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Dec 2013
This block that’s been haunting me
I finally know what it is
It’s not that my thoughts have ever ceased to exist
(no matter how hard I wish)
My truth
Has never been poetic.
My 4 shots of honesty
Are tucked under unclean bed-sheets
Collecting dust
Because I haven’t found a soul
With good enough reason to trust

I work with formulated brushstrokes
My polished softer madness
Because I’ve been told that
This much eye contact makes you
Uncomfortable
That sometimes
I say the things
that you didn't
want to (or know how)
to hear
not sweet enough
for you to swallow
So shove it down my throat
with a gleam in your eye
you gloat
like you actually think
you’ve solved my mystery

I
have covered up
every last shadow
of sincerity
every vicious glimmer
of your fingerprints
marring the fabric
of my skin
my canvas
my natural form
is your sin

I shudder to think
That I’m waiting
For my censored text to be read
Waiting for repercussions
Of wounds that I’ve already bled
My truth
Is that I blurred through the boundaries
Between memories and lies
That I often can’t remember
What I made up and why
there was so much to
cover up
with false nostalgia

my heartache
is
that there’s no logic behind that
no reason to
forget how to feel
to go three days
with my eyes glazed
until I can grasp on
to what's real
a patched up framework of sane
and I want to see blood
to feel purpose for pain

Every time my tremors
Shake in new directions
I want to cry because
That’s just one step further away
from perfection
Playing pretend
Was just imagination
until it was dysfunction
and I set fire to my lungs
Because no matter what
I was never good enough

I choke on my breath
And the burn of swallowed blood
too warm
out of place
like a breeze to the bone
Dripping past the place that
Your name once called home
I still visit
The grave of a legend
In my body
So heavy with the weight
Of lives I never lived

It was never like
The words I so hopefully drowned in
The promises that
my fears were unfounded
That no one could really
Be alone
Not like this
Not like
Being left to remember your kiss
Not like
Nail marks in the palms of clenched fists
Not like fading in and out of dreams
Asking myself
Which reality is this?
Untangling from cold sweats
With the ringing in my ears
Reminding me ruthlessly
That god ****** I’m still here
And you’re gone

I hate that “I miss you”
Is mistaken for cliché
But it’s my truth
It’s my indescribable
My engulfing
My around every corner
Over and over
Your absence impacts like a train
stolen months
dripping in honey sweet
hope
we were my first us
it's hard to find salvation
when your
foundation gives up

My anger
Is sharp breaths
It tastes like
***** coming out my nose
Splashing against my skin
It burns a little like
Bee stings
Coming up my throat
And a whole lot less
Than the loneliness

That vacant isolation
That booms so stubborn
Trying to heal
from numb
Reminding me that
Summer by summer
I become something
That I wont
be willing to save.
At this point
I'm not sure what I crave.
it feels like thunder
on the horizon
of my intangible
you are so much more
than a metaphor
for how perspective
is flammable
but my story
was never about you

birthed from ashes
I am
your favourite taboo
unfinished work
Hana Gabrielle
Written by
Hana Gabrielle
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