Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I am but ashes
In your fire,
Consumed,
Until I stopped providing you oxygen
And fizzled you out.
I have a memory that kills me
Like shards of glass sliding through my atrium,
Undetectable until it has ripped an
Irreparable hole in my heart.
His arm is tightened around my neck,
Pulling me to him,
My fear thicker than the air I could not breathe.
And then it was over,
Over like the red and sweat of my face
As the oxygen rushed back in.
Therapist says it was not an accident.
In 30 seconds he had tested me.
I was controllable.
Pass or fail
Depends on who you ask.
Could mean brushing my hair
Or you combing my emotions for entry points.
Either way,
Untangling the knots
HURTS.
My biggest hope
Is that one day,
I won't jump every time the door opens,
Hoping it's not you walking in.
wren cole Oct 2019
there's something bitterly comedic about seeing you talk about trauma
like you're the victim of something great,
like you're holding all these secrets in those big, wretched, calloused hands i feel in my darkest nightmares.
poor baby, poor teddy,
oh brother,
do you feel small?
and did i feel small, hiding in closets, or under that loft bed?
under that same loft bed. hand made, white painted wood,
heart-shaped pillow, lavender dollhouse,
quiet games,
dead childhood,
stolen innocence.
come to me, cry to me,
you just lost your girlfriend,
you just lost your job,
your life all fell apart
and i am soothing you through gritted teeth
remembering how you ruined mine before it even had the chance to start.
they say
i know you don't like him but you must love him.
i wonder if blood is still blood once you've drawn it?
and i still feel like i owe it to you.
it was us against this whole dark world that left us
but you were supposed to protect me.
i should have been playing with toys,
but i was the toy.
when we went hungry i was the raw meat in your mouth.
you starved for anything you could tear into, cut up, make a mess of.
we had that holes in our couch, holes in my childhood,
"you're not on my hit list yet,"
"i'm just checking up on you" kinda brotherly love that is swept so neatly under the rug until it eats right through the floorboards.
i try to will those gaps back in my memory.
it would be so much easier if i just swallowed it right up dry, choked it down, let it digest, let it melt away to a stomach ache so i don't have to think about you.
i will scrub my skin raw at the end of this scream,
try to wash you off of me,
but this has been embedded deep in my skin for so long,
too long-
can you tell me when it started?
honest to god i don't remember.
what was it about me, soft face, soft limbs, empty mouth that made you want to hurt me?
my earliest memories exist in haunting.
my formative years are a poltergeist, you are the evil thing inside of me.
and so you come to me with stories and expect sympathy,
And i will hold my tongue in my mouth lest i feel enough like a wounded animal to try eating you alive,
pretending the iron taste of blood that floods my mouth is yours,
that i am as strong and metallic.
my brother messaged me the other day and i wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands
Deadwood Jawn Oct 2019
No.. Just take it easy...
It's not her.

                               S̷h̵e̶'̴s̴ ̴h̷e̵r̵e̸,̶ ̶
                                             J̴o̷h̴n̴.̵.̶.̵

Shh.. No..
It's just cold.

                                              h̶e̵r̶ ̶c̷r̶i̸m̶s̶o̵n̸ ̸h̶a̷i̵r̸,̷
                                   l̷i̶k̶e̷ ̵y̴o̷u̶r̴ ̸b̸l̷o̴o̶d̷,̶

I'm aware of her...

                                                         ­  Í̷̘t̵̪̕ ̶͉͆ē̴͚͆x̵̞̏̾i̸͙̐̅s̴̲͍͊t̵̮̯̅s̵͔͋

It was 7 years ago..

                                                          ­            C̷̨͙̖̠̣̳̓͐͗Ō̴͚̗̖̣͍̾̄́L̵̪̪̭̓̿̔͛̏̃̈́D̸̤͍̗͑̍

She really was the first healer.



                                              C̵̊̽̑̑͑͛­̙̤͕͉̟͕̯̺͑Ȯ̸͔͚̺̝̲̺̝̿̂́̄͌̀L̶̼̤̓͊̓̕D̴̩͍̹̻͈̬̳̖̫́̒̌̈̾̇̀̎̋̔͌̈́͌͋


_ _ _ _ _ ... The years of grieving.


                          C̶̢̛̠̩̹͓̝̻͙͈͕̺̥͈̺͚̜̗̈̍̑́̿̅͝­O̸̧̡̫̦͓͎̗̮̜̦͎̬͖̖̙͍͍͉̺̥̍̓̈́̉̀͌̔̀͊̿̈́̃͑͑͊̏̕͘͘͜͝ͅL̵̛̜̱͈̋̏̈̉̀̉̀͋̑̈́̽̈D̸­̧̡̧̮̩̠͇͕̞͎̜̙͚̜͕̑͛̇̓̈́̆̐͂̚



I was never hugged before.
Until I met her.

