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Natalie Feb 2018
I can taste him in certain air pressures
I can see him through the fog
When it gets too dense, I feel his hands around my neck again

And God, does it feel amazing
How he takes my breath away
Natalie Jan 2018
There's a small black house that I go into to hide
It’s cold and its dark, but I’m glad that it’s mine
And when the sun goes down, I hear someone talking outside
While I sit by exposed insulation and drink bottles dry
But I use his charm as a chaser that nixes the taste
It blurs my eyesight so I can block out his face
I enjoy the brokenness in everything, because it's my own little space

The ceiling fan makes me anxious and the heater is too loud, but it's a tranquil kind of place
You'd understand if you lived here

It's always before the sun goes down, and before the evening can begin
I beg for his voice to leave but I’m still dying to let him in
But he’s always been such a bad listener
He is just a visitor
And I am still his prisoner
My hands are shaking as I slowly lock the door
And I ******* hate how I can’t hold myself together and keep dropping to the floor
I can’t sleep anymore
Everything I have ever done was done simply because he exists
I’ve got a black and white tattoo of a matchbox on my wrist
For every time I want to burn down this house and he won't let me
For every time I start panicking
but I really don't want to fight
Because every time I think it's bad here, he convinces me it's alright
And I really don't want to make him mad at me again


“Let’s go for a drive”, he tells me as he downs another beer

And I wish I had the nerve to go with him and get out of here,
but I’m drunk again because he keeps leaving bottles in the hallway
And if I left at this time of night, who knows what the voices would say


he’s sliding the car keys under my door
Natalie Jan 2018
If you ask me
It's almost corrupt how we hear stories and dream of places in the sky that we cannot reach because our wings are clipped and we cannot fly
These perfect places mock us, they leave us questioning our worth
I've jumped and tried to reach them, only to fall back to the dirt
I want to find a haven, I want shelter from this rain
But I'm nothing but a frail and fragile bird hitting window panes
I lie around and, with open arms, welcome my fate because I'll be a skeleton before I get to heaven if I keep moving at this rate
They're watching as I fly, only to crash back on the ground
And I've hoped for so much more than this, but all my thoughts are bound
I accept I'm being hunted, but I don't ******* care
I accept that I am dying, but I guess it's only fair
I beat these wings on shattered things that scar and rip apart my skin
I shield my eyes but still go blind from all these wrongs I try to hide
I build my foundations on rotting nations that will soon decay and put my hope in tattered ropes I wear as necklaces each day
I wail and shriek and cry when I can't hear that still small voice
But am I really truly listening when I keep drowning out the noise?

I am nothing but a sparrow, but I can't be worth more than they
When I cry and pull my hair whenever I receive another day

I'm a bird in it's flitting
Please unbend me
Natalie Jan 2018
I could tell you the exact day I became complacent
I can recall the way he parted his hair and the way he touched a steering wheel and the color of his eyes
And how he cared enough about me to make sure I didn't drink and drive
But not enough to stop mixing my drinks all night
And since I can't stand up for myself, he watched as I fell apart
I am a marionette with a broken string but ****, he's a master in the art
Constantly moving me; bending my frame and pulling my wires
And keeping me onstage whenever he desires
But it's hard for me to play my part and keep up with my lines
When I come home smelling like a different cologne each night
When I am just an empty canister he keeps bringing to his lips
Begging and pleading me to offer him something with purpose

But it's always the same story:
He fabricates me
I break and I bleed under his idea of my self discovery
And my selfish idea of recovery
Out of every sweet name or ***** word he's ever called me
I think I've found that "Lonely" is my favorite thing to be


I haven't lit a cigarette in weeks, but tonight I'll light three;
One for him, one for me, and one for the person I swore I would never be

