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Violet Jul 2014
I am a chubby girl
And when I sit on busses
And hear the people behind me laugh
My heart skips a beat
I am a chubby girl
And when it rains
I am paranoid people think
I am wearing a sheet not a coat
I am a chubby girl
And when I walk
My thighs jiggle and
Sometimes they clap
I am a chubby girl
And when I see a shop
Assistant mutter I curse
My size
I am a chubby girl
And when they shout their words
Leaving needle marks
Instead of punctuation
I cry
I am a chubby girl
And skipping dinner just
Made me hate myself
I am a chubby girl
And throwing up just made
The pain come out
I am a chubby girl, wait
I am a girl
And I am beautiful
I love my body like my mother
Loved my baby cheeks
Like I should ve done
From the start
Violet Jul 2014
love is not kissing the boy who made you cry
and saying
it is okay
love is not between your legs or the style of your hair
or pressing bruises tight
with despair
love is reading memories of our life
in the lines from your smile
waking at aged sixty five
next to you
Violet Jan 2015
i need to get drunk and i need my bones to show and i need to take pictures in my cutest lingerie and turn boys into yes men and i need to forget all the shadows that you showed me and i need to travel the world and i need to kiss strangers and my best friend and i need to ****** everyday and i need to forget your stupid smile and i need to sleep until 4pm and i need to go to sleep at 6am and i need to waste away days and i need to binge watch movies and i need to work out 2 hours everyday and  i need to forget the colour of your eyes and i need to get rich and i need to get pretty and i need to lose weight and i need to tell my boss to go **** herself and i need to love myself more and i need to look in a mirror and blow a kiss to the fine ***** looking back and i need a colder heart and i need warmer hands and i need to be happy and let me tell you this

i don't need you

but i do
(it's supposed to look like that - I'm not illiterate I promise)
Violet Nov 2015
this is an open letter to anyone who has the audacity to try and love you like i did.

