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Ciel Apr 2016
Fingers through grass,
Green.
Stained against flesh,
Guilty.
The water will never
wash away your crimes.
Rip it from the earth,
dirt against skin,
Brown,
Mud,
Crusting.
The water will never
wash away the sin,
Forever marked
against your
Pale
Plaster
Skin.
It's been a while since I've posted anything.
Haruhi Feb 2016
This sadness is bottled up **** a nicely aged wine.
I going insane and trudging through the pain.
Mother, mother my friends are fine.
They would never let me stray.
Or fall behind.

Mother,
I'm crying on the inside by showing off a smile.
My lies are the truths and my truths are lies.
I couldn't bare to see you mad or sad.

Mother,
You've tried to make me a respectable young woman,
Tried to push me to the light,
But the monster in me is holding on tight.
Time and time again you've pulled me out,
But the madness is overwhelming consuming me inside.

Mother,
It's not your fault.
But mine.
I'm the stain on your heart,
You can't rub off.

I still care even though I blew it.
I wouldn't be surprised if you walked out just like daddy did.
But that doesn't matter now.
I'll go to sleep shut my mouth.
But in the morning don't expect me to be sitting there on the couch.
I don't know what to say....
If anyone needs someone to talk to I'm here! ^.^
I'm a good listener! I swear! <3
kailasha Feb 2016
I won't be plucking off petals from my rose
like those lovesick Romeos and Juliets on park benches.
I don't need luck and petal symmetry to believe.

I won't litter the petals
like lipstick marks or blood stains on white sheets.
I won't be placing them in a vase half full,
that's temporary.

I have a better plan in mind,
a better way to immortalize
my rose. Deep within a gift,
pressed between pages
is a symbol of your love to me.
gwach.
honeybee Jan 2016
you painted on my tongue
i can hear your gentle voice
wrapped around my jarring words

i tried to brush you away
drowned myself in mouthwash
tied a noose with floss,
but

you will never leave me
i am stained

i'll never know
the paintings i'd create
if i hadn't kissed you first
i don't want you there anymore. i don't want the feel of you on my skin, i don't want you. it's not healthy to drink yellow paint.
Sasha Dec 2015
I wish I was the wandering souls that escape from your coffee cup every morning. The ones that get pressed upon your cigarette stained lips.
cassiopeia miel Nov 2015
Like a squiggle in your eye; blink,
and
I'm
gone
because I am all lipstick smudges left under carefully-pressed lapels, or Sharpied innuendos scrawled on bathroom walls in dingy bars.
A souvenir from one ephemeral moment, a fleeting tryst of dispassion (from my side at least); before I am scrubbed bare and raw.

DON'T YOU TOUCH ME, for I am so tender.
Thrown into the wash;
you can clean me, but the stain remains.
The scent of sugar, sweat and shame.
Luna Nov 2015
tobacco stains everything
it stains my lungs
my love
my life
my brain
it makes me feel alive
it makes me feel okay
and i've started to believe i’ve become addicted
as the shakes start to settle
and the energy begins to flood through my body
motivating me and immobilizing me
i can't stop smoking and i can't believe it's gotten this far
i believe that
this will take over my life
as much as i don't want it to
it soothes my thoughts
but not my hands
i promised myself i wouldn’t get addicted
not become a slave to the industry that ***** me in
the nicotine keeps me coming back every time
everything keeps me coming back
i literally can't handle the thought of being addicted again
addicted to the thoughts of being addicted
after i drank
after i took
after i smoked
i couldn't be without it
it makes me admits things i'm too afraid to admit to sober
it makes everything come out easier
i want someone to understand that this
makes me afraid
afraid for myself, my life
it makes me afraid that this will be something that ***** my money away
penny by penny
i thought that this would be something easy to quit after so many years of abusing it
i thought that this was something that i could handle
i thought
and i thought
and i guess that’s whats brought me here
this was a good year ago, i had already been smoking for at least two years. Sad to admit that i have still not quit.
I find it hard to keep my head on the level
          Keep thinking,
waiting for the second I lose my mental
     Missing some thoughts about you
Memory got shot, a drive-by from what the last guy put me through
     And some of the blood left a few stains
Bruises and scars but it ain't the same thang
            The marks everyone else can see ain't nothing compared to the rips and tears deep inside of me
       The stains on my soul turning what used to make me whole
          into something ***** and cold
      No amounts of bleach or scrubbing can make me forget
Nothing can help me escape from
             the laundry list of regrets
It beats me up inside,
       causes more, new and fresh bruises
               with every nightmare
And no matter how many dreams I have between,
         I can't seem to get there
To that place of no longer looking back,
            of thinking about the past
Cause some trauma tends to define
      what your **happiness lacks
ji Aug 2015
His neck like napkins,
and her kisses are coffee;
she stained him love,
but stained him scanty.
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