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zoya skylar Feb 7
i ask you to repent, for me
come clean, for me
and tell your dad,
no, i wasn’t 18

i was
mature for my age
Claire Elizabeth Jul 2023
I’ve begun “The Wasting” once more.

That ragged uncovering of bones and peaks and ridges that crop up along my spine and shoulders.

My scapulas revealing themselves like the bed of a lake as the waters recede.

Indents beside and under my kneecaps, hollows that match the ones slowly sinking themselves back into my cheeks.

And the hipbones…the things I truly crave to see through the paper thin layer of my skin…

Those…I’d starve myself to waifish proportions just to graze my hands along the mountaintops of those things, those sharp little things.

I lose my hair and my colour and my shine just to dig my fingers into the hardness of my breastbone, just to know that my jawbone is an overhang, just to plunge headfirst into the thrill of being thin.

“The Wasting” and I are friends, and I want to drown in her.
Wren Jun 2023
I will never be the same again.
But truly who ever was I?
The foundation never formed,
All there ever was – is mourning.
Died then revived.
Died and revived once again.
Continuously digging myself up from the grave.
A wraith amongst the dead,
I cannot rest because I have never truly lived.

Necromancy upon my soul,
A constant yearning to finally be whole.
A body covered in dirt and scars.
Yet I am determined to make it beautiful.
A heart full of spite, yet bursting with love.
An incautious desire to one day be enough.
I refuse to rest until I experience what real, safe human touch feels like.

Place a hand upon my sulphuric body.
I was once so afraid but now I am begging.
Please take it away, please tell me I am not *****.
I suppressed it all but now I'm overflowing.
I care not who you are, please just love me.
Lay me down amongst the green.
Put all your limbs on top of me.
Make imprints upon this rotten flesh,
until I can finally feel clean.

A body barren and hollow,
A body that only knows shame.
My bones are coated in it,
Words spewing it,
Tears pouring with it.
All I am is shame.

She used to smile so innocently when she was young.
With a laugh like a howling winds great bellow.
She would fantasise about her first love, I let her down.
Now I am screaming, snarling, spitting.
Resenting a world that I was foolish to trust.

Drive a stake through my heart,
I ask of you to wish me peaceful rest.
Hopefully this time I will not rise again.

Banished.
Heavy damange
hannah Sep 2022
he leaned over, breath hot against cool skin

and it didn't feel like fire, but it felt like a burn. and i closed my eyes, rapid moving things

nudging for an escape,

and thought i could hear heartbeats flooding my lungs

but from where wept, it sounded like anger.

and from where i heaved, it sounded like ripping flesh, like the slow drag of a zipper and the whip of an unfastening belt.

i could draw out the shape of him

without staring, without studying. he wanted me to remember.

& i remembered

It felt like fire then, and it burned like a flame and i opened my eyes, and kept them steady.

while, the train shook the house.

while these bones were cement things, laid out beside me.

don't cry, don't cry, my, darling, don't cry.

and for the most fragile moment,

swore his hands wound around my flesh, were there to mend me, not break me.

and for the briefest moment, i swore this was more than just

a broken body tapered to the mattress like a stain.

it wasnt raining, but it felt like it.

wait wait

the train is too loud and i feel like im being ****** right underneath

Wait

Like all flesh rubbed raw,

Everything stays a shade of pink
Shannon Soeganda Jul 2022
Would love to meet you again
After all these years

But for now,
I need you to know—

that I have always loved you,
And I always will,

It’s just that,

I don’t trust my self enough
to see you the next day,

or any day after.
It’s excruciatingly painful to be fine one minute and gone the next.
kaela May 2022
the quick decision
that leaves lives filled with grief.

the quick ending
of a life that should have lasted longer.

suicide is not an option
but to those of us
it's the only answer.
please seek help if you are struggling. it may seem like the only option but it only passes your pain onto those who love and care for you. suicide hotline: 800-273-8255
jude rigor Mar 2022
i started this poem
when i was
nearly 23
i'm 24 now
almost 25
but i still feel
like a child.

