Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Payton Feb 24
Every breath, a weight
on my chest, reluctantly
comes, being chased
only by my
quickening pulse.
A knife slips between
my ribs and with
every word that passes over my lips, it
twists.
A silent scream is trapped
behind my teeth.
Butterflies with knives
are cutting up
my insides.


Found poem from Automatic Loveletter's song "Butterflies"
Check out the other poems in the "Butterflies" series.
This is a found poem. The lyrics at the bottom are not my concept.
This poem was written in 2016.
idiosyncrasy Dec 2020
my tongue isn’t
long enough
to reach all the places down your throat
it wants to touch

i’ll have to kiss your ribs
some other way
idfk. happy two year anniversary, love
waffle Nov 2020
i don't know why im writing this. but i used to write every so often when i was younger.
i am turning 18.
it almost feels like a fever dream. i never felt this frightened my whole life.
is my life really starting? is this the beginning of a decade?
where am i gonna be after this? how am i gonna feel?

you see, growing up, it's that just simple.
nothing changes, and you still gotta wait for something to.
it doesn't magically happens.

and i hate waiting.
i wanna be older and free.
but, most of the time i wish life was simpler like when i was younger.
i was listening to ribs by lorde and my birthday is coming up.
Paul Idiaghe Sep 2020
I await the calm, the bleach
of night, that chapter

when my ribs
unbreak, crawl back

around my cageless heart. eyelids
weigh like lead in this cruel gravity--

they swell faster than tears. tears
that fail to surge me out of this flooded

shell; they close
like every marble door

that stands straight between my dreams
and I,

           and you-- I await
you, draped in downpours & monsoon

tempests; maybe, this time, our wildest
winds would fade out in their collision.
dorian green Sep 2020
what does it say about me
that i think hunger
is what angels sound like?
lineless and with great aching.
and what does it say about me
that i feel like i could
just pull my pelvis bone
from my hip
and watch it
crumble in my hands?
i couldn't sleep so i
traced my bones,
i couldn't sleep so i
felt my gums,
(my skins got a great story that
no onell ever read
fitting, i guess -
i've yet to be anything but
wasted potential.)
but,
despite everything,
there is something comforting
about the lie of a body.
something human in me yet.
what do i want the answer to be
when i feel my chest
and wonder where
my ribs came from?
it was an early lesson that
one must give up ribs
to be worthy of love.
Guntang Jul 2020
is the raging swell upon my ribs?
be it
is the raging swell upon my ribs?
so be it
the dark
navy-blue haze
rig Mar 2020
clawing at my chest
my fingers, through ribs and flesh
to feel if it’s there.
Anastasia Jun 2019
roses in my ribs
lilies on my lips
pearls in my pockets
tulips on my tongue
honeysuckles on my heart
tiger flowers on my thighs
marigolds on my mirror
you make me bloom ♥
Glory Apr 2019
She
It is like having a twin, whose existence makes other people uncomfortable.
Like before I was born, only I was in the ultrasound.
And no one was prepared for her when she followed me into the world.
It is like having a shadow that does not just stretch out behind me,
But instead, she has attached herself to my back.
It is like she has hooked her fingers over the edges of my ribcage,
Her head is resting on the start of my spine.
Her heels are digging into my thighs.
People ask why I let her hang around,
As if I have a choice.
It is like everyone is waiting for me to admit that I want her.
It is like they are all expecting me to secretly bend so she can climb on,
I do not.
They think I like it when I want to laugh but hers is what they hear,
I do not.
They think I choose the days when she is with me, telling me the words to say
I do not.
They think that when I wake up, she is something I put on.
Like a favourite t-shirt or a sad song.
She is not.
She is with me when I wake up.
She is with me when I sleep.
She is with me when I take my clothes off.
She is like a second skin that I can’t shed.

Do not ask me to leave her behind
Because it is not my decision
I cannot control her hold on me
It is her who is pulling the strings

It is like having a side of me that no one wants to know.
- As if they don’t already know her.
She is me when I can not help being down.
She is me when I can hardly whisper a sound.
She is me when I laugh the hardest.
She is me when I am missed.
She is me no matter your belief.
And maybe one day she will walk away.
But until then,
She is me.
A second without her feels like an eternity in Heaven
Next page