"atelophobia" poems
I stand before the mirror, circling everything I wish I could change.
Before long, there's more marks on my body than freckles on my face.
It's funny how you could tell me I'm beautiful, and I'll quickly forget.
But a simple 'you're ugly,' will forever be implanted into my head.
I keep my gaze down in front of strangers, terrified they'll see what I see.
My eyes are two open windows to the doubt and insecurity.
Maybe if I just smile, play along, pretend I'm alright,
nobody will suspect those are my cries they hear at night.
And I can't help but wonder what it's like to be pretty.
To make guys stop and stare, tall, tan, and skinny.
To throw on anything and walk with confidence out the door,
instead of trying on 13 different outfits and wondering why you try for.
Why doesn't God listen to me when I beg him to be someone new?
Just live in another's skin, is that so hard to do?
For a day, that's all I need, I want to see what it's like,
to not be the one who stares at her reflection and cries.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 5:46 AM UTC
I am the first page of a well-loved novel,
But often the first one ignored,
Dog-eared and transparent at the corners
From the touch of one too many hands
And witness to the enterprising twist of a smile
As my readers are privileged to only pieces of me.
You, like the binding that surrounds me,
Enclose and encircle all that I am. Write a novel
Under my skin. I’ve falsified too many smiles,
Sacrificed even the best of myself for ignorant
Delusions of caressing hands
That take and abuse my corners.
The used bookstore on the corner
Of Middlebury Marbleworks, Otter Creek and window-origami —
My salvation and river-penance. Seek my story with hands
That feel to comprehend, with novel
Softness and a tenderness that ignores
My pleading glances and indecisive smiles
As you speak in hush-whispers. Smile
With your eyes as you touch my spine — corner
Me at the exit. I want you to ignore
Faults, make peace with flaws that inhabit me
Like poetry misplaced within a novel,
Or willow branches falling too low, tired hands.
I memorized the shape of your hands
The first time we danced to Chaplin’s “Smile,”
And wrote on the broadness of your shoulders a novel
Of my sins, apologies stretching to your corners
In villanelles — repeating refrains. It took all of me
To tell you what I could no longer ignore.
Because once you start to ignore
Conflictions that exist in the nerve-endings of your hands,
What you feel becomes a burden. For me,
Sand ran out of the hourglass when our smiles
Stopped touching — and at the corner
Of Maple Street and Printer’s Alley, I said goodbye, our novelty
Gone. Still, I find it hard to ignore what used to be when you smile
As you look at her, your hands on her back in the corner
Of the room. You remain my unfinished novel.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
She was the girl
The girl with paper skin
The girl with chocolate eyes
The girl with autumn hair
She was the girl
The girl with a porcelian heart
The girl with a wounded head
The girl with a soaring soul
She was the girl
The girl with fragmented dreams
The girl with starlight memories
The girl with clouded yesterdays
She was the girl
The girl who used broken vases
The girl who used flower bandages
The girl who used yellow books
She is that girl
That girl with her tic-tac-toe skin
That girl with her malleable feelings
That girl with her guarded past
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
Don't discard me
like a seashell
with a blemish
yes
I'm cracking
of course
I'm crumbling
no amount of polishing
will sand away the bits
of me
you'd rather not deal with
Again
and
again
I am picked up
examined
and thrown away
always falling short
never the right shade
or shape
Forlorn
in the sand I await
unable to unsee
everyone
but
me
being chosen
One day
as the sun sets
I let myself release the childish
dream
that I was enough for
them
that they were enough
for
me.
-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 8:22 PM UTC
Girls like me are taught to treat our bodies like metaphors, we are taught that we can only be desired if we are oceans and hillsides, if we are Septembers and sinkholes. They paint us, all sunset eyes and nicotine, hoping to color us in with their washed out words, so that maybe we can mean something. We are taught to fold into ourselves, to shrink our waists and our voices, that being small minded will compensate for the space that we take up. We are taught to apologize for the space that we take up. Girls like me have to be thankful to the stranger who comes and dares to want us, as if we’re only worth our weight in love poems, as if he’s doing me a favor with his wandering hands. Girls like me fill our heads with shipwreck and sorry’s, hoping that this time it’ll be different. That this time, for once, love might be blind. That this time, for once, we can be enough. Girls like me are afraid of being enough. Because maybe if I think of my body as anything more than a graveyard, your ghost hands will find somewhere new to rest.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
it rained the day after Christmas and
you said you’d prefer snow.
it reminded me of London
so I kept my mouth shut and pushed your hands
further between my legs.
