How can i forget
When i never even got to choose to forgive you for myself
I never had the chance to comprehend
Cuz you shoved your apologies down my throat
Everything I've ever forgiven you for was to save you,
It was not for myself
Well, I wont forgive you for that
It's not how forgivness works
Hi Jess nice to meet you or wait i have not no suprise there your just marks work friend i have never met thats braking up my family so i really hope your needs are met by my partner because clearly your husband isnt meeting your needs for you even though my daughter looses her dad maybe your husband can be her dad and i can go to the snow with him
what was it like when you left me behind?
with a bottle of jack clasped in your greedy palm,
did you ever look over your shoulder?
did you ever turn back?
independency never looked more like a cage
when you realize it came with
losing a childhood to a parent
dependent on *****
and lost in her liquor.
maturity is a sculpture that people
chip and mold to fit their own reality
when they forget that the
broken pieces surrounding the perfect sculpture
are really what maturity is made of.
when you left me behind
i reveled in my independency
and clutched my broken pieces in my hands,
glued them back together
and called it armor.
but i still wonder from time to time,
if you ever looked down to see your own
broken jack bottle
glass pieces by your feet,
because you finally remembered
that you left your daughter behind.
When did we lose our happiness?
Where did we all just drift apart?
How did our family turn to nothingness?
We used to play and laugh and dance
But now those times have turned to ash
And ash has turned to tears and fights
In this vortex it's only black
I can no longer see a light
I can no longer sleep at night
My father's name means
'one who doesn't mourn'.
But I have seen him
Grieving for his
Grim childhood, broken
Home, fading away of
His own father after
Prolonged sickness, his
widowed mother of
Twenty years and his
Four year old self.
Maybe sometimes your
Name isn't something
You are, but something
You should be.
fly far away and
leave this place
for the nest is on fire
the branches broken
and the tree in flames
i was born and raised
in a home of apocalypse.
and endless wars
have wounded me deeply.
abandoned, and ignored
by people who should have taught me
about the definition of love.
their actions shaped me into a person
who is so good at pretending,
for all to see that i grew up in
the name of love and affections,
when all i have ever witnessed
was hate and abomination.
why do you yell?
why do you say these horrible things
because you love me?
because i could never get anyone else to love me.
and i storm down the stairs and
crawl into my bed
covering my head
and i cry.
i cry waterfalls into rivers into lakes
while my mother strokes my hair
and i love her but i need her to leave
but i am scared of what will happen
if i am alone.
so i try to sleep, but i choke
everytime i lay down and each
morning i wake up with marks on my
breathing quickens as i remember
what happened the night before
and how i am too afraid to open my
i consider the window.
consider the faulty lock.
consider walking to His house at 2am.
he is the only one i can count on.
but i cannot worry my brother like that
and my mother would be distraught
i want fresh air
but i do not ever want to eat again.
the sight makes me sick.
I want to wander away from this forsaken house
to somewhere better.
but is the grass ever greener?
because at this moment it feels like every blade is
dried and dying.
feels like thunderstorms and rain clouds but not
the exciting kind.
the compressing kind
the depressing kind.
the kind that makes you want to jump off a ******* bridge
but the water's freezing.
the kind that provokes earthquakes.
i don't even know what kind means anymore because
the only one who shows me
i have not seen since april.
think of how lucky you are,
warm house, family, friends,
but they wouldn't feel ******* lucky if they stepped inside my head.
if they knew how many flowers crumbled up and turned to dust
at my touch or if they knew what it was like to have
no clue who you are.
i can't even ******* breathe anymore.
Isn’t it lovely
Pieces of my shattered heart
Like petals of a rose
Across our bedroom floor
You’re never coming home
I guess I could have name the poem War Bride.
You are lying in bed,
Listening to the gentle whistle of passing cars,
And the roar of a passing train.
You bite your lip,
Because that is all you can hear.
A month ago, the sounds of the city outside
Would be accompanied by the screams and shouts
Of the two people downstairs
That brought you up.
Sometimes they forgot dinner time.
Or that you hadn’t been bathed in three days.
And all they’d do at night
Insult after insult,
Tears and a piercing smash.
And you’d lay awake and wonder
What you’d find in pieces the next morning.
As much as you’d squeeze your eyes shut,
And bury your face in the pillow,
You couldn’t help but be lulled to sleep
By the turbulence below.
It was your familiarity.
Familiarity comes in the cruellest forms.
There is silence.
You can’t hear
Your Father chugging alcohol.
Under the stark, white kitchen light.
It takes two to fight.
And now there is only one.
And now you can’t sleep.
Because there is nothing familiar about this at all.
This one is slightly less abstract. Also, I love messing around with second person, it involves the reader more! :D