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Rapunzoll Oct 2015
his darkness became
tainted by my red

i burst like the sunrise
on the canvas of his skin,
raw and hot, red, red, red

i set flame to the somber
blues we'd once painted
our skin deep with.

kissing the echoes of
our past, but always
pulling away too soon.

i was too red, too vibrant.

he didn't like the taste
i left on his tongue
it was bitter like him,
it stung of the past he'd
tried to bury on my lips

my skin would ash
but he'd miss the flames.
my pulse would gallop
and intrude like
summer into his veins.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Nov 2015
i swirl in van gogh.
i am charcoal stains
on blue,
a smile of barbed wire
for the painter,
i am mona lisa, true.

monet, he paints me
calm waters,
water lilies floating
in solitude,
he doesn't see
the fire sprouting
in my veins.

picasso cannot stain
my heart with colour,
magritte cannot
create a masterpiece
out of my eyes.

to be immortalized
i beg in pink
lick the brush
and paint myself
alive.

end my days
in escher,
sketch myself
out of the stairway,
into the globe.

throw myself
at deaths eye,
kiss the canvas
rotten, ******,
*pretty.
© copyright
Rapunzoll May 2015
I wonder if like a storm you are
unaware of the damage you inflict.
Flooding these walls with screams,
shattering the fragility of our home.

I assume you are too caught up
within your own struggles to break free.
The wrath of your thoughts and those
calculating fingers rake your flesh.

Etching violent artistry's to your soulless
voids. Little needles which pin-***** at
the dark corners of your mind; awakening
the dormant cruelty sheltered within.

It is only through the cusp of night that
apologies emerge as you feign delicacy.
Your liquid skies fade to hellish hues as
you tell me not to lust after hurricanes.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Aug 2015
There are parts of me that
lay unrested - they are ghosts
in hallways, they are smoke
suffocating in locked rooms.

Sometimes I can feel
myself fading and it takes
all I have to pull myself
back from the abyss.

I'm walking on ice, yet
to find a stable foothold in
life seems unprecedented.

I still haven't learnt when
my hands began writing
rather than shaking.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Oct 2016
my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.
© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

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my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)
Rapunzoll Mar 2017
mother cried
because she was beautiful
her daughter,
the placid girl.

she cried,
because the men wanted her,
yet could not love her.

as millions plucked
flowers for their beauty,
then threw them to pavements.

they touched her,
because she was beautiful.
they defiled her.

they ripped the petals
from her throat,
and left her to wither,

a rose on the sidewalk.
© copyright

Just have a lot of anger inside me
Rapunzoll Jun 2018
i'm a bad person because
i cannot love you as you deserve to be loved
i used to write about anonymous men
who thunder through this world,
leaving cracks in the sky
to the women that love them.
but here i am now,
i am just as heinous as the clouds that
block the sun when the earth needs it most.

i have lost my ability to tiptoe
over my anger.
when i'm sad i don't know myself
or you anymore.
my depression makes me see
those who love me as the enemy,
i'm fighting the people who try
to help me,
sometimes i wish they'd see me
as a lost cause.
they're all just trying to
get me out of the smoke so
i can see properly,
but it's too deep into my lungs now,
they're charred by the ash.

you said you wished we could,
i quote: "just be happy"
and i'm apologizing again
because it's always my fault.
i wonder if abusive people know
they are abusive?

i am bad for knowing that i spew
toxicity on everything we grow.
i am bad for not stopping myself,
because my emotions control me as though
i'm merely chemical mass in my head,
not a soul, or a person who
wants to be better.

