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Rhianna Powell Aug 2020
Normal people don’t stick their fingers where it hurts, only people who want you to hurt do that. But me, no, I don’t follow the rules. I am always shoving sharp objects into my wounds. I like to feel it all.

Why increase the pain that already exists, you may ask?

Pain is a type of pleasure. If suffering is what I have, suffering is what I shall feel.

Does pain have a reason? Must I increase my own suffering because I am already suffering? Simply, yes. I am alive and I am breathing and I will suffer while I do it all. It reminds me of the things I have failed at, and the things I do not want to do again. So yes, I will continue to push the knife into the open wound on my arm, I will drag the blade across my chest, I will make that rip bigger, I will not stitch it up and I will let it bleed. To recover is to have known pain fully, and only when you know it fully will you ever truly heal.
Rhianna Powell Sep 2019
I often wonder if I am not being clear when I speak. Maybe I am talking in a way others do not understand. Maybe it is that no actually means yes and that I am talking backwards. Maybe walking away means that I want you to stay. I don't really know. Everything is so backWARDS. 2017- THANKS BUT NO THANKS. NO ONE SAYS WHAT THEY MEAN AND NO ONE DOES WHAT ALIGNS WITH WHAT THEY FEEL AND I AM NOT SURE THAT I CAN BE A PART OF IT ANYMORE. I AM STILL WONDERING IF YOU WILL CHANGE YOUR MIND AND IM NOT DOING IT TO **** YOU OFF BUT I MISS YOU AND ID LIKE TO SEE YOU AND I THINK ABOUT KISSING SOMEONE ELSE AND I GET SICK WHEN I MOVE TO DO IT AND MAYBE THAT MEANS NOTHING BUT NOT ENOUGH TIME HAS PASSED
Rhianna Powell Sep 2019
and if you cant love
me ill still love you
but from a distance
because i matter too
Rhianna Powell Dec 2017
my knees itch
i want to scrape them across the cement
only i may be able to,
with the tug of your hands
soft and gentle against my palm

i want to feel pain
i want to see the blood rushing
from my cracked skin
rip my body apart
the way you do
with all your words

hit me
tear out my hair
bruise my arms the way
i know you can

this body heals
or it dies
but your lips and
your hands
are stuck in my head
swirling around
pressing against my eyes
“i think i have nightmares
because i am lonely”

now i cant sleep
and you have your drugs
the images at night
haunting me

you leaving, stuck on repeat
Rhianna Powell Dec 2017
I still think about you every Tuesday and Thursday.
I imagine running into you on the cemented walk I trek to class. I imagine looking up and seeing you trying to get away from me. I’ve never once seen you here on Tuesday or Thursday, but I am still thinking of you.

I still think of you in the shower. I can feel your arms holding on to my slippery body. I feel your hands in my hair as the luke-warm water trickles over my scalp. It find comfort in the absence of your touch, but it is brief, and it is never enough.

I still think of you when I am at the beach. I swim and I swim until maybe I absorb enough salt to forget the night you wished for me on that star. I see your face under the sea and I can feel your warmth laying next to me.

I think of all of the mistakes I’ve made. I think about what lead me here. I think maybe you ruined me before we kissed. I was looking for you in all of the lips I met. Now here I am still searching and yearning. I thought If I felt something, anything it would be enough to put out the fire. Maybe I will drink myself to death, but I know that when I see the man standing in front of me it’ll be your angry voice that pulls me back.

I am wondering how many images of myself there are. Thanks to you, and myself, I am certain there are plenty. They will pick which one they are most interested in, and that is the one they will run with. Have I played the victim poorly? Maybe I should have stayed home. I know that these things subside, but I have been digging for so long, I have dug so deep.

I am trying to think but the pain in my skull radiates into my teeth. Breathe in, breathe out- pain. Maybe it will stay, maybe I will never sleep. I see the eyes in my restless dreams. They haunt me through the scenes. I never know when the light will return to me. Maybe it is a game that they wanted to play on me. Let’s get her to move 10 hours away. Let’s ruin her. Maybe she isn’t ruined yet.

I wonder what would they think if I went home. Maybe I’ll drop, maybe I’ll lose my phone. Would they feel guilty for hurting the girl who only wanted to find a new home? I cannot leave, but I want to. I wish I did not have to face them again. Tomorrow it will come, and I will have to feel the anger under their skin. I will see the disappointment in their faces. I will try and try and it will never be enough.

In a series of events, I found myself sober, on the beach. The sky was high and the stars bright. We kissed and kissed and I laughed all night. He told me stories of his past lovers, and I knew they did not compare. I knew I was the one. I ran from him, laughing, and he ran after me, like a good boy. I felt his arms around my waist and I smiled. I made a wish on every star that twinkled in the sky. We searched for the dippers. I was sober and I was happy.

Again, I found myself on the beach, more drunk than I had ever been. I went out and I was bad. I kissed all of his friends. I made a mess of myself and I made a mess of my head. My heart is gone and I have been looking for it since then. I have traveled around the beds of others, looking for something like my long lost lover. His eyes were inviting, now I fear them. His voice loving, abrasive at the ends. I lost my lover, and I’m not quite sure how. I am looking for my heart but it is nowhere to be found. I will go to the sound and look again. I’m high as a kite and I can’t remember how this began.

The sun rises and sets, and I am trying my best. Passive aggressive is all I get. If I had the medication, I could be as cruel as him. Yet he is winning and I am lying on my back. I look to the sky without a cloud in sight and I hope to God that this feeling will subside. I’ve never been one to linger so long, but it feels like eternity since I’ve laid in between your sheets. I should have kissed you again before I left, maybe I could have changed your mind.

How does one become more interesting? I’ve spent my entire life being interesting and it wasn’t enough for a boy like you. An angry man who doesn’t know anything but mad. I was wondering if you would like to try something else. I think you did and it must have tasted bad because you ran at the next opportunity. Now I am mocked in the back seat of a broken car. I am laughed at because I am the stupid one. How silly it was for me to think that  a boy who looked like you could feel for a girl that was me.

Maybe one day you will remember to look for me on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s and maybe I’ll stay the night in someone else’s bed.
Rhianna Powell Nov 2017
And I will tell my friends that I will continue doing what I do for them simply because I love them. And the sun crawls between the leaves on the trees, and drips down the hanging moss, flooding the ground my feet walk on. I will move through the puddles of light that form around my toes and seep into the concrete. I will walk and walk lightly on the hard ground and ignore the pain screaming into my ears. I will continue on and I will tell myself that I will stop doing what I am doing for you, simply because I love you.
Rhianna Powell Nov 2017
December 25

November 12
“There goes the love of my life.”

October 16
Leaving: the process begins

September 15
Falling for the heartless

August 23
First time

July 22

I should have stayed in June.
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