“eat my pineapple,” I instructed
as the *** coated my tongue.
“carry me through
the tiki bar and do pushups in the empty
space while I brush my lips on your temple.”
we were married on the corner
of Queen and Dunn;
our officiant on one knee, clad in blue knit
I
never thought I’d be here.
across oceans you recessed
further into my insomniac brain.
your eyes are green, right?
turn around:
it’s less romantic if there’s no eye contact.
track our distance across my sternum --
I’ve never been to Azerbaijan.
I took advantage of the fact that you were wearing black
and forgot to outline my
shape in chalk.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
I'll pull, pull you close until you can't breathe
I'll watch you lose your mind trying to seize
I'll push, push you until you're lost with no means
Finding me only in your dreams
You caught a glimpse of my heart
Why, oh why have I gone this far?
You pulled, pulled me apart until
All that was left were my uncontrollable thoughts
You pushed, pushed me until I was gone
Leaving me only with memories that only haunt
Too scared to stop, too scared to let go
Running infinite circles
Planting daises along our broke road
There she waits with a rose in her hand
But the other around your neck
Surprised and relieved
Hers was all he'll ever be
I dug up our daises and gave them to her instead
"To you and your addicted lover"
And away she led
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
You never gave me any closure
You left before I could even say goodbye
All my tears were wasted on the thought of you,
The thought that I wasn’t good enough.
Atelophobia, they call it; the fear of imperfection
Or thinking you aren’t good enough.
Making it harder for you to have relationships.
You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you.
I thought it was my fault you left
But in reality you left, because
You weren’t willing to put in the effort to stay.
Leaving the burden to fall onto me.
I wanted you to stay
I wanted you to love me
But you had other plans in mind
Leaving was easier for you.
I fell in your trap
Believing that you loved me
But it was all a lie
Making me think it was all my fault…
You said you didn’t want to hurt me,
But you still continued to walk out the door
It took me months to finally see,
That you were not the one meant for me.
The sharp, bitter taste of alcohol burns my throat,
But it numbs the pain for a short while.
It helps me forget
But you’re the one thing that stays on my mind.
They call it liquid courage
Because it give you an excuse
To do and say all the things you couldn’t while sober
I constantly think of texting you,
What I would say, what I would do.
I thought about what I would reply if you were to text me first
But it never happened, so I lay here with a constant thirst.
I needed a reason to justify sending you the texts
That I am sure I will regret in the morning
But it still doesn’t stop me now
So I take another drink.
As I sit here hazed
And waiting for a reply, that I’m not sure will come
I think “why wasn’t I good enough”
“What more could I have done?”
– Liquid Courage // F.C.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 2:19 AM UTC
When I stare into the mirror, do you know what I see? I look into my eyes and see the stranger things about me.
So many stories and tears that I've obtained over the years are starting to show, I fear, and affect the ones I hold dear.
Why do I have to have these emotions and feel so much? Like my heart starts off lightly touched then it turns into a clutch feeling like it's in a death grip and such.
My atelophobia has me seeing like myopia, breathing like pneumonia and sleeping like insomnia.
There's no question that because I lie to myself about how I feel is part of the progression to my depression and aggression deeply compressed in my expressions; I'm in need of an intercession.
This reflection staring back at me reveals my imperfection; with close inspection, you can see the connection of affection and infection in the projection of my eyes complexion.
My silence is my loudest cry and I don't know why that I lie when I say it's because I'm shy; the only reply I rely on.
But when someone takes a peep through the peephole, I feel a loss of control when they see a part of my soul that has taken it's toll and is no longer whole begging to be consoled.
