Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Bec Jul 2014
If Death came tonight, knocking at my door, asking for my hand,
I would not hesitate to go with him.
This place, this home, is not meant for everyone.
I will lock my fingers with his, cling tightly to his bones,
follow him anywhere.
This life has worn me down,
"tired" has become a part of who I am.
I refuse to stay here, perpetually sad.
I will go.

- R. H.
Bec Oct 2019
I breathe you in
like smoke.
You settle in my lungs,
my veins,
my soul.
I touch you
and I see things
no one else has seen.
You raise your feathered wings
and wrap me
in ecstasy.
You wipe away the rust
that covers me
from years spent living
in my own rain.
Every kiss is never
enough.
Every look is always too
short.
You've brought down the Heavens
and made a home for just us.
I pick the feathers from my hair
and make a crown fit for a Queen.
I will spend the rest of my life
learning to fly
by your side.
Bec Jul 2016
There have been theories
about the end of the world.
A giant fireball from the sky,
natural disasters,
a mutant virus.
But the truth is far worse
for I have seen it.
It's going to happen when
you awake one morning,
the warm, comforting body
that is usually next to you,
gone.
In their place, a note.
"I don't love you anymore.
I'm sorry"

It'll happen when
she takes her last breath,
the hand you've been desperately
clutching to
loosening in your grip.
When his mother calls you
at 3 a.m., crying,
and tells you that she found her baby,
your best friend,
lying on the red bathroom floor.
It'll take you a minute because
you know that that floor
is white.
This is how the world ends,
neither with a bang or a whisper.
Art
Bec Jul 2014
Art
You sat with your canvas and
a rainbow of paint.
Though I was beside you, you were
alone
in that room.
I prayed you did not realize how strongly
I envied your brush; I could only
hope that one day
you would hold me like
that.

- R. H.
Bec Aug 2015
Gone.
You're all gone,
every one of you.
I don't know how
it happened.
I've been right here.
Did you not see me?
Because I saw you.
I saw you pass through
my life.
I was merely a
rest stop.
You were my destination.
It's never been easy for me to make friends and suddenly, the few good ones I thought I had, have decided to move on from me. I'm so lost.
Bec May 2014
I cannot recall how many days since we've met
But this is the first thing I've ever written about you.
So if you ever come to read it,
You'll know that I think about you every day
And I still can't seem to get out
Exactly how I feel about you
Because my vocabulary does not contain
That many positive words

- R. H.
Bec Sep 2015
Come home with me.
The empty side of
my bed has been calling out
for warmth.
Forever it seems
that I have been waiting
to share myself with you.
I already know how
perfectly my hand fits
in yours;
now I'm dying to see
how the rest of me
fits against you.
Come home with me.
Bec Oct 2015
When I met him,
he was two years younger
and at least twice as thin.
I wanted so badly what
I couldn't have.
The first time he kissed me,
I thought maybe I was wrong.
Why couldn't it have stopped at
kissing?
He wanted to touch me,
to run his hands over my skin.
He understood when I told him "no",
but he didn't get it.
I loved him,
and I was terrified to be seen by him.
Underneath my clothes is not
a skinny girl, like maybe
he expected to find.
God, do I love him,
so I will not let him love me.
Bec Jul 2014
I've read a lot of words about
people who make
flowers grow in the deepest
parts of others. But you,
you lit a fire in me and now
I am burning.
Instead of petals at my feet,
there are flames in my wake.
And every touch is another hot
coal upon my skin and
I have never seen more
beautiful scars.

- R.H.
Bec Mar 2016
Mom left; the sight of you
was beginning to **** her.
But you held so
tight to a rope that
was burning through
your palms.
You called it "trying",
but all you wanted was
to drown her with you.
When she cut the weights
tied to her ankles,
you had the next pair
lined up for me,
"Dad loves you" inscribed
on each.
But I've found that
the term 'father' is not
synonymous with love.
I could fall into the arms
of a stranger, tell everyone
I know what love is.
You say I'm lucky,
that I got your green eyes,
but you and I will
never see the same.
Some days I'd rather I were blind.
Bec Jun 2014
I am not your tattered sweatshirt that you keep in the back of your closet,

The one you wear only when you get high.

