it's becoming more and more apparent to me that the marks you left behind will forever remain
but I can choose to forget they are there in the first place.
I will pull down my sleeves and turn up my collar even if there is no wind
but only to shield the ever sharp eyes of mine reflecting back in the mirror;


*I will hide myself from                                                   me.

i can no longer distinguish pain from pleasure;
abuse from affection; contusions from caresses.
embraces could be delivered in tightly-clenched fists;
words of affirmation in abasement; trust in forced hands.
i can't tell the difference between love and hurt;
dark bruises and soft kisses; belittlement and support.

all i am familiar with now is the aftermath -
the tears, the marks, the aches;
hot showers soothing stinging skin, shaky knees and trembling hands;
the nauseating guilt; encapsulating, overwhelming fear

and the sickening inability to just walk away.

i'm breathing
with my breath caught in my throat
because your fingers are wrapped around my neck
but so are your lips
my heart is ready to break
and so are my bones
but we are trapped in a peripheral moment
and if i may i'd like to utter one last word with our dying breaths:

*"if"

"She was a little bird
Seemingly free from her cage
Of pain and mutilation."*

But they held her down,
Trapping her in her past.
They plucked her feathers out
One by one and bit by bit,
Until her wings were
Sorry excuses
And ****** stumps.
They reached her hands down her throat
And pulled out her voice:
The one she used to sing
Her sorrowful songs
And happy chirps with.
They took apart her torso
To reveal a beating ****** heart,
And they tore it to shreds
Leaving only icicles in place
Where it hurt to feel.
They reached to her face
And pulled out her longing eyes
Once big and beautiful
And left small black marbles in their place,
Allowing her to only see the beautiful world
As a monotonous void of has-beens.
They cut off her legs
The ones she used to dance and to run
And left behind twigs
Which left her unstable and wobbly;
Incapable and useless like a newborn without purpose.
They extracted her brain from her skull
Pulling out thoughts and dreams and imagination,
Forcing in demons and terrors
To keep her company during her lonely nights.

But then,
They tried to cut off her soul.
And they wrestled and fought,
They ****** and twisted,
But nothing budged.
It was as if
It was never there in the first place.
What they never knew
Was that a soul,
Being merely an embodiment of this little bird,
Contained barely a whisper of a being
Yet,
Was able to make or break the very core
Of one who could no longer feel.

Little did they know
As they tore her apart limb from limb
And took away everything she had ever known,
The very light which gave breath to her
Stopped
Shining
And left her.

Just like everybody else.

tell me again why the wind kissed the sea
remind me again why it wasn't the sky-
the sky's so pretty and perfect and calm,
but the choppy sea? please tell me why.

tell me again how the stars found the river;
there was no map written or drawn.
yet they drowned in her depths
leaving no stars left, and all I remember was the empty dawn.

tell me again which chapters she read
of the book he barely wrote-
what i don't get is how all these things
were said, when he never even spoke.

The rise and fall of his chest
As the breath of life flows through his body.
I watch, silently
Barely awake from last night's slumber that had taken me to its *****.
Barely moving
Barely making a sound
I wouldn't wanna wake him
As my thoughts swim around;
My mind starts to tumble
All about with love and wonder
Someone who fell in love with me
Though I'm such a blunder.
Something presses on at the back of my head
Calling me, alerting me
I only ignore it
Nothing is more precious than this moment.
He finally moves a little
Enough to put his left arm around my smaller frame
Beside him
Holding me down
Securing me in his embrace.
Then I begin to wonder as I settle my eyes shut again
How I ever got so lucky
How he makes me ever so happy
And how much it hurts
To realise..

I wake up
Everything is gone
He is gone
His arms are gone
The security I once felt is gone

I am alone.
Surrounded by darkness and the creatures of the night once more.
Haunted by the past, the present and what is to come.
The many boulders of life in front of me
Coming closer
And all I can do is
Wrap myself in the only arms I've ever relied on
As it begins to rain down my face once more
The tears I always regret crying
The pain I always despise feeling
And pray to fall back asleep into a restless
Yet more comforting
Parallel reality
Where nothing is real
Yet everything is.

love is a marathon
and I just can't
                           keep
                                     up.

I'd like to establish a relationship with an online poet so we can write away the time difference with words of uncertainty.*

and then maybe, after years of being hidden away behind screens and across borders and oceans we meet over a cup of hot beverage, shivering in the cold (preferably) and laugh about horrid lines we came up with and the confusion would be blown away by Jack Frost.

we'd be our raw vivid selves, poet to poet, human to human, friend to friend. maybe we won't even speak of poetry but of people we love, hate, bad things that happened, are happening, will happen. ordinary, extraordinary things.

and then perhaps; we might fall in love under the twinkling of eyes and sharing a love of words both complex and simple. perhaps.

you were a whirlwind;
& I got dizzy trying to keep up.
but the dust (you stirred) has finally settled;
& you are nowhere to be seen.
bits of you thicken the air, leaving tears
to continue stinging in my eyes
I was unwilling and I am alone.

I guess you were never meant to stay.

you were the summer's heat
and you kept me up all night
wetting my sheets with sweat and blood and tears.
you were the winter's icy wind
and you blew down my door
and got between my breath
and underneath my clothes;
making me shiver and struggle to breathe or keep warm.
you were the fall's leaves,
making my trees rain and the sky weep
and everything grew brown and withered and died.

but then you were the spring-
(where the flowers bloomed and the birds sang and things grew again and the sun shined again and the wind blew again)
and you made it all worth it, again.

I want to die;
no, actually- I want to live.
but, I want to escape
from the time that traps me
that holds me down
and suspends me underneath
the lack of ticking from the minute hand;
as the clock stares me down
not understanding what goes on in my head.
I want time to move so fast
despite my fear of the future.
I want it to pass by quick
so I wouldn't have moments that would pause completely
and the pain would linger on and on and
it would hurts so much continuously
and I'm frozen in this moment
and time isn't moving
and I can't go on
and my legs won't twitch and my heart won't beat
and I'm just stuck in this moment of complete terror and hurt and
i           don't            know          what         to                      
                                                                                do

You painted onto her eyes
The sweet poetic words of your cold embrace
Letting the punctuation marks run down her cheeks
In the form of saturated tears and soiled mascara
Every alphabet you left behind
Ever tear you refused to wipe away with your thumbs,
She used to form words of love and remorse-
Statements of a battle lost and a broken heart.