                          S̶T̵A̶Y̸I̴N̷G̴ ̸O̶U̶T̵ ̵U̶N̸T̸I̴L̸ ̸
                                                T̵H̴E̶ ̴C̷O̵L̷D̶ ̸P̶E̵N̴E̸T̴R̴A̴T̶E̶D̶ ̵
                          T̴H̶E̴ ̷S̵K̸I̴N̸

But we got together 4 years later..

                                                        ­                 Ć̵̬̥Â̴̫̯R̴̝͛ͅ ̴͉͊̈Ä̸̼̲̓İ̵̟R̶̳̽̀ ̷̡͔̈F̷̙̙̆Ṛ̵́̋E̵̲̾̎Ş̷̻̀͘Ḧ̷̙́E̵̢͐͂Ṇ̷̢̆̓E̵̦̐R̵͖̐̓,̶͇̙́̓
         ­                                               ̶͉͔̿͋V̵̨̫͐A̴̯̔͛N̵̂­̙͜Ḯ̶͕L̷̼͊L̸̝̓͗A̷͙̙͠ ̷̥͇͑Ṩ̸̆Ć̷͓̟Ẻ̷̘̲̚N̶͙̖͗T̶͉͕̕S̷̛̙͂

... It's over, isn't it?

                            L̷o̸o̸k̴ ̷a̵t̸ ̴t̷h̵e̴ ̸l̷o̷c̷a̷t̵i̷o̷n̶ ̷a̸n̸d̵ ̸s̸e̶e̸ ̷t̶h̵e̶ ̵s̷i̵l̵h̴o̶u̷e̵t̸t̵e̴s̶ ̸

It's okay...

                            B̸͎͈̥͉̝͖̘͍̓̉̊̈́̌̏̅̀͂͝ů̵̊͆́͑͠­̧̘̻̖̟̩̘̑̚ͅt̸̤̥̲͙͕̝͊͒̾̍̊͊̍̀͜͝ ̶̡̩̼̭͇̀̿̌̌į̴̔͗t̸̡̲̪̘̠͇͎͇̫̙̗̐́͋͗̕͝'̵̢̥͕͓̲͈̇͒s̸̛̠͙̺͈̬͓͓͌̇̍̄́͊̒̈́̈́̕͝­̬ ̷̢̝̣͙̝̯̼̫̣̳͚̍ȏ̸̢̱̰͚̌̍́̉͌͐̀͝k̴̫̯̪̱͓̏̒â̵̲͙͖̟͈̼̙̮̰̔͆̓̌̀̐̏͝͝y̵͌́̃̌͛­̡̛̫̫̤͈̤̯̟̟̰̰̽̈͑̉͛͝