I am not the too small pair of jeans that you keep around,

In hopes that one day you'll fit back into them.

I am not your ***** running shoes that you keep on a shelf in your room,

The one’s that make you sad every time you look at them because you did not win that race.

You will wear me with pride, or not at all

- R. H.
Bec Aug 2014
I have met people who have merely been band-aids
to every part of me that was broken.
Then I met you
and your words were like a needle and thread.
While I may not heal perfectly, I was healing.
You haven't spoken to me in days and
those stitches have been ripped out before
my wounds were completely bearable.
You know I only wanted you to be happy.
I thought you wanted the same for me.
I wrote this from the perspective of a close friend who fell in love with a girl who was in a relationship. He knew she'd never leave her boyfriend, so he was content to just be her friend. Her boyfriend no longer lets her speak to my friend.
Bec Jul 2014
This is my white flag and
I surrender with every ounce of me.
I refuse to fight you anymore;
this battle cannot be won.
Because this war in my mind
is never ending
and I am the only soldier left standing.
I am certain that the smoke will never clear
and I have become terrified of what
has made it's home within it.
Please, do not send help,
I've given up on my own terms
and I will lose graciously.

- R. H.
Bec Jun 2014
You said,

"Tell me something amazing"

And all I could think of

Was to describe you

Exactly as you are

- R. H.
Bec Aug 2014
I put you on the highest pedestal
before I even knew you.
I saved every sweet text you sent me,
but soon realized that I never once
heard anything of the sort
come from your mouth.
I have been yours for months now;
you have not wanted me even for a day.
I cannot remember where you were when I
was ready to give up on myself.
But I know exactly where I am now,
and I am giving up on you.
Bec Dec 2014
Do not cry
You'll ruin your make-up
Bec Jun 2015
Don't tell me I'm pretty.
I'm not interested in hearing
how beautiful you think my eyes are,
or how you could listen to my
voice for hours.
I don't need gentle, sweet or kind.
Instead I'll be begging for bruises
on my thighs and scratches down my back,
fingertips pressed into my throat.
Make me completely give in to
your artificial affection.
I need to know this isn't real.
Bec Sep 2014
Now I am seen begging for help
because I cannot tell if it's love,
or if I am just so ******* lonely that
I have confused poison with the taste of vanilla.
Like a dear friend, I constantly welcome the
harsh bitterness that you bring, and it seems that
I am blind to a game that everyone else sees you playing.
Please, if I do crash, do not let me burn.
Bec Feb 2015
I am 16
And I have found love in a
boy who is 5 years older than me.
He tells me he loves me and I
lose myself in him.
He breaks my heart, twice.
We still keep in touch.

I am 20
I have found love in a girl
with curly blonde hair and eyes
like the sea. She holds my hand
and sings to me, kisses my forehead.
We haven't spoken in a year.

I am 21
I think I have found love.
He doesn't acknowledge what we
are in public and he thinks insulting
me is funny. He kisses me like he loves me
though, so I tell myself it's enough.
He moved miles away; I think he was
just as lonely as I was.

I am 22*
She's the one. Her hair is never
the same color and sometimes
she laughs too loud. She has scars
that she regrets, but she's doing
everything she can to keep going.
She is me, and I am in love.
Fat
Bec Jun 2019
Fat
Fat.
The word falls from your lips
like venom.
I know your throat burns every time
you say it.
I see the tears you try to brush off.
Fat.
Because what could be worse, right?
You could be mean,
or selfish,
or violent.
But no, you had to be
Fat.
If only you knew the years I've spent
learning to love every single inch of me,
teaching myself that "fat" is not a
curse word.
Years spent undoing long nights
that I've stayed awake,
sobbing,
praying to every god I knew
that I could wake up and be
skinny.
You tell me I am beautiful.
You promise me
that you have eyes for
no one else.
But I know your eyes lust for
thin.
Bec Sep 2015
Most people are afraid of
spiders, clowns, thunderstorms;
the usual.
But if you asked me
what my greatest fear is,
I would speak of nothing
but your name.
Because what would I do,
who would I be,
should one day
you decide that you're
over me?
Bec May 2014
I’m sorry if

My words aren’t always

Honey and lavender

Most days they’re burnt

And the scent of smoke

Hugs them like a worn coat

- R. H.
Bec Jun 2014
Our first date,
you took me back to your place
and I stretched myself out
on your air mattress.
You refused to sit,
wanting to stand a bit longer so you could
watch the way I moved.
You played guitar and sang for me
and it was so unbelievably cliche,
that I had to kiss you in the middle of your song
because I needed you to know how happy I was.
I cannot count how many times your lips
found my cheek that night.
You were perfect
and I was a sucker for dark hair
and blue eyes.