dear whateverthefuckyournameis,

i apologize in advance for spilling my boiled blood on the hem of your skirt. what you need to understand, is that you are standing on ground previously reserved for my feet, so forgive me for any bitterness that seeps through the cracks in my clenched fists. i don't hate you, but i can't be your friend. you probably don't know about me, and if you do, let me commend your bravery. i have a tendency to set my problems on fire, and in my bouts of anger everything looks flammable, especially girls with paper complexions. i'm sorry. i have never been one to walk away, so i don't know how to explain to you the holes in the bottoms of my shoes. but i have been further than you will ever go. this is not supposed to be an angry letter, but lately that's the only thing coming out of me. i don't even know your name but the thought of your hands reaching for him makes we want to break them. i will douse your dreams in gasoline and strike the match against your cheek. but i know that's not right, see, the poison crawling out from the end of my pen belongs to a scarier version of myself i try not to know. my heartache is an insatiable war cry in the dead of night, that will stop at nothing to shatter all your windows. it shames me to admit that i've found a sort of twisted satisfaction in using passive aggression to breach your armor. i am sick with missing a set of arms i was not privileged enough to know. i speak with all the grace of an atom bomb and wonder about the rubble at my feet. you are white picket fence and i am barbed wire. some girls are lions, some are lambs, and i learned to love, teeth bared and snarling. one of the only things that keeps me going is the hope that one day i'll learn how to love something without making it bleed. i may have never been his, but for a time he was mine, so please understand why i taste acid when i think about your mouth on his. again, i am sorry. i know it is not my place to be so full of resentment, but there is a part of me that sincerely hopes it bothers you to know he dreamt of me before you were even a thought. there is a side of me that thrives on the image of the color being drained from your face when you read this. but i am trying to learn how to be softer. this letter is the manifestation of a self-inflicted war that has been raging in my chest since he first told me about you. you will try to be good to him, and you might even succeed. if you ever find yourself singing him to sleep, like i did, don't ask if he wants to hear another song, just keep going until his breathing slows.
Violet Jul 2014
i'm tired of the feeling here - it's too near to death and the thing is
girls like me well
we've spent our adolescents flirting with death and
i think people can read it on our skins
"everyone dies at some point" it's our destiny
but there's an expiration date marked on my skin and that I can't see
and people can't name
but we all know it's there
in the corner of their eyes they catch a glimpse
a pattern of numbers and dashes and clocks ticking
closer
and closer
girls like me - we spent our lives reaching
blind to everyone who meets us
i don't know what im doing with my life anymore
Violet Jul 2014
it's never you he will remember it was her
he was a car crash
and you were an unreturned library book
he caused thousands in damage
you; a late fee
she was EMT's and flashing lights
and bandages and scar kisses
she was storm clouds and
lightening strikes and screaming between sheets
and you were condensation
on shower ceilings and crackling
speakers in beaten up cars with roll up windows
you were floral patterns and pastel shades
and grey socks and tidy bedrooms
you were studying hard and drinking with friends
you were beach trips and family photo's
and B grades
you were wavy hair, no make up pyjama sundays
she was studs and torn denim and
laddered stockings and lace up boots
she was binge drinking and pill taking all alone
she was road trips and  broken frames
and "I didn't finish College" grades
she was last nights make up and strangers clothes sundays
she was hushed whispers and angry words
and 100 things you did wrong today
you are child hood friends and same class time to graduate
she is loud and grubby and free
you are shy and calm and soft
you are memories and happy dreams
she is crying in the middle of the night and aching touches
she is broken fingers and hearts
you are bashful smiles and spring clouds
you are april showers and she is winter downpours
your touch is sacred
her touch is a fabrication of a half-dream
just chemicals and adolescent love
you were 2 kids, suburban homes
you were safe
she was fear
you were alive
she was living
Violet Sep 2014
I have two things to tell you,
the first is that I'm sorry
and the second is that, I tried.
I'm supposed to be studying right now
but instead I'm here.
I'm tired of pretty words
and metaphors and subtext.
(I finished my book yesterday)
It's one big fat ****** up cliche
**** your punctuation.
**** your grammar
**** your spelling
I worked so hard to make something beautiful
but it is ***** and ugly and useless
and it all fell apart somewhere around
chapter six because I lost my train of thought
because you were laughing about something
on the other side of the room
and I saw your hair move before I heard your mouth
move
and then we were kissing
i don't even remember moving just that
suddenly you and i were connected
and then you were hissing and spitting and
pushing me as if we were eight years old
in a playground instead of eighteen
and surrounded.
i want to smoke a cigarette but my stomach is aching
just thinking about that mistake
i dont regret a thing
Violet Oct 2014
"i used to be pretty"
until you left me used up and sad and drunk
perpetually waiting by the phone for you to pick up
and tell me that i was worth something
i know girls like me, we are low rise
gold eye shadow and binge drinking
we are nicotine breath and storm cloud eyes
and glass shard touches
we are /ugly pretty/
im tired of the feeling here it's too near to death
Violet Oct 2014
i wrote these poems about two different boys
past and present
maybe i jinxed it and that's why
everything's going wrong
something's always wrong
anything i say is wrong
