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 Oct 2014 Louise
Syd
october twelfth
 Oct 2014 Louise
Syd
it was the twelfth of october when I first formulated the theory that the world was composed of lines. tangible lines and invisible lines and every other kind of line that lies in between the two. the invisible line that seperates you and I from each other in your bed, two bodies and two heads and one line drawn thin between our skin. the lines around the outside of your eyelids and the scar on your jaw from when you were a kid. its a childhood landmark that parked itself on your face as if to try and keep it's place in the space time continuum of tragedy. the world is composed of lines in ways that everyone who's never seen the inside of your chest will never even know about. the wrinkles in your shirt and the creases on your palms are where I call home and your heart beat is my metronome and I swear I've never known anything greater than the line that's sewn your heart to my own.
 Oct 2014 Louise
Syd
I've got this theory
that at night my chest fills
with memories of you
and my lungs turn to steel
breathing is nearly as impossible
as it was to let you go
and I swear its like I'm inhaling your smile and exhaling smoke
that sits amongst the midnight atmosphere
in silent hopes
that this isn't real
clinging to the dark earth like dense
black fabric that can't help but to choke
on your name
there are some things that even time
can't manage to heal
and I think it was the first night
I overdosed on sleeping pills
that I drempt of you holding my hand
and pumping my veins full of your laughter
because only I knew that it was a high
no one but you and I
would ever fully understand
I woke up empty handed and stranded
in a foreign land where calendar days weren't named after the way
your voice cracked when we met
and hurricanes came from the coast
but I think they spilled out from under your tongue when you woke up at one a.m fighting my memories back down your throat and swearing to yourself that you didn't love me anymore
and I don't exactly know how to end this without washing up on the shore
of nostalgia and broken promises
being washed away by the relentless tide that came rushing out of your mouth
and sliding between your eyes
sometimes I can't tell if im choking on fire or water
but I'm drowning in the sea of losing you and burning on the thought
of you missing me
too
 Sep 2014 Louise
Syd
I guess I was always best at making messes of things like the inside of your chest or the rest of the world. its a lot easier than anyone ever tells you to become addicted to the sick and twisted feeling in your stomach when you hear things like "he lives with his grandparents now" or "she tried to **** herself in ninth grade". cracked ribs and broken hearts are not one in the same. one will always hurt far worse than the other and it's always the one that hospitals can't fix. white washed walls and sterile hallways filled with empty people waiting for their lives to change raspy breath and pale skin I remember going to the hospital as a kid and asking "are there people dying in there?" my mother never did give me an answer. the truth is, there are people dying everywhere. only the lucky ones make it to the hospital. the truth is people die on bathroom floors with a stomach full of pills and a fist full of love letters that will never be sent. people die over the phone choking on a throat full of apologies they'll never spill. people die popping sorrys like pills and swallong broken teeth by eating glass as if it were easier than saying I love you for the last time. we break ribs to make space for people who have no intention of staying and the last time I spoke your name was three days ago in a drunken haze lying on my back and shouting to the moon "I love you more" wishing that it was you I've screamed your name to the raining sky more times that I'd like to say but each day I find myself swallowing your promises and choking on the forevers you ensured me we'd spend together as if you ever even meant it
you didn't
and I can't even ******* breathe because its always been me lying on the bathroom floor with more pills than I should even know exist with a fist full of letters I'll never get to kiss and I still pick up the phone just to hear the busy tone and mumble apologies until I dont know what I'm saying and I'm swallowing ***** bottles and chewing on glass to make saying I love you for the last time feel less like living and more like dying
im dying
im dying
im dying
 Sep 2014 Louise
Syd
#YesAllWomen
 Sep 2014 Louise
Syd
yes all women

because people cringe at the word "feminism".
because I am not a feminist, I am a woman.
I am a human being.
because this poem is a one-sided sexist rant.
because I was fifteen years old when my mother first taught me about how to hold car keys as a weapon in case anyone ever attacked me.
because teenage girls are taught to never walk alone in a parking garage.
because in elementary school I was told to switch which side of the street I was walking on while going home if a man was approaching me in the same direction.
because when I was twelve my parents gave me my first cell phone for when I was out riding my bike, or taking a walk.
because I can't wear a spaghetti strap tank top to school, as it will "distract the boys".
because boys are distracted by a bony girl in a spaghetti strap tank top.
because freshmen girls are taught not to date senior boys, instead of senior boys being taught not to go after freshmen girls.
because senior boys go after freshmen girls.
because when I was ten years old I told my dad that my grandfather made me feel uncomfortable, and he got angry at me for making such a blasphemous statement.
because even after I told my mother, and she talked to my father, he ignored it completely.
because my grandfather made me, at ten years old, feel uncomfortable.
because when I was fourteen my boyfriend broke up with me since I "didn't put out".
fourteen.
because by ninth grade I had received my first unwanted and unwelcomed advance.
because I didn't tell anyone.
because school administrators turn the other cheek when a girl is ***** in the stairwell.
because **** charges are being dropped by judges.
because victims are being bullied into silence.
because a hashtag is the most sincere form of activism.
because **** is a crime no matter what color you try to paint the picture.

because I will go to bed tonight, after posting this poem, after telling my story, and I will wake up tomorrow.
and nothing will change.
 Sep 2014 Louise
Madison McCray
I never planned for my wrist to match
the color of my nails
nor did I expect myself to paint
the lungs of my own
my favorite shade of color
but like my father once said
when I was just a little girl
life goes on
one day my flesh will ly beneath
the ground you walk
and there will be little to no
memories left
of your name carved into my skin
or my blackened lungs
from the poison you taught me to love
it will all seem so distant
and one day
the existence of myself
will be nothing but a dream
to you and for I
 Sep 2014 Louise
Madison McCray
I never knew
the anger within my own
would find itself escaping
into the hours of daylight
when it's always hid
my feelings
are switching poles on me
where they used to be nocturnal
now I can not manage being awake
to walk these halls alone
my feet have become the most fragile part of my whole
and I cannot carry on
because dear
I am breaking without you
 Sep 2014 Louise
Syd
the invisible struggle that exists between wanting to write and not wanting people to know is named after you. late nights and sharpie scrawls on crumpled pieces of paper that will never see the outside of a trashcan. the insides of my eyelids and the paper slips kissed by dull pencil tips are the only ones who will ever know. 3 a.m is the closest thing I've ever had to a friend. the silence is deafening and sleeping is an impossible paradise because I belong on the opposite end of the world. somehow I know that no number of miles will suffice in the category of distance between our bodies. its been months but I still smell the alcohol on your breath that is a little too close to my ear. your hand by my thigh. a warmth on my neck that shouldn't even exist and I can hear myself saying no but my mouth isn't moving and I dont even ******* want to sit here and make rhymes about that night because you aren't ******* worth any of it. you aren't worth a ******* rhyme or a poem or a metaphor because you ruined *everything.
 Aug 2014 Louise
Madison McCray
pain has sank into the crevices of my soul & left me drowning because every bone in my body is traced with your name. melodies are screaming and I wish I was bleeding. I'd allow myself to drown from blood but not the weight of your name along the curve of my spine. my eyes are puffy and inside deflated. I've cried every ounce of water in my system and am expecting to die of dehydration while sailing my way out of this world in a river of tears of my creation. my insomnia has only grown worse and watching the sun rise every morning has become a tradition of bad habit because I dread for the hours of daylight where I can pretend I'm okay and draw a smile upon my face that is slowly becoming less innocent to the naive and more rebellious by the minute. but even pretending can go so far before you're entire fantasy comes crashing down and you're standing in the aftermath wondering, where the hell did I go wrong.
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