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Imagine me,
The self professed soldier,
Clinging onto your words,
Waiting patiently,
For the kind ones.
They’re fewer and further between,
Than the nights I sleep right through.
And still I do,
Wait again, and again,
For you to love me out loud,
Like I know you do in secret.
Imagine me,
With my insistent independence,
Needing you more than water,
I’m a soldier walking into battle,
With no armour,
Just the last time you called me gorgeous,
Worn over my shoulders like chain mail.
Love makes you feel invincible, even when it’s all in your head
I’m in need,
of a savior.
Just something,
to pull me tight,
and tell me,
don’t go,
I need you.
But life,
isn’t the movies.
You’re the one,
who told me,
that line.
I kinda sorta,
always thought,
life was ironic,
the way it,
worked out.
How I’d say stop,
and the sign,
well it would,
yell at me,
to go.
Swallow the lump,
turn around,
but no,
not this time,
I gotta,
I’m going to,
I’m sorry,
I’m going home,
to the fields of daffodils,
and dandelions,
that we make wishes on.
Even if,
they may,
or may not,
come true.
what’s fun.
Life will never,
be the movies,
but it’s certainly,
a song.
is 3d
The rusted mailbox
creaks as it’s pried open,
dented door dislodging.
Two yellow balloons
tethered to its post
and bobbing in the wind,
stark color against a slate sky.
The bomp bomp of the balloons barely
heard over the wind’s whistles.

Empty inside.
It’s Sunday
after all. Too easy for you to forget
the day when days
amalgamate into one
long moment. Stuck in an
everlasting condition,
waiting for the day
when your mind
at last
is quiet.

A quiet
that comes when your hands
are busy. Too
distracted by tasks to
dwell on thoughts.
is 3d
In a bedroom in small-town Pennsylvania,
you’ll find an unmade bed,
a pile of clothes on the floor—
clean but not folded,
open drawers and dusty shelves,
a desk in the corner of the room
with pictures laid across it.

When I caught my first fish at six.
I held it at arm’s length by the fishing line
to avoid the slimy scales,
a frown on my face from being forced
to sit silently in the cold.

When my family went to Marco Island,
my sister and I, sifting sand for the best seashells
in our matching swimsuits and hats.
Mom and dad’s fights forgotten in our fun.

High school graduation
posing with my best friend since first grade,
diplomas in one hand and an extra cap held between us
because not everyone survived all four years.

Move-in day at college,
sitting on my raised bed with a grey comforter
and two decorative pillows the color of cotton candy.
Sweat on my brow from southern humidity
and moving furniture without the help of a father.

The pictures are merely snapshots
that lack the full story.

How I learned what it meant for love to fall apart
when I was eight years old.
My sister warned me before it happened,
told me what a divorce was.
I mistook her for joking until they called us upstairs.
Dad cried when they told us, but mom held her tears
until the day he left. The sounds of her cries
escaping from behind a closed door.
“This doesn’t mean we don’t love each other.”
But that’s exactly what it meant.

How I was taught by my father that love is conditional,
and I repeatedly needed to prove myself
through good grades and unquestioning obedience.
Forced to stay home to spend time with the family,
sitting wordlessly on the couch while he watched TV.
Made guilty for wanting to spend time with friends
because that somehow meant that I was a bad daughter.
It’s funny—I never asked myself if he was a good father.

If you look harder at the bedroom,
you’ll find journals filled with bitter words,
screws from disassembled pencil sharpeners, loose razors, and Aquaphor,
food wrappers stuffed in hidden places,
a closet brimming with junk and pairs of shoes,
evidence of a story untold. Until you.
Something has happened
In a clear blue sky
Lighting struck and
I'm triggered.

I have no control
A foreigner in my own skin
Betrayed by the very body I called
my own
My vices start to rear their heads
Happy, sadistic smiles on their faces
I recognize the shaking
The adrenaline from my veins
Displacing me from myself
As it slowly builds
Waiting impatiently
To erupt

I don't recognize who's in the mirror
That face,
those eyes
They're there,
but out of focus
Cool water calms me
From the sweat off my palms
Deep, slow breaths,
Happy places and counting
But the calm now won't come
My headphones have abandoned me
These limbs of mine shake uncontrollably
And food doesn't stay long in my belly.

It erupts.
And the world.
As i.
I for-
get to.
As my heart can't quite seem.
To keep it's beat.

cause the world is suddenly
Too Loud
the lights
Too Bright
the temperature
Too Cold
Everything's Too Much

And my brain crashes.

Not sure whose fault it is
Or why I'm like this
For I figure I’m just built
with faulty wiring, a brain overstimulated
And when this surge in current passes
I'll rise, exhausted,
Drenched from the
Take a
deep breath



Them again
Hooting and hollering
On the block
I can’t believe
I’m bothered by
Their confidence
It’s like they’re
Mocking me
Just for trying to exist
And they’re calling me a *****
Maybe I’m a *****

But I don’t like being in public
I don’t like being in public
Unless I’m making money
Or I’m spending money
Phia Sep 15
My existence
I’m sorry for all of the depressing writing. I’m not okay
m Sep 13
I need a break
From what, exactly?
A break from life,
A break from reality,
A break from spending every waking moment running
from something
from someone
from somewhere that might not even exist
Life is a dive
Hitting the ground is inevitable
Helpless against the pull of gravity
Just let me float for a second
Let me live in slow motion
Close my eyes and picture the ocean waves washing over me
Submerged in peace momentarily
Before I resurface under a storm lit sky
Chaos reigning in my mind
And continue to fall to my certain demise
Phia Sep 8
Suddenly you transformed
Into a broken mirror.
All of the ugly, fragmented shards
Of my soul
Staring right back at me.
Phia Sep 3
I stood in front of the mirror
Bottle in hand
The world as blurry as my feelings.
Someone please help me
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