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Ellen Joyce Jul 2013
Her laugh broke the window pane -
shards of glass pouring like rain,
the sound of shattering safety made her blood run cold
as she clung to disintegrating silence.

Grains of silent-self
pricking the backs of her eyes until tears streamed down her cheeks
wiping fiction from flesh, eyes turned to the floor
so you won't see the sadness where the sparkle should be.
Could be.
Would be.
Maybe.

She feels the barbed wire noose around her tongue loosen,
unfurling its razor sharp grip on her throat
to the melody of the sweet small voice singing soothing songs
seducing her to speak.

Speak.
The words fall clumsily from her lips like ***** clattering plates
splattering waste on wall and doors
leaving a mess that cannot be swept
nor hidden under the carpet or clothes.
"Please. Please.".

She feels eyes burning into naked-self
declaring the truth as if it had the strength to stand,
to bear the weight of shame from times that should remain untold,
but she told.
"Look away. Please. Don’t look at me,
I need you not to look at me, please please please".

She squirms beneath the squirming,
the crawling cascade of bugs under her skin,
in her-self, ***** girl -
ankles twisting, fingers bending, hands trembling,
heart beating, breath quickening, mouth begging
"please please don’t look at me".

The kiss to be seen, breaks like a scream
on the back of a lifetime playing dead,
choking back the words left unsaid,
hiding scars of the wounds that once bled.  

Wounds that call from beneath layers of scar tissue,
a symphony of whispering simpering bacteria
recalling the filthy mire imploding from the pyre;
seal after seal broken leaving her less beauty, more beast.  
Her pleas broke the threshold,
falling forward, hands and knees grinding into twigs and leaves,
his grip so thick on her hair
that he heaves out a scream from the depths of her bowels,
ripping through tension and fear
to gift a mark, a shame, a name that won’t disappear –
“Don’t look at me”.  

They call it ******
as if you could name a pain that seared so deep it
drew a blood that would take a week to heal
and a ***** that would never stop rising.  

Her arms buckled under the weight of shame,
of blame, of every screaming name he seethed into her sullied flesh,
with every wavering breath she breathed – “please don’t look at me”.  

His hands grip beneath her hips
nails biting into aching, seeping flesh, filling her pores with
more, more, more.  

Baths - a thing of the past,
water hot, rusted and greying with the rot that lies on her,
with the putrid knot that lies in her.  
“I’m so ashamed.”

Her exhaustion broke her human-ness –
body depleted from repeated invasion that she couldn’t stop,
that he wouldn’t stop -
as forced kisses stole breath,
focus lost and a nip to his tongue would cost a choke-hold to blur the world,
spit on her face hurled with the venom of an injured python.  

Cold, hard, scraping against skin trying to get in –
“Please.” –
bugs crawling, cascading, invading,
fighting my womb, biting my flesh raw, boring into my blood
turning life force to mud and self separated from beautiful source.  

I felt his thrill at my hip.
“Please don’t ...
Is it masochism to share the most humiliating, hurt or is it healthy?”
*
Her mouth broke -
alive with sensations and nerves that serve
to taste to feel, to flex a tongue to sing to speak to eat.  
He drew her to her knees,
with greater and greater ease
to penetrate perception with ******* till her jaw ached and strained,
drained, choking back the spoils of man,
feeling panic as her stomach recoils vomiting shame.

lisagrace Jul 19
I must look ridiculous
to these other café patrons—
just a woman with orange-dyed hair
blinking back stubborn tears,
trying not to cry
into her honey, lemon, and ginger.

But I sit there, half-failing
to maintain my composure.
I look anywhere else—
up at the ceiling,
out the window,
trying not to meet anyone’s eyes.

These tears dare to seep,
but this sadness needs to steep—
not pour.
Or else they'll overflow
in overwhelm.
I must take the helm.

So I take a sip:
that warm, sweet bitterness
rights the ship.
And the gentle calm
soaks back in.
They may glance over and wonder
What must be on her phone
To evoke such emotion?