cheap tobacco and ugly words and sharp edges
i don't want to die anymore and that's worse because at least when i wanted to die i found comfort knowing i had a backup plan
but now im stuck gasping thinking i was gonna be some one
and growing everyone always does
Violet Oct 2014
i guess you just didn't love me anymore
//please don't be in love with someone else
Violet Oct 2014
"why is your lip all cut up?"
it's because if the sadness got a hold of me
and if i felt so desperate that i kissed another, it'd
hurt and i'd condition myself the only mouth that eased the ache
was yours
Violet Oct 2014
i know your face like the back of my hand
and please don't even get me started on the rest of you
you can't build a person up like this
and then break them down
change your mind
"burned out flames should never reignite"
but i've never been the type to take my own advice
Violet Oct 2014
and i am still waking up at 3 am as if i can still hear you breathing
next to me
but you're not there and the bed is cold on the side where you slept
only when it is dark and the house is still to i let myself
be surrounded by things that remind me of you
your ***** pyjama top and that stupid ******* sweater
my pillow still smells off you so i singed the edges when i was drunk
and it's just another thing to add to the list of things i regret
5 days // please don't have somebody else waiting on you
Violet Oct 2014
wish i was kissing you instead of thinking about you
Violet Nov 2014
do you know how hard it is with people asking me left right and centre
won't stop saying your name
and i have to explain that you still love me but not the same
and when i tell them you left me they look at me so incredulously
"he doesn't know what he's missing"
but the thing is neither do i
Violet Sep 2014
her name was el or at least that's what people were telling me
and i was shivering on the beach the day after
and no one thought to call me
Violet Oct 2014
when did we stop?
caring - i mean, i saw it long before you did
(please don't see me)
i miss you more
(i can't stand you)
i love you
(if you leave me i might die)
what im trying to say - is where did we set the limit
where how much pain was okay to share?
Violet Oct 2014
there is a certain hue of violet that has a taste
you were shadows and colours and crisp
menthol like a cigarette freezing my lungs out
every time you kissed me
Violet Oct 2014
i think about the way your lips taste from time to time
when im lying awake and i can choke down the guilt
because i belong to another boy and it might break his heart if he ever knew
but my heart is made of steel
only breaking when i choose it to
and sometimes late at night when i think about the scars on your upper arm and the ones that spelt constellations on your neck
reminding me of galaxies hiding in your skin
i try to remember your lips on mine - but i've forgotten the way you t-t-taste and
if your lips are pink or red and if the last time we ever kissed they were dry or sticky with something other than us
i was drunk with eyes rolling and tears threatening, put off spirits
i feel sick when i think about you and all those things we did and didn't do and i don't regret a thing -not a single ******* second
but sometimes i swear i still wear the tear stains on my cheeks and the bruises on my ribs
and i lay awake staring at ceilings thinking about your skin on mine from time to time
i cant choke down the guilt because i belong to a boy and i let him press his skin against mine and if he ever reads this i think he will be done
with me and my permanent storm clouds and shaking palms because sometimes broken things aren't worth fixing
and you made me into one of those
Violet Oct 2014
i used to kiss girls
and i used to kiss other boys
then we started kissing each other
i bet i tasted like glass shards yet you told me
i tasted like butter toffee and dish soap
and somewhere - can't pinpoint when -
i believed you and
forgot what the difference was
Violet Oct 2014
seven was our lucky number
(i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you)
(i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you)
(i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you)
(i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you)
(i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you)
(i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you)
(i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you)
not so lucky anymore
Violet Oct 2014
little did i know sadness was contagious
and by the time i did it was too *******
late
Violet Oct 2014
these are getting old
im trying to sound like someone else when im writing
(don't you think that's ******* stupid?)
not like when we made forts out of each others arm
and slept safely
(no one sleeps cuddling; it's hot, it hurts, it's uncomfortable)
but we did.
took anything to fix the pieces inside
(broken hearts and homes and rivers of hormones)
and my eyes the desert where the crows find their homes
dry eyes of days like today
(when everyone wants a slither)
and im tired - don't want to pretend
Violet Oct 2014
who will fix me now
"i don't need you to ride in on your white horse and save me, i'm not broken - i don't need fixing."
but that doesn't stop me thinking
if i wasn't saving your soul - then you were saving mine
only want to ******* and then ******* up
//don't let me drown
Violet Sep 2014
sometimes broken things don't get to be fixed
and im sorry but it's just another thing to add to the list
about "why we broke up"
Violet Oct 2014
im a useless excuse of a human being
im tired of being sad
and im changing everyday
because i promise someday
i can make myself feel alive
and i can't promise i'll be everything i need
but i'll give myself everything i've got
i'm not the perfect girl
and i can't shake the feeling that
i can't get anything right
but i make a lovely mess
and how can people pin their happiness
on another person when they can't even love themselves?
can i give you a piece of advice from somebody:
(who’s been through this a few times already)  
trust your gut
my biggest mistake was thinking someone else could fix me
only i can fix me
im going to spend my life trying to feel alive
whispering i am broken and a wreck
but i'll love myself until im dead
i am important.

— The End —