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You are the restless tattoo of my sorrow
Inked deeper than my skin, deeper than my bone
Your brilliance shines through to my most hidden my most protected depths
Thoughts, emotions... these are no match for you,
They are consumed, obliterated in your wake
Your caress deafens me, shakes my existence
Hold me in those cruel arms, I will not shun you
Let your suffocating presence steal my breath once more

Be calm my beautiful friend
I greet you without fear
I am listening, confide in me
You are welcome here
My eyes are always searching
For those hidden paths,
Escape routes
Through the ghost towns
That I am tearing down
With slow hands
cleobug Dec 2020
i wish i had said no to you
i think about it all the time

i can’t let [ it ] go
i wish i could forget
( if i don’t think about it, it won’t hurt.. right? )

i swear i had said no to you
maybe you just didn’t wanna hear it

i can still feel your hands on me
i wish i had made you listen
( pretending something didn’t happen doesn’t make it so )

i took pills instead of chances
i thought i was healed
but this is only the beginning

there’s no failing
it’s a process
slow progress is still progress

forgive yourself
keep going
keep g r o w i n g

hurt as long as you need to
hurt as LOUD as you need to
cleobug Dec 2020
miles away
i’m feeling F a r  A w a y…
i see myself and i just float (t)here
waiting to wake up from this fog

things are hazy
curse that **** juice
what happened exactly?
the words are heavy on my tongue…

can’t get myself to spit them out
can’t get myself to speak the truth
can’t get myself to admit what you did to me

out of character behavior
out of body experience

oh
you don’t remember
oh
i’m sorry i’m holding onto things you forgot all about

i tried to use you as an antidepressant
you just used me
i should have left my feelings for you at the door

i wish i had said no to you
i wish i had been given the choice

i’ve got to let it go (but when? and how?)
if i don’t think about it, it won’t hurt.. right?
gotta focus on someday cuz today hurts a little too much

i wish i could stop thinking about this
i wish i could forget you
i wish you could understand that i don’t hate you
i just wish i’d never met you
some old writing
Ameliorate Dec 2020
Cigarette smoke tickles my lungs as I inhale the closest thing I ever got from you.
I don’t smoke but you did most of your life.
Truthfully, I smoked often after your death;
Feeling though if this was a way to feel your presence.  
Though it only irritates my lungs.
One night I drank 3 bottles of wine;
I don’t drink.
I burnt a hole in my couch singing “before you go”; hadn’t lit up anything other than marijuana since then.
Smoking wouldn’t bring my father back.
Wouldn’t repair the trauma he caused during my youth.  
31 years old doesn’t prepare you for the death of your father.
The three months you gained weight
Didn’t leave your bed
Pushed many of your friends away because rejection sensitivity.
And cried so hard you nearly threw up
3 months of worsening binge eating where you felt so full you couldn’t breathe
Severe depression
And oddly enough suicide ideation.
Misplaced guilt from abuse that wasn’t your fault.
Sweat soaked sheets from chaotically descriptive  nightmares
Unrelenting dissociation.
Even longer tangling with delicious self hatred, words your father used when he would belittle your body while you developed an eating disorder at his hand.
My thighs are getting bigger
-insert self loathing here-
I won’t repeat those abusive words;
As I’m trying to heal.
5 nights shy of 1 year.
I can say I finally like myself.
The other side of shutdown reared it’s caressing warmth;
The chrysalis of self discovery erupting like a volcanic convocation.
Complex post traumatic stress disorder.
I wear this diagnosis like a badge, proof of my experiences.
I miss you.
Though I am not unhappy you’re gone.
Descriptive piece on my fathers suicide. Tw: death. Eating disorder. Suicide.
The world warps
And goes fuzzy around the edges
Like I am not real,
A place holder or chest piece.
My limbs do not move like they are mine,
As if they are foreign bodies attached to my trunk.
The floor is the only solace.
I melt into the stiff boards and rough carpet
Until the world tilts back and becomes
Whole again.
Ameliorate Nov 2020
You walk up to the porch, muddy boots disturbing settled dust
Looking down, you proceed to wipe boots off
I cringe slightly as muck settles into my crevices
You finish your task and step onward toward warmth, leaving your wake behind
***** and dripping wet
“Let me get the door for you”, I say happily  as I brush the dirt off my clothes following you inside.
Cptsd fawn. This is an analogy of people pleasing as a trauma response.

© JUPITERSPROUT_2020
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