- R. H.
i considered this our first date. he always tells me he considers our first date to be the time he took me out to dinner after he came home from his trip, which was a few weeks before this, before i even knew he liked me.
Bec Nov 2015
Drowning wouldn't be
awful. Holding your breath,
trying to stay alive - that's the
killer. But after that? Darkness,
silence. Calm. Peaceful actually.
Not so bad.

Burning. Just a warm hug.
A warm hug that doesn't want
to stop hugging. Imagine something
loving you that much?

How about a bullet?
Straight into the bullseye
you've painted on
your head. So quick.
Less painful than the life
that you're convinced you're
not really living. Messy though.

I still chose life.
I will always choose
to keep living.
This is pretty messy, sorry. I've just been thinking a lot lately about how death used to consume my thoughts. As hard as things get for me, I am so glad I chose to live
Bec Sep 2015
If love is blind,
then may I never see again
Bec Jul 2020
The first time I said the words
"I love you",
was not the first time I told you I loved you.
The very first time
was when you had come home from work.
I didn't hear from you
for a couple of hours.
Not entirely unusual, but you know me,
I'm a worrier.
You finally texted me and after a brief exchange of words,
you asked me to call you.
Of course I did without hesitation; calling you had become
my favorite part of every day.
You told me you had been crying.
Really crying.
I remember the feeling in my stomach,
the immediate urge to run to where
you were,
to wage a war against whatever it was
that had caused you that much pain.
To hold you.
Verbally, I've never been good with words.
I wanted to say so much.
I could have said it then.
After a drawn out pause, I told you
"I want to take care of you".
Maybe you knew,
maybe you didn't.
I think my heart knew before I did
that I loved you.
But I meant it then, more than anything.
Still do.
Bec Aug 2015
I have lost complete control.
I waved goodbye as
it left. Now you have
overwhelmed everything that I do,
everything that I say. Please,
make me a better me
than I ever could.
Everything that I am
is in your hands
and all I'm asking
is that I can stay.
Bec Aug 2014
It's funny because
I loved you and
you always told me that
you loved me too,
but now it's her house you show up
unannounced at, just to surprise her.
So now I'm sitting here laughing
because I've realized that I am the
punchline to your favorite joke.

- R.H.
Bec Dec 2014
Relapse, n.
a return of a disease or illness after partial recovery from it*

I'm curious as to know if there is a limit here.
Whether or not after all these times
I can still call it "relapsing".
I can't seem to figure out if I have either
partially recovered,
or if what I deal with is a constant that
just takes breaks.
I refuse to place myself in the bubble
of the sentence or two of a
generalized description.
I have relapsed.
But I am so much more than that.
Bec Dec 2020
If I were a poet,
I could eloquently tell you
just how much
you mean to me.
Not with big, fancy words,
but beautiful ones,
the kind that would
perfectly describe you.
If I were a poet,
I could publish your worth.
Late night coffee shop walls
would sing their love for you,
and strangers would bond
over your perfection.
If I were a poet,
the world would see you
exactly as I see you,
and I'll fall in love
over and over again,
as many times
as you're read.
Bec Feb 20
I'm so sorry if
most of this
doesn't come out
how I want it to.
But it's almost been a year
and I so need you to hear
what I'm feeling,
so here goes nothing.
You know you're always in my head
and I could always go to church,
but you deserve my confession instead.
I never want another pair of hands to hold me
like you hold me.
And I don't ever want to laugh
the way I do with with you
with someone new.
I want the stupid fights
and sleepless nights
where we just stay up talking about nothing,
because to me that's everything.
Because to me, you are everything.
I want to share your bed
where we can both share what's in our head.
And make a home that's just for us,
God I need you to hear all this because
I love you more than anything
and no matter what tomorrow brings,
I'll still love you
more than anything.
Bec Jul 2014
This sickness sits like a hole
in my stomach
and I can feel it spread like wildfire
throughout my body.
From my shaking hands to the
vice around my lungs
preventing a steady breath,
it makes itself known and I can
focus on nothing else.
I cannot tell what has worn me down more;
the hand-over-the-mouth sobbing
so no one will hear,
or how every time I repeat "you will get through this",
I believe it less and less.

