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“What is this?” he runs his fingers across my spine “A new discovery!”
The mole on my back, it’s cancer probably, I say
He laughs, a milky one drunk on the night and my room
His eyes swallow me but not entirely
A bitter taste, probably my sickness, catches
In his throat. He coughs. I apologize, he
Doesn’t know what is really laying inside of me
“You’re beautiful” but his half-blind can’t see my whole
I am a giver, I tell him
He says he knows
The blanket between my headboard and the wall
Says he is too
A new trick I have never seen
Or thought of, it sits there being smashed like my insides
As he plunges into me
I cry out
It is lovely, he must know this
I never meant it like this, to come to you
Bruised and ready
All open mouths and compliments
Hair almost like mine, minus the color
He tells me he almost killed himself
I kiss his chest and say me too
There is something about pain that makes me want to
Eat it whole
I see it in you and I am hungry to take it away
Palm full of grief and I will hold it for you
Place it on my spine and carry it until my
Back snaps and I can no longer walk
I mean, this is the first time
I mean our first time and you
A pleasant surprise, I mean a pleasant
Song I have heard before but forgot about
You play loud through my speakers
And my heart can no longer be heard
I mean we are just two poets
Writing poetry with our bodies
I mean please don’t go in the morning
I mean, will you stay for coffee?
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
if i could separate the two of you
you from your body
pull you apart like bread
id peel your limbs away
dissect the two in class
head from the heart
no association

i would pull your limbs in all directions
i could love you whole
separately then
in portions, never all at once
you're too big for one bite

entire package, 100 yards and im still
running to the bus
getting away, or trying
but never far enough

and ill come to the thought
of someone else
and in the dark that follows
its you

ill pick you apart again
leaf off limb
leaf off limb
leaf off limb
until your limbs are barren
and i am freezing for you
trying to understand
trying

i have tried

still try ing: an action word, in the state of

in the dark

in the quiet


i call you when i need you

pounding at the front door of my mind is the words you spill and the silence you bring

i greet you with anger every single time

a soft one from the pit of my belly it lays inside of my intestines like a sore parasite eating my thoughts until i cant remember where they started

laying again standing alone with a smile on my face and we are on bad terms again

and i want to pull your mind away from your body

i want to appreciate them

                       separately
and all together
and all at once

it will hurt
to pull apart skin
it gushes
it oozes and it is a constant
reminder that i cannot figure it out

an infection. nasty        But you wont notice it when it goes away
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.
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