I̸͆͊͆̎̇̆̌͗͑͑̃͂̊̆̾͗̑̆̋̎̆͐͋̌̔̂̋̀͐́́͘̕­̨̢̧̢̨̨̢͇͙̠̙̯̟͉͙͖̖̱̦̬͙̲͓͕̻͈͓̺̳͍̯͈̳̪͊̎͊̔̌͑̃́̃̒͋̀̃͂̎̈͛̇̓͂̿͌̍̌̅͗̐͜͜͜͝­͖͎̻̦̦'̷̧̢̨̢̡̭̻͎͖͕͇͖̦̳͚̼̺̤̥̳̬̜̣̝͙̰̞͚͖̋̇̅̋̅̅͛͑̐̍̌͌́̇́͒́̓̃͊̈́́̈̋͘͝͠͝ͅ­̨̡̨̻̥̠̙̭̘̗̜͕̳̯̳͈̟̙͇̳̬̜͇̞̪͉͚͈̪̤̝͜ͅM̵̨̛͎̩̪̮̱̻̣̦͙̯̆̆͐̊̏͌̓̋̑̆̃͗̑͒̈́̅̀̚­̨̧̞̥̥̯͍͖̱̱͍͇̬͕͇̙̳̟͙̠̘̜͚̬̥̹͕̟͎̘͉̯̯̩̥͎̫͙̬̼̤̭̜̩͍͜ͅͅͅ ̴̨̛͈̼͙̞͕͕̣̓͒̃̂̍̓͛̆̂͒͊̃̽̃̾͌̆̆́͛̾̾̅̏̊̽̆͒̓̿̋͒͊͑̾̉́͋̐́́͂͊̿̀̎͛͘̚̕͝͝͠͝͠­̧̭̙̯̘̙̦͚͎̰̥S̴̛̛̾͛̅̊̉̾̅̃̒̉̅͂̓͗̐̈̏̈́͂̊͌͊̎͆͌̾͛̀́̈́͑̇͛̒̓̀̇́̕͘̕̕̚̚͘̕͘͠͝­͔̠͚̬̥̤̹͕̜͍̻̥̘͕̣͚̙̥̦̖̤̯̣̣͕͇̹̝̜͎͇͙̠̤͔̲͕̠̻̲́̆̈́̈́̑́̔͂̂̑̾͌͊͌̾̏͊̒̋͛́̒͠ͅT­̸͌̄̋̄̉̏͗̓̔̇̽͋̈́͗̉͂̌͊̆̍͊̊̈́͐̄͊͗̓̂̾̍͒̏̄̑́̌͒̈́͑̈́͊̇̈̆͂̓̌̆̑̐̅̈̀̍̚͘̕̚͘͘̚͠͠­̢̗̬̭̠͎̱̙͜I̵̛̛͆̑̇̓̀͒̂̔̆͑̓͛͗͊̑͐̃͂́͒̍̈̀̈́͌̑̀͆̅͑́̃͋͛͑͗͒́̋̒͊̾͆̈́͂͘̚͘͘̚̚͠­̧̛̰̺̖̗̥̩̩̝̭̻̞̠͖̫͚̮͔͇̺̮͙̮͉̯͚̟͕̹͍̺̮̝̩̰̝͇̼̺͎͍͙̜̹̙̈̎̓̐̄́̅̈́̀͗̆̅͘̕͜͜͜͝͠­̡̙̟͍̲̱͍͓͇̣̺͖̟̻͚L̶̛̛͑̊͋̅͗̑̏͂̆̎̐͂͊͂̍͛̾̄̉̆̀̓̀̒̿̒̔͛͊̏́͂͛̍̊̂̊͂̅̚̕͘͝͠͝͝­̡̧̨̡̧̱̥̮͇͙̙͚̟͖̬̻̪̳̺͍̭͍̙̭̪̬̘̙̠̰͍͍̟̼̬͓͚͈̘͉͇͓̰̥̳̥͙̬͓͚̋̉̍̃̅̏̋̐̄̋̽̉͗̚̚­̡̡̡̡̠̝̲̺͔̼̰̣͖͔̦͔̮̫̣̗̠̥̰͎L̴̨̛̛̛̼̜͖̪̘̼͈̼̲͍͇͋́̓̔̑̒͊̈́͗͒̀̏̀̓̑̿̊̓̚͜͝͠͝͠­̧̢̡͎̳̗̮̫̗̙͉͈̙̳͕̻̘̟̯̬ͅ ̵̢̛̗̼͚̪͕̝͇̝͉̣͍̠̬͔̺̽̇͌̾̑̅̑͐́̾̏̓̉̆͆̓̿͌̔͑͒́̍͑̔̽͌̇̐͐̎͌̐̑̂̈́̄̑̋̔̒͘͘̕̚͘­̦͕̱͉̳͉̮̭̟̮͎H̴̙͉͈̙͙̞̻̜̟̺̯͍̹͙̗̫̬̫͍̼͈̦̘̝̻͋̔̓͗̐̓́͋̆͆̚̚͘͝E̵̡̧͎̘͍͗̓̌̐̚͜­̢̢̢͓̲̮̪̗̮̰̗͈̮͉̲̠̰̼͍̩͉̠͇̦̼̰̤̮̪͜ͅR̵̃̔̔̀̈́͂̍̀͗͛̆̾͆́̀̌́̾̐́̔͆̔̒̐͑͘͘̕͝͠͠­̧̨̢̢̨̡̨͖͖͈̦͍̥̗̖̘̩̞̝͖̣͓͙̲̭̹̥͎̘͈̙̰̳̣̙̫͎̣̲͉̮͔̦̤̹̣̤̥̰̞̞͚̼̬͕̯̩̫̿̿́̚͜͝͠­̖ͅĘ̵̛̜͎̣̹̻͉̍̃́̇́̂̑̌̒̌̇͗̈́͒̈́̉̓̉̉͊̉̀̓̅̽̀̊̎̒̎͛͛͑͋͛̾̉͒̅͐̍̑̈̕̚͘͘͝͝͠͝͠͠­̢̢̨̧̧̢͍̠͚̺̠̮̟̩͖̙̗̣̦̱̤̰̝̰͔̯̱͍̺̪͔̞̪̞̥͍̹͇̼̮̖̲͜ͅͅ










__­_____
I won't just ignore this happened.. It happened.. It's okay..
Winter will stretch out his aged arms and show me the memories still remain.
Released
11.22

This year has been all
Out of order but I can
Feel that explanations

Are on there way
Also
Maleficent 2
....
No coincidences
I know I'm complex, but I still hold
Out hope that I'm someone
Worth Solving

Figure me out!
Learn how I tick!
And how I turn off
So you won't flip
My switches
The wrong ways

And we can light each other up
Without being afraid of
All the memories
Of times it happened when
It never should have

I know there's a light in me
That burns as bright as any other
It's just buried so deep that
People get lost and give up
Please don't give up on me

I haven't given up yet,
I just want someone to
Get me lost out of my mind
Out of my control
For the first time

And not everyone's a diver
But I know some of you
Like the thrill of a solving
The unsolvable, the plunge
Into the deep

I have to believe
I hold a treasure worth
Discovering or how else
Will someone put up with
The risks I pose?
I vote we change Content Warning
To Contact Warning.
Please keep your words off my emotions
And your knives out of my heart.
Next page