- R.H.
I honestly cannot count how many anxiety attacks I've ever had, but I am pretty sure that they're killing me.
Bec Oct 2014
I'm sorry that everything I've got left to offer
is either burnt or broken. But something inside me
has rotted away and the taste is now boiling up
and out of my mouth. Dripping off my tongue is
nothing but sadness and anger. I know the flowers
that were once woven into my teeth have withered
and died. An ugly thing has me wrapped tightly
in its arms and when I look at my reflection, I can
no longer tell the difference between the two of us.
Please forgive the fact that I can only curse coherently now;
it seems to be the only thing I can stomach.
things are ****** and i'm ******
Bec Jun 2014
******* and ****
her.
And every tattoo you have
to celebrate your perfect
relationship.
I guess 8 months mean more to some people than an upwards
of 5 years.
"You are my favorite human."
"No matter where we go in life, I will always love you."
"You will forever hold the biggest place in my heart."
Who knew that such a pretty face could conceal
so many lies?
So please forgive me if I no longer
wish you the best.
Apparently you've already got it.

- R. H.
my ex-girlfriend got a tattoo of the date her and her new person started dating. it was about a week and a half after she dumped me.
Bec Jul 2014
It's four in the afternoon
and
I have been drunk for two days.
I was hoping that
maybe
with blurred vision, I wouldn't have to
see your face in my
head.
Now, I cannot tell if this
nausea
is a side effect of the ***** or of
you.

- R. H.
Bec Feb 2016
I love you.
I love you.
This isn't working out,
we should go back to being
just friends.
We should jump to
not talking
and avoiding the inevitable.
"How's your girlfriend?"
"Ex."
"..Oh I'm so sorry."
I swear to God,
I'm going to miss you
for the rest of my life.
It's been like 3 years since she broke up with me and every now and then I still get ******* hung up on it.
Bec Dec 2014
I was so happy,
so high.
And just as I looked down,
I remembered my fear of heights
and I forgot how to land.
i go through spells where i'm unbelievably happy and then my anxiety comes on full force and i can't seem to figure out how to deal with it
Bec Nov 2014
My heart'll be the warmest bed you'll ever lie in
Bec Dec 2015
On Sunday mornings,
my father likes to leave for
church before he can see me
just getting home.
Cigarettes in the back pocket
of yesterday's jeans and another
strangers' fingerprints littered
across my body.
Do you pray for my soul, father?
While you're on your knees
at the pew, do you think about
the tears in the knees of my jeans?
Do you ask God why he has
burdened you with a
daughter like me?
The blank pages of the bible
you clutch will not save you
and my Holy Water cocktail
will not save me.
Bec May 2016
I get it, okay?
Everyone that knows you
thinks you're amazing.
Don't get me wrong,
you are.
But I will never know
what it's like to be
in your shoes.
Girls want you.
Guys want you.
You've been with more people
than I have friends.
I thought I had a chance
with him,
but then there you were,
getting him to tell you
that he thought you were
the most attractive person.
You come home from the mall
with bags of the hottest new fashions
yet complain when one store
doesn't have your size.
I leave empty handed,
"hot" does not coincide
with the size I wear.
The dressing room mirror
despises me.
All your other friends are
beautiful, flawless.
I am just a piece trying
to fit into the wrong puzzle.
I love you to death,
I always will.
But I really think that
I hate you.
Bec Mar 2016
You find that breathing
becomes impossible,
so you open your skin.
You distract yourself
from the ache that you
can't quite pinpoint, but
feel everywhere.
I know, I've been there too.
What I wouldn't give
to be able to take your hands
in mine, soothe the pain
we've both felt.
To wrap you in light when
all you beg for is dark.
This love I now carry
was saved for someone
like you, and how I'd
love to be the one to
save you.
Bec Jul 2018
My friend and I
talk about our depression
as if it were a
birthmark.
Been there as long as
we can remember,
but never really noticed it
until one day we did.
We make jokes about it,
fully realizing that we
are the punchline.
We share stories of
days spent crying alone,
like fond memories
of our happier childhoods.
Our mental illnesses
mesh so well together,
you’d think it was destiny
that we ended up in
each other’s lives.
My sadness has found
its soulmate
and I can tell
it’s going to be a
“together forever” kind
of love.
Bec Jun 2014
Yesterday, I gave the boy I love
a belated birthday present
from when he turned 24 on the 9th.
I found the perfect sized box,
a small grey thing.
My hands shook as I gave it away.
Inside would find him a single silver blade.
My blade.
I said to him, voice unsteady,
"This is my gift to you. This is my way of saying that I'm done."
He asked me if this was the blade.
It was.
I never knew that an object so light
could feel like the heaviest weight
lifted from my shoulders.

