Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jess Hays Apr 2017
This town is nothing like the one holding you
Even the lampposts on the sidewalk are a different hue
And neither are we the same.
Silent talks and loosely, yet thoroughly, understood stories
What could ever have broken us then?
Oh, what a simpler time... three weeks ago
Now, these beautiful corn fields are lost on my thoughts
"If satellites were broken, where would you go?"
We promised it would be okay
But... Can't you feel the way this distance breaks?
Everything is different and we are no exception, love.
All we have became are satellites..
This distance is the interference.
Jess Hays Feb 2017
Secrets are demons that shadow every thought
When the person who doesn't know is oblivious...
When they're with the one who has become everything...
Secrets are stitches that seal your desire shut.
There is no approach to let them in to such a fear...
There is only fear and second-guessing when they, to you, are close
Secrets are the brutal shortcoming of your courage.
Because there is so much you can hold back
Because there is so much damage to be done if you let it out.
Secrets are demons.
Jess Hays Feb 2017
All this time, I thought home was back in my hometown
The house where I drew on the walls
The streets I'd play on and fall.
But, being this close to leaving, I know that is not my home.
It's my safe haven, my childhood.
But my parents and my brother...
That's what I'm dreading to leave.
I don't want to be somewhere starting off alone.
I want to stay with these three parts of my heart
Because if home is where the heart is
Then how can I live anywhere but here?
Jess Hays Feb 2017
I cut my hair.
I laugh louder.
I'm changing... Well, trying.
And you're pulling me back into your gravity
Exactly what I've been waiting, hoping you'd do
But I know this is no good
We're a poison together, that's the only way we mix
You'll be the death of me.
Don't let me keep wanting to want you.
Jess Hays Feb 2017
Visually clear, but metaphorically impossible.
Half of the explanation, why is it left out?
Minds don't have voice boxes...
We never expand. Rarely explain.
Broken into shards that so often cut through and bury themselves
They become a morbid and sick burden.
And the weight is a constant fluctuation.
Words are heard, they are felt, but they are not seen...
Neither with our eyes nor by our mind.
Words are mistakes, while thoughts are profound.
But we only speak jumbled letters...
We never speak our mind.
Jess Hays Feb 2017
Have you ever felt like you deserved a thank you?
Or an apology?
Or just anything that could explain what happened?
Because I have.
There was a boy who came and sat alone everyday at lunch. I saw it and I thought "That is not right. He must come sit with us!"
Then, hell broke out between her and I... It was fixed, but honestly it wasn't. I can't sit at my table anymore because I reached out to that green eyed-blonde haired kid... I sat right next to him and I began to care about him. He met my dad. I wanted it to go somewhere.
Little did I know what his one-track mind wanted.
Little was I able to comprehend how small he saw me along the long list of girls wearing my shoes.
This is all he does, this is what they warned me of.
He's the reason I sneak my food into these walls covered in books and constant shushing.
Because he sits at the table I invited him to.
He made me feel ignorant and self-centered when really I was made his pawn.
He wanted me because he has had everyone else and couldn't have someone walking the halls who wasn't on that list of his.
He sits at my table. He sits with my friends.
But I can't stand to make eye contact with him. I'm still trying to convince him I'm over what has happened.
It's as if I'm trying to survive in this agonizing pit of never-ending drama, the perpetual unraveling of lies, actions that are caught before they are over, apologies that are screamed because they are full of remorse they were caught.
He sits at my table, right where he used to hold my hand while sneaking another in the chair beside him.
He sits at my table, and he talks to all my friends.
And he hurts me daily without any remorse, but every intent.
Jess Hays Jan 2017
I wanted it so bad
But now i just want to go home.
This town is killing me.
Next page