19
trying drugs,
loving the man
who would **** me.
and i'd forgive him
take him back into my arms
let him touch me anywhere
just to feel something.
afterward
he smokes
and smokes
and smokes
apologizing
through a haze
of drugs and
shame. he spoke
useless fragile
words and i drank
them up eagerly.
they tasted like
whiskey,
valerian,
and ice.

when i'm 20
i find a therapist.
no more drugs;
still loving him.
i slide a new slate
across the kitchen
table just for him.
but it's cracking
as his fingers
pick it up,
shattering in
place. he moves
from stone
to skin. rips
and tears
until i'm
finally
split
too.

21
still in therapy,
i tell him
it's okay
that he
cheated
because
it was
all
about
the drugs:
not me.
but when i
tell him how
much it hurts
he says
maybe you
should work on that
in therapy.
i lean into
his side
but being
near him
never quite
feels the
same and
i ache for
comforting
sin.

i'm 22 when i find out
that being pressured
into *** after
saying no twice
isn't consensual
and he's not
round anymore
but at night
i hold my breath
terrified that he'll
appear. in my
dreams there
are flash
backs lying
in wait, even
though i've
begged for
some dream
less sleep.

when i'm 23
my third or fourth
therapist
tells me
she's sorry that
i had to go through
it all. and she listens
as i fade away and keeps
listening until i
can feel the earth
at my feet
once more.
she's a good
sort. i'm sad
when she
moves.

24 creeps
upon me
like a scratchy
sweater. i want to
shrug it off of my
shoulders, but it's
too cold. i'm no
longer the things
that happened
to me in that
darkening room,
and at twilight
most nights
i no longer find
myself thinking of
him.

i feel so old.
my bones always
hurt, the cat's food
is so expensive, and
i always have chicken
in the freezer. but
i can't bring myself
to eat. the medications
keep the ache at bay
but i feel it waiting.
at least my cat always
purrs when i feed him.
makes me feel
a little
loved.

my chance to grow
got pushed back a
few years
and i probably grew
anyways, unknowingly
pushing back against
invisible walls waiting
for one to finally give.

i hate that i'm here
trapped in adolescence
i hate that i'm still
writing about him
about what happened
and how much it still
hurts me.

maybe when i'm 25
i'll try to edit
this poem.
i found this unfinished poem and decided to re-write it. it's a lot. i tried to tag trigger warnings so i hope this didn't make anyone upset. i should edit this one day. [tw: sa] = [trigger warning: ****** assaul t]
There can be no absolution
for the things I’ve done

yet you do not talk of revenge or retribution

you forgive, too easily
(or maybe I believe, too easily)

lulled into a false sense of security

maybe I will pay one day
offer a vial of my blood to a faceless God

break my bones down
until they are a pile of dust

dust that you can scatter, like ashes
pretending I was good once, kind, considerate

a girl a million miles away for the one
wielding the knife over your best friend’s heart

yes, there were mitigating circumstances
but very few victims actually **** their ******

I mean, that’s wrong. They all should, really,
and get away with it.

because people like that have given up
their right to live

**** is ****** in a way,
except you wake up…

to **** these animals is self defence,
reclaiming, asserting yourself that
you will NOT be a ******* victim

that there can be only one survivor in this
and that’s you
Renee Jul 2021
i wait for you on my crumbling precipice
and no, roaring waves heed not my call below
slow, i retrace my steps away from the  edge
but oh the ledge, its comfort calls
i wait for you, my dear, my love
to part the crowded sea, to relieve me
of the gray flag i hold that i wish to relinquish
this is not what i want, but who i am might be incongruent
with the life i imagined, golden sun and rain abhorrent
Jaicob Jul 2021
I've been taken advantage of.
I've been lied to a thousand times.
My mind is awfully broken now,
Adn my body is riddled with lines.

I can't believe you did this to me
After you said you loved me.
In the end, it was just a trap,
And the ransom was my sanity.

I made myself pretty for you,
Dolled up with bows and paint.
It was never good enough though.
You stole more of me every day.

I tore myself apart because
I couldn't be enough.
Even then you yelled at me
"Get over it.. Life is tough"

You never believed me when I said
A thing you didn't like.
I told you I hated you in my life
Always feeding me molten lies.

Even then, you pushed me away
And tore me limb from limb.
Everything I did to myself
Was caused by you, mum, not him.
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