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Dec 2019 · 346
Constricted
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
A flurry of coloured bags
Lying carelessly in the doorway
The happy ones congregate in the grass
They laugh and they dance
Because they can

A silence of turning pages
Throat constricted too tight to eat
The other ones congregate in the shade
Feeling out of place there
Because they can’t.
written back in year 10 one lunch time when i felt particularly left out
Dec 2019 · 437
The Art of Drowning
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
Black & white
Fading, fading
Writing on the wall
Telling this to end
Where am i?
Fading, fading
Blurring round the edges
Far beyond help

Out of reach
Fading, fading
Never feeling good
(Why am I still here?)
Where are you?
Fading, fading
No longer caring
Nobody does.
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
Home alone for twenty minutes
Taking apart stationary
No pressure,
just a clean swipe
It’s sickeningly easy

Simply crossing a barrier
That was formerly invisible
At 13 years old
She says
“I would never do that”

It isn’t a happy release
It doesn’t make her feel good
Nor is it feeling
Anything but numb
It’s the hurting that she values

Little red dotted lines
Like ink on printer paper saying
‘Cut here’
With kiddie scissors
Staining loo roll and tissues

It’s all some sick damnation
From herself to herself
Why do you
Look like this
She can’t stand the sight of you
!Trigger warning for self harm!
Dec 2019 · 420
Bluebells
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
The rows of bluebells
Will still be there next spring
Urging you to get better

You were still there to pick them
And lay them on her casket
You were still there to watch
The years’ dance trickle by

She may have withered with
The bluebells that sad spring
But you’ll be there to see them
Come again
And again

You can blossom with them every spring
My dear,
You’re still alive
Dec 2019 · 198
Pulse
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
You probably stood outside the door at CAMHS on rainy days
Bought 2 for 1 cookie deals at Morrison’s
You probably slotted your crap Sony earphones in on your way down
And looked down at the docs on your feet

There was a pulse in your wrist and under your chin
Evidence that your heart was beating
Your nerves were sending messages around the paths
Move your muscles, blink your eyes

You were a miracle just like everyone else
Hair tickling and chest rising and falling and fingers tapping
And nose sniffing and knees knocking and nails scratching
Living, breathing
Alive, alive
Until you weren’t.
rest in peace, dear pauline
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
At a point I want to hold your hand
I want us to be together, one
Then my feelings change and twist around
Afraid this battle cannot be won

If you touch me I would like to scream
I promise this isn’t your fault
I cannot feel the same as you
So lock me in some vault

This pretty picture, lovely in my head
I can’t act it out to reality
I don’t want you near me, let me free
There’s something wrong with me

You’re a sweet and lovely guy as it goes
I’m sorry I’m your pick
But I can’t continue anymore
I’m starting to feel sick.
my thoughts when ending my first relationship due to feeling...like this.
Dec 2019 · 259
September Has Come
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
The hydrangeas are starting to die now
The clouds are filling with rain
The kids have new-school anxiety
And we’re all filling with pain

The novelty is starting to die now
I’m already tired of faces
The leaves are falling from branches
And I’m already out of aces.
blues early in the school year.
Dec 2019 · 279
In The Absence of Light
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
Let the hair fall over your face
Don’t speak, they won’t reply
It feels like you’ve been replaced
Try and let the days pass by

If you were to fall they wouldn’t see
You miss how they used to care
It’s not the way it used to be
A simple smile by now is rare

And in your head there’s only black
So tired of make believe
If you smile, they won’t smile back
Why don’t you just leave?

You’ll never be the way they are
Their level is just too hard
Just try and reach that social bar
And keep your feelings jarred
on feeling alone in crowds and out of place among friends. written when i was 15.
Dec 2019 · 482
Grey&Blue Days
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
A dose of 30 paracetamol
And lithium to help keep sane
You lie in a bed with drips
Vomiting out your pain

The veins on your arm stick out
Blue against dark red scars
There are bags under your eyes
Black like a sky of stars

I hold on to your thin arms
And I hope it doesn't hurt
"Don't hurt yourself again"
But my words are lost in your shirt

You're home sometimes, or not
A long, long stay away
I miss you when you're gone
And you missed my birthday.
Dec 2019 · 975
Facts & Statistics
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
50 red lines
Etched and sketched across
The canvas in which you live
That was what you left
On the day you said
You’d stop

800 calories
Brittle nails and
An iron deficiency
That was what you left
On the day you chose
Recovery
reflections from the other side of anorexia
Dec 2019 · 218
Hazy
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
It was a Monday
Late afternoon
It was a grey day
Or perhaps it was sunny

It's been a while now
Three whole years
It's no time at all
How very funny

I remember your smile
How did it look?
You were older than me
Am I older than you?

I've become different
Much the same
Still trying to realise
You're not here too?

Four, five o'clock
Suddenly - bam
You're no longer real
Neither am I

Living in a daze
Lights too bright
Fall through the clouds
Now wave goodbye
Written in early 2016. Some thoughts on the day my sister died.
Dec 2019 · 293
Death is a Time Vortex
Alice Swatridge Dec 2019
Looping and looping
A single day-dream
She’s trapped in between
The light where she cried

She eats the same cereal
Every single morning
Not a single morning
Since the day she died

I keep on walking
Staggering on the roads
I keep on the go
Leaving her behind

She likes the same bands
She wears the same clothes
The same thing she loathes
Since the day she died

This age is temporary
Changes every month
Another status done
Another band new sight

Stuck in a phase of life
She can’t advance at all
Stuck at a single fall
Since the day she died.
This is a poem I wrote in November of 2016 about the death of my older sister. It depicts the way that the dead stay exactly the way they were when they died whilst the living keep changing. In it I contrast the stagnant state of my dead sister with my own live one.

— The End —