i'm so sorry, i can't be the good person,
i shouldn't make excuses,
because somewhere under all the illness
i am there.
the more i cry apologies,
the more meaningless they become,
until i send you away by
wanting you closer.
Rapunzoll May 2016
they make goodbyes
sound easy
when they're at your door
late at night
and they scream your
name like a warning
from the bottom
of the staircase
you leave them,
until apologies make
your tongue as raw as
saw-dust
those nameless boys
the one's with
smoky breath,
they write your name
to the skies
constellate it to their
forefingers and cross it
over their forehead
like a baptism
those boys with hands
that eat like worms
at the dying heart
of your feelings
no, they don't love you
only death can
love you,
nameless girl
with the
countless faces.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Apr 2016
it's nights like this, when we tangle
together like weeds in a seabed of lust
i beg for once, your eyes instead
of your mouth, would confess
how you felt for me.
your lips grow like ivy along the grey
mortar of my spine, your fingers write how
much they don't love me all over my body
and tiny birds take flight from my breath
to be together, is to be apart
when i am with you every word is a mistake,
we press our lips together
harder than we want to press
them against each others mouths
i keep tripping over apologies
and you just want someone who
is steady on their feet
i once knew a boy who told me
he wasn't an artist, but painted
the shores on my cheeks
when he spoke, even the trees leaned
in to hear his beautiful lies
© copyright
Rapunzoll Jul 2016
i do not love you
words are not in abundance
i am not drawn to you
like birds migrating to
warmer heavens
i felt something brief,
my breath was caught
by love's noose,
but stranger things happen,
i do not love you,
because to love you
would be to become you,
to capsize like a boat,
submerging into red seas,
i do not love in small measures,
to do so would be worse
than blasphemy,
i feel for you,
but i do not love you,
i do not search for your
face in crowds,
i do not love in honesty,
only lies pounding
hoofs on loves ground.
i cannot love you,
because the taste of it is
strange in my mouth,
an unwanted flavour,
like sand and dust,
in the midst of something
that should be sweet.
i do not love you,
or i cannot love at all.
© copyright

I don't really like anything I've written lately but I've told myself if I keep thinking negatively then I'll never write anything at all. So here we go.


14/07/16 god this is awful why did i post it
Rapunzoll Feb 2019
that you saw every part of me
fall apart like the house we live in.
i watched you freeze over
like a lake in winter,
when i asked
why my stuff was left packed
by the door.

sometimes i feel like a kid
running towards the cars,
without looking twice,
because you forgot to tell me i need
to look both ways.

i wish i knew then i shouldn't have to beg
to be treated like i'm wanted.
i need not reach for a hand
that slaps mine away,
or pulls apart like the sea from a shore
which begs to kissed.

i think you forgot love isn't all beautiful,
it's waking up to your stinking breath in the morning
and kissing you,
it's being in an multiple choice exam
but the answer i always circle is you.
it's being in the ring and
choosing not to throw the punches
despite the raw screaming,
and the crowd cheering.

i still catch a breath,
when i think how ****** up it was that
you drove me to see an old friend
you hadn't seen in years
and joked about our future like there was one,
when you were planning
on ending it the same weekend.

i still remember your stares,
the pebbles on the beach,
the kids ride you made me sit on with you
because you thought it would be scary
but the only scary thing was
you telling me you loved me,
when you hated me.

nowadays i get so angry when i hear
other people debate what love is,
when i've known and i've lost.
but i'm so ******* glad you never read
any of my poetry.
because that will be just another thing
you don't understand,
alongside what love is.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Jul 2016
tell me
why private thoughts
become so loud and violent
upon our faces that
they peel the layers of skin,
and our own form of sun,
burns us alive inside.
i waited patiently for your breath
like hot summer nights,
a whisper of a wind, a secret
tantalizing, lost in lulls of sleep
and i'm restless in bed,
sheets suffocate me with the
lies of your body, and
ghosts are more familiar
than your scent.
tell me, i screamed it with my
eyes as you slept.
i once held your palm and
felt your fingers slip,
did they reach for hers
instead?
© copyright

poem on adultery
still going through writers block. posting stuff i wrote a few months back and forgot about.
Rapunzoll Mar 2016
your absence is
like the aftermath
of the storm

i'm left to wonder
whether i prefer
the desperate
insanity you blew
into my life

or the deadly
silence.
At least I know where I stand in a storm.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Aug 2015
Kiss me where it hurts,
taste the indefinite, there
is something beautiful
in the moments that will
fade without warning.

I've been missing the part
of you that craves only me,
I'm a finely wrapped gift on
your door  — unravel me,
unravel me
, I'll buy you more.

You desire the mystery,
feeding the elusive hand
that beckons you — there
are layers to my story but
you only skim the surface.

My ego is a divine thing,
you dress it well, embellish
it with swift strokes, and
pause with fascination.