Listen;
My biggest flaw is that when I settled for feeling comfortable,
When I settled for what he told me I was
I never even bothered learning self-love
Natalie Jan 2018
She saw God in the things like her morning creamer and the shape of the clouds during summer
But not much past that
Because when it came to showing love and giving people what they need
She wanted to sow a barren field without planting any seeds
She wore her faith around her neck instead of on her sleeve
If it wasn't for the Infant of Prague on her dresser and those Rosary beads
I would have no idea what it was she was trying to teach
All of them are unwilling to admit their imperfections
Because all the repercussions are held back by their holy impersonations
Their sins will never fade and their souls will never be saved and the devil won't be tamed
By her crucifix collection
I'm sure the Lord is much more forgiving than she made Him seem
She takes every communion drop and lets it fester poison in her bloodstream
God turned the water to wine that made its home in my lungs
And while He took away the rain, it still made me flood
Because knowing I made it through His downpour wasn't good enough
My hands are folded in a prayer, but they're covered in my blood
Praying that He will come to my pity party and fill me in on all I've missed
That He'll take me into His arms just so I can feel that He exists
But Satan has been writing my invitations and my Lords not on the list
So lets toast this wine that kills us and celebrate dying young
Because the devils watching me, and he's got a silver tongue
And of all these Bible stories, I don't know which part I prefer:
When Judas sold my God or kissed him when he left
Compared to silver coins, I dealt Him in for so much less

They'll hold their noses high and boast their goodness to the sky
I know that I'm not perfect, in fact, I'm who they criticize
They spit on me and cast me to the side
because those who sin differently are worthy of no pride

Her church may close its doors and throw me away
But it's okay
I don't want to worship like she does anyway

I still see God in the fall breeze and in the dying autumn trees
But not much past that
I'm writing love letter to my Saviour with a marker on red helium balloons
Each one holds an apology
I hope I hear from Him soon
Natalie Jan 2018
I have finally found my voice
Or at least, what's left of it
The voice you muffled behind a cotton tie and washed away with gin
The voice that crawled into your ears and crept behind your skin
The one that bit the bullet and the one that pulled the pin
The voice that was my greatest strength, but wasn't strong enough to sin
"Precious, I can see your veins, you've got to get a thicker skin
I know it's cold outside, but maybe if you'd behave, I'd let you back in."

I will scream into your face until my cheeks turn black and blue
I'm sorry darling, but I don't answer to you

How dare you keep my locked out and quiet while I freeze in the December breeze
I was never yours
And I never ******* will be

I don't talk much anymore
Natalie Jan 2018
Our nights of lying on the broken pavement and spilling ourselves into the cracks are over
But honestly, it may be better this way
Because at least now I'm not dreaming up ways of how to fill in the spaces between the concrete and the grass
And you're not scratching up your elbows on the pebbles and the glass
I know you've cut your hands a few times, but now I'm not stuck cleaning up the mess
Don't think I haven't noticed your cologne pressed into her dress
I've seen her love letters in your pillow case and her silhouette
Gliding awestruck on your curtains
I wish I was as beautiful as every word her mouth has ever spoken
I've seen more of her lipstick on her teeth than I've seen on your neck
I bet she shows more love to glass bottles than she ever could to you, except
At least the alcohol can give her some kind of bliss
The smell of wine on her breath is the venom in her kiss
You think she knows love, my dear, she's simply brushing the tip
of it

Because with me, you were more than happy to get your feet wet, but I think it would have drowned you to dive in
I knew you were never strong enough to swim

I was a language
You never bothered to learn how to read
And I was a dance without a song
And you couldn't follow me

But we are just so different, her and I
She dances on the moon and she shakes hands with the stars
Shes a bustle in the city and the mystique in passing cars
And love,
I could never compete with that kind of art

I guess it's true
That one mans trash is another mans treasure
And you are the soil of the earth that endured my violent weather
You are the ground that holds me, but the wind that severs
And I would ask for it to be different, but I could never question Mother Nature
But I will always question why I am
The way I am

I know you'd rather feel her nail marks in your back than me drawing down your chest
You'd rather hear her drunken laughter than the whispers on my breath
I hope you'll realize there more lipstick on her mirror than there is on your neck
And I can't help you then
I won't wait forever
I'll let you handle the rest

You'll go on living
I'll go on breathing
But if you ask me, dear
Those aren't quite the same thing
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