Mar 7 Rachel Birdsong
the universe's tendency to fall apart,
but you are my universe i guess it makes sense.
i wish the universe would bring us back together
  Mar 7 Rachel Birdsong
my beloved, i miss you.
i miss our time spent together,
miss the life you brought into my spirit.
don’t you miss how thin you were?
i told you that you didn’t want food—
carbs are bad, remember?—
and you were just so beautiful.
the etched lines of your ribs and collarbone,
carefully defined like charcoal on a watercolor painting.
don’t you miss our late-night chats?
you told me everything you hated about yourself
and i just held you as you crumbled.
i’m sorry i couldn’t bring myself to console you but
your pain was just so beautiful...
i couldn’t tear myself away.
how can you not miss our alone time?
your isolation always kept me company—
until that one day.
you yelled at me,
shouted obscenities at me until you were crying,
but different tears than the ones you shared with me
late at night.
you relapsed into our old relationship,
again and again,
until that one day.
i heard you singing in the shower
for the first time since you were ten years old,
heard you open a bag of chips, eat the whole **** bag,
saw your mother embrace you while
tears fell down her face.
i saw you drive away with
that boy,
the one who kisses your scars
and tells you your past is a tragic beauty.
i could’ve saved you.
don’t tell me you saved yourself.
we could’ve been just so beautiful.

                                                   forever yours,
                                                          ­  me<3
she could be anyone
a neutron star--
a product of something as magnificent as
a supernova explosion

a diamond in the ruff--
polished clean with pearls for a smile

an angel in the flesh--
that fell gracefully into your lap
and washed your sins white

but as long as she
giggles at your mediocre jokes
(the ones only i used to understand)
tangles her legs with yours
(you always craved more of my skin)
and leaves bite marks on your neck
(do you remember that shade of purple?)

she will forever be my satan
the devil
who ripped down my blue sky
and painted
i don’t want you to know me

i want to walk past you on the street
raise my eyebrow and look at you
while we pass under the streetlight
and swing my hips
so that you turn around
and turn back to your friends
to whisper about me

i want our shoulders to accidentally touch
and i want you to feel your skin tingle
beneath the shirt you wore
--the one that is tight on your muscles--
hoping you would see me

i want you to wait for me by door frames
to walk me to class
and live for the moments i giggle at you

i want you to find my fears
and ache to protect me from them

i want our lips to touch
and i want yours to part
and breathe in
because you couldn’t have imagined
a first kiss
like that

i want you to be unable to stop thinking about me
keep my name on your tongue all day
until you dial my number
and call to talk to me

i don’t want you to know me
because i want you to fall in love with me
all over again
  Feb 12 Rachel Birdsong
you will never be forgotten.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.
Rachel Birdsong Aug 2017
leave me on the roadside
to walk on tumbleweeds
and sleep on dustclouds

away from the fingers that
pull open my jaw
to see what sin
last rolled off my dry tongue

away from lights
held against my skin to
confirm that my blood runs
red blue
like theirs

away from park benches
with my name
scratched in their wood
and my blood smeared
on the concrete sidewalk
leading to them

away from megaphone voices
even when your head is between
your sweaty palms
and bent knees
still find a way to scream their
discontent at the way
you buttered your toast that morning

leave me on the roadside
i will be lost and alone
but i will have only
my scars
my skin
and eyes following that ****** yellow line.
Rachel Birdsong May 2017
there is a single scratch
on the waxy hardwood floor
from where she broke
one night in august.

a single, jagged line
where her feet tripped on the broken frames
that held fleeting moments
where her chin hit the ground
because her knees already had
where her hands couldn’t let go of her own lungs
to catch herself in time

its submerged now
in a puddle of crimson tears
and surrounded by
shreds of her white cotton sweater
with the ink stain on the cusp

you see
she was trying to fly
but her shoe laces had grown to vines
that crawled up the sides of houses
and into the drainpipes beneath the city

she wanted to dance on cloudy pillow tops
sing the lullabies her mother whispered into her dreams
pull sunbeams through her fingers and tie them into her braids

she hadn’t learned
skies rest on the ground
clouds need valleys to cry on
the earth must turn for the sun to rise
to fly you must have the floor to leave.
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