The heaviness of this emptiness isn't for pity; it's loneliness in the form of poems and lyrics since I'm left breathless and can't speak about this restless craziness.
Mirror, mirror staring straight at me, is happiness in the near future something you can foresee? Can you please guarantee that I will be set free from the misery?
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
I find myself here again
Staring at the wall
Lost in the thoughts that plague me
****** I here from my own mind
Loser, trampling through my thoughts
Give up know
Your no more than **** anyway
I light a cigarette
Yah I think im cool
Not really
Im just and infant in a grown world
A glass boy
A fragile existence
God do you hear me
I know you cant
Why do I try
You only help the good
That’s not me
It never was
I see the dance
But yet I don’t know the moves
Masks are for children
Then I must be a child
Playing hide and seek
Alone
I feel the water over me
Cascading into red
What would they do without me
Live that’s right
Go on, happy
He did say much anyway
Who’s that boy in the background?
Oh him, he’s just a pawn
He’ll be gone soon
Just wait and see
He hold up space for know
Tell someone good comes along
Don’t even try young man
You’ll never succeed
Just play your games
Let the men handle the job
Its no place for you
Go back to your books
No one will love you
Look at yourself
A shell of a person
A drone of some sort
Just another **** in the grass
Waiting to be mown
Don’t try and speak
It’s not like we’ll listen
What a pretty song
To play at your funeral
Make the others look good
Yah that’s your places
Don’t try to be gold
Even copper out shines you
Your more like a rock
Just made to be kicked
Roll down the hill
So the river can swallow you whole
Don’t move a muscle
Lay their and take it *****
Its what you deserve
Don’t try to leave your place
You worked so hard to get there
Don’t you like what you have achieved
All your work has paid off
Your alone and patatic
Like you knew you always were
Just a sad reflection
In a world of mirros
You could’ve been great
That’s a lie
Don’t strive for love
Its just out of your reach
Your hideous to the eye after all
He just wants your body
No one wants your heart
Its cold and dark
So know youll ended it
Good for you
Just take the razor and go a head
Oh before you do
You know its all ********
Really kid get over yourself
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
An empty cup and an empty heart,
No longer pumping blood,
But allowing sadness to numb,
Flowing through the veins,
Until it reaches the mind,
Leaving its mark ever so slightly,
A mind left imprisoned,
And a struggle with atelophobia,
And thoughts of am I good enough?
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
Get out of my head
Please
Stop ruining my life
Creating up little lies and scenarios
Forcing me to believe them.
Atelophobia along with my anxiety and depression that controls my everyday life.
I depend on that one small pill to keep me happy and sane
My brain is so ****** up that I cry for no good reason without it.
I miss one day, and I break.
No reason for me to snap, no reason for me to cry, no one can tell me why I randomly developed this mental issue that runs my whole life.
Let me love someone for once without being doubtful.
Let me love someone without a fear of being thrown out.
But maybe it's just trying to protect me,
So that I don't get any worse.
Get out of my head.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 8:09 PM UTC
It’s 5:44am
and I’m afraid
of not being enough for you.
I’m afraid of not being enough
to caught up your attention
to cultivate your feelings.
I’m afraid to turn into
someone in your life
that was just another friend
with feelings for you.
I’m afraid that
you’ll never look at me
like i look at you.
Cause when we’re together
touching each others faces late at night
I feel safe.
But when i wake up in the morning
and you’re on the other side of the bed
I’m just afraid.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 8:17 PM UTC
I am wearing a pink plaid skirt,
but I think it’s too short,
maybe my huge thighs are ruining it.
Oh my god, he is looking at me, but maybe not me, maybe he is looking at the hot chick beside me, after all why would he look at me, the payjama wearing nerd.
People call me slim, I am not slim. It’s called skinny. Look, my bones are showing from every side of my body.
Oh my god, this top is so beautiful but I can’t wear it, it’s too shot and my tummy will be peaking out.
“NO”
Just two words-
APPRECIATE YOURSLEF
This fear is what makes you imperfect, not the way you look, or talk, or walk.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 2:47 AM UTC