There are a million ways
to tell me I look good in red
— but I like your way best.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Aug 2017
sometimes alcohol makes my
stomach churn with its lies.
the more i take, the less i feel.

maybe there are addictions worse
than addiction to skin.
i can't understand why you
make me feel so empty
so my glass is always full.

i'm scared of kissing you sober,
i've never kissed a man sober.
i tell you i love you,
hoping you'll blame my
***** veins.

i don't trust smiles that
hide the teeth,
but i'm here now,
cradled in his palms,
tasting his flesh.
i once thought his eyes
reminded me of oceans,
now i realize they remind me
of sharks.

he looks like someone that
could **** me,
that's just my type.
i forget to say no.
the last man i loved put his
fingers inside my mouth
and ripped my tongue out.
my body doesn't know
how to say no anymore.

last time,
this is the last time,
oh i said that last time.

i fell too deep into the rabbit hole,
like alice in wonderland,
except alice is the one
who fell in love with the mad hatter,
and alice is the one
who lost her head.

it's getting darker,
and i'm afraid.
i can't stay, my dear,
i can't stay.
the pen will only run out
and i'll be awake all night
if i don't empty
it of this ink.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Aug 2015
He's the dagger
twisted in my gut,
all the pretty words
dolled up with a
smile that is anything
but pure or true.

He's a spicy treat,
when all I'm looking for
is something sweet.

Perhaps it's wrong of
me, to search for love
in eyes that wander so
far I have to make
maps of their journey.

He has me falling
from the tallest crevices
with promises to catch
me with arms that are
already holding another.

He's a lost cause,
a candle blown out,
the stolen kiss that
was never returned.

But I'd bet all my
money on him within
a heartbeat if he said
he felt even a mere
shadow of what I did.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Apr 2015
He loved with the cruelty of nature
growing like ivy on my heart;
I'd cut him away but he'd only return

He nestled in my branches
making a home out of my rotting shell,
forgetting home is where the heart is

He said "destruction was a form of beauty"
So he pretended to be reborn a hurricane
Firing open doors better left closed in his wake

At times, it was better to hide from him
Wait out the storm and pretend
everything was perfectly alright

Then when it was all over
He'd kiss my wounds,
grow flowers from my dying veins

But not so long after they would wilt
because even the sweetest of things
couldn't survive within our own toxicity.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Sep 2014
Poetry erupts from my tongue
A mountain of words
Too tall for me to climb
The air is filling my lungs
And I'm inhaling the beauty
Of symphonies and metaphors
Stirring memories together
Of a firm chest and rhythmic heartbeat
Strong, unruly, erratic
Like my feelings for you

It's a feeling that hits forcefully
A tsunami, flooding my chest
The butterflies are set free again
Wings flutter wildly, a frenzied panic
A harsh wind knocks me to the ground
Here, my glass heart finally shatters
A million shards that cut like knifes
Leaving wounds only you could heal
I am a cascade of emotions
I think I'm in love again.
© copyright
Rapunzoll Jul 2016
it's the emotional
strip-tease,
the tingling,
depressions hand
on your thighs,
his skin is soothing
enough but his
nails curve red moons
into those pretty
little girl tights.
they ******* so well,
anxieties got a
mean eye,
for the girls with
insecurities,
they're the most fun,
swallowing back
their screams, saving
them for the
bedroom at night.
you find them in
the morning teasing
the pill bottle,
they got a will to live
stuck in their throat.
doctors say there's a
heartbeat but
no heart.
all their red dresses
over the floor,
the first of many
warning signs,
red dresses to funerals,
red dresses to slide
down the underbelly
of dissatisfaction.
they sleep without love,
exhaling demons on
the balcony, until
they burn like stubs
in their eyes.
© copyright

i was kind of thinking of mental health as these abusive figures in a girls life. red is often said to be the angry/passionate colour, i was thinking about a girl wearing it a lot as a warning sign, a sort of cry for help, that keeps getting misinterpreted and leading to more abuse.
Rapunzoll May 2015
Love me so deeply it hurts
I want raw love,
Love that festers like an open wound
if left untreated

Crave me like a smoker
who can't quit their bad habits
I'll be your nicotine
If you keep coming back for more

Touch me like I'm the masterpiece
of the art museum
They tell you not to touch
but you can't resist

Experience me like a joy ride
a rare kind of high
Let our love kindle like a flame
don't let it blow out
© copyright

— The End —