- R. H.
this is dedicated to my best friend. the only person who's ever cared enough to sit and talk to me about my self harming. his birthday was monday and i knew this would be the perfect gift.
Bec Dec 2020
I used to be stupid.
I would cash in my
pride like arcade tickets,
only able to pick from
the cheapest of prizes.
Selling my dignity on the weekends
like a reoccurring flea market.
Never made a dime and
more was taken
than I ever had
to offer, but ****,
I sure had his attention
so I figured I'd stay broke.
It wasn't until after I
had become his preferred
choice of currency
that I realized how
broke I was.
But you can't take somebody
to court and demand they
return what they stole
from you
when you know the judge
won't find any evidence.
I stayed silent
when my case was thrown out
and my request for a
restraining order against my feelings
was denied.
So **** it, I fired my lawyer
and defended myself.
I never needed a courtroom
to settle things anyway.
It was a quiet victory,
but I hope to god
it was screaming in your head.
Bec Jul 2018
When I’m sober I’m
so good,
so high on myself.
I talk to my friends and
I love that they love me
just the way I am.
But right now I’m drunk
and I’m falling in love
with all my exes,
all the people who are
poisonous.
I need validation
so I text boys who
I know will get off
on my words, on the
pictures I send them.
I have a whole list of their numbers
for nights like these.
I don’t even know
if they’d recognize me
in the morning.
I don’t even recognize myself
as I delete messages,
words, feelings.
No one will ever know
all the things I crave
if they don’t know me
sober.
Bec Jul 2014
If you think for one second that
I will let you back in,
just remember that everybody you meet
is not meant to stay.
And I thank God for that
because I will no longer take your
words that leave scars in my skin.
I refuse to be the villain of your story
that you are so convinced I am.
I have watched you burn down and you
can clear the wreckage on your own.
My structure will not falter
in your wake.

- R. H.
Bec Jul 2014
My mother always used to tell me
that I could read anyone.
"Give them an hour with you", she'd laugh,
"and you'd just know."
Then I met you
and it seems that your book is
written a language that I just don't understand.
This illiteracy is driving me mad
and I know I would spend years just to
decipher one page.

- R. H.
Bec Jul 2014
I count kisses in time with your heartbeat
thump thump
and I wonder if you notice the
slight uptick in mine,
every time you lean forward.
Isn't it nice how the simplest things
can make you feel so...
alive?

-R.H.
Bec May 2018
The first time
you said you loved
me, it was as if
I had been pulled aboard
a life raft after being
lost at sea. But
I see now that this
raft is littered with
holes and
we are sinking, but
you are convinced
that your love is a
teacup to scoop out
the water pooling around
my ankles and you will save
us, but the teacup has a crack
down one side and
do you see where I
am going with this?
A tablespoon of water
will never put out
a forest fire; I am burning
through acres.
Bec May 2016
My dear, I would swear
you fell from space.
Never have I met
a human quite
like you.  
Perhaps the rings of
Saturn no longer held
your interest.
The world here is
broken, but
I will walk with you
over the cracks and
show you that it
can be beautiful.
How lucky the stars
I thanked must have been
to get to know you
on this earth.
Next page