Oh, don't mind me
I'm just writing poetry
about a silly girl,
and her hopes for understanding
Falling onto deaf ears yet again
and again,
and again,
and again
One more long swill
A sharp intake of breath
They prickle at my eyes,
Again

My teacup is empty -
I think I'll need another ***
For the sake of my sanity
I cannot let them see it pour
For a flood, an empty teacup
Has begot
A poem about writing a poem in a café – literally TODAY, trying not to cry. It's about holding it together when your heart is steeping in too much.
Warmth, near-overwhelm, and one more *** of tea.
AE Jul 17
the last time I had spoken to ghosts
was when I unbuttoned the world
and took a seam ripper to all its edges
sitting in your old chair
holding the fabric of remembrance
chewing on the mouldy taste of grief
slowly freeing the overlocked words
I had buried deep into the stitches

the thing is,
when I get dressed in the morning
There's always a button missing
There's always a sadness
stuck in the hem
Kalliope Jul 11
I’m shaking, I’m breaking, I don’t know what to say,
I know I have faults, but you made me this way.
I grew you gardens, you smashed them to the ground,
Made me feel like I was horrible to be around.

You’d do anything for me, a knight at my heel,
But when I got comfortable, that’s when you got real.
Suit of armor discarded, no time to waste,
I must submit and forget freedom’s taste.

I can’t trust your kindness, it always feels fake,
Anxiety peaked, each smile feels like a mistake.
I tunneled out, broke away from your ground,
But you broke my mind, my thinking unsound.

If someone is kind, my heart starts to race,
Because kindness once ended with knuckles to my face.
Trust in this world is so hard to be found,
I’m trying to heal, but I’m being too loud.

Yet I don’t know any other way,
Than to scream my thoughts and even my pain.
It’s up and down, this chaos I’m feeling,
It’s bitterly exhausting—
But I guess that’s just healing.
I want off this rollercoaster ride
I want away from this unsteady tide
I hate feeling like this at night
I know, I know it'll be alright
Kaitied Jul 7
Blade
Skin
Slice

Warm
Flowing
Blood

Dark
Silent
Thud

Scream
Sirens
Rush

"It's
Too
Late"

Calm
Quiet
Rest
Kalliope Jun 12
We never had a song—
no chorus to hum,
no melody stitched
into the seams of us.

And maybe we didn’t need one.
Maybe the silence was enough.
But you love music.
And I love music.

So how did we not have a song,
if the love was real?
When we were dancing
were we pretending to feel?
I have no song I can't listen to while I grieve what was, and somehow that's healing.
Kalliope May 27
Did you love me?
Or was it just my laughter at your jokes—
my habit of giggling, even at your half-shady pokes?

Did you love me?
Or did I just have the time?
Did you think, “Yeah, she’s not half bad. This could be just fine.”

Did you love me?
Or were you just scared—
tired of doing life alone, craving a body that cared?

Was it real for you? Or just another game?
Was I a plot point in your story
because the chapters had gotten tame?

These thoughts still haunt me—
and the truth I’ll never know.
Mostly because I’d never ask—
and I wouldn't survive you saying “no.”
Some flowers bloom but never grow,
Their roots too shy to let you know.
Your lunar petals, pale and bright,
Still haunt my garden every night
Nobody Nov 2024
i don't know what's wrong with me
but something was happening so long ago
and it still repeats in my head
makes me want to shut my eyes and go

i don't know what's wrong with me
but i can't talk about it
no matter how hard i try
i'm just to scared to admit that i've been through some ****...

i don't know what's wrong with me
every time i see those awful people
every time there's a loud noise or a crowded room
it just reminds me that the whole world is sheeple

i don't know what's wrong with me
their words repeat in my head in an infinite loop
their mocking keeps coming up
feels like i'm in a boiling *** of trauma soup...

haha i don't ******* know what's wrong with me!!!
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