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Violet Crandall Jan 2014
Caraphernelia.
I understand the word at all times.
You left me things
that shutter my eyes.
And when I wake up,
there's too much light.
I stumble around,
trying to close the blinds.

Caraphernelia.
I comprehend it with all my might.
Bring me the things
that will cut open my soul.
And when I try to sleep at night,
I think of ways to make me feel whole.
But after my rest,
I forget my ideas and return to
the misery on my chest.
Carfaphernelia: A broken-heart disease whenever someone leaves you but leaves all their things behind.
Shanna Howse May 2012
You are the ghost that encompasses love; you possess my every thought.*

     Dust layers almost every object throughout each room of this small apartment. Beneath a white sheet, the dark brown, ragged couch is a perfect image of the haunting fear I hold inside.
     In the miserable corner lay your favourite red guitar. It is covered in a blanket of neglect; never again will it feel your calloused fingertips slide across the cracked fret board. Crop circles design the hardwood of where the other furniture once stood.
     I have yet to set foot in this room; it’s been months since the front room has ever felt sunlight. It’s been months since I’ve been able to cross the threshold where our relationship was at its peak, and wipe clean everything that we’ve left behind.
     I don’t want this to disappear, forever. Besides the memories that haunt me, this is all I have left of you. It hurts to look at this room, where we’d snuggle on the once healthy-looking and clean couch, watching our favourite black and white movies. I cannot part myself from this place where the memories still live.
     Our bedroom… the bedroom still holds the faint scent of your cologne that wafts through the house when a small breeze slithers through the window, opened slightly to rid the musty stench. A chamomile candle is lit there too, though it does nothing to sooth my nerves.
     I once took up drinking, but it always ended in passing out. I’d recover consciousness to the overwhelming stench of *****; my hair would be sprawled and stuck in a pool of it. It was a messy ordeal—I couldn’t understand why so many people turned to it to fix their problems. I dropped that immediately.
     Smoking created stress relief for a maximum of ten minutes, which would last me a trip to the grocery store. The smell stained my clothes, my hair, my apartment for what felt like months of cleaning could fix. That was only three weeks after everything collapsed.
     I’m clean, which is probably the least I can say for myself. I couldn’t touch your *****, beer, whiskey, cigarettes, lighters. I had to buy my own; all of your possessions were poison to the touch. I don’t know how you could so easily leave all of your belongings behind for me to look at every single day.
     I lay in bed every night, curled into a tight ball of discomfort in complete darkness. My mind finds it suitable to replay our relationship as a movie as I whimper softly. I am never able to sleep. Dark circles are prominent under my eyes.
     The happiest memories come first. When we moved into our apartment, it was small and *****, much as it looks right now. Happily, we cleaned it together, dancing and singing and giggling about. That was the happiest we’ve ever been. That was right after high school ended, when we were dating for two years. We were harmoniously in love, with no greater differences.
     Then the night we were engaged… You took me out to the garden overlooking Niagara Falls. That was my favourite place to go. The car ride was only twenty minutes from our apartment, but you were so eager to get there faster. The falls glowed a lovely spectrum of colors, while the mist rose above and blended with the explosion of fireworks.
     “Elise, you and I have been together since graduation. All through college, we were the happiest couple anyone knew. We’ve had our ups and downs—that’s a given—but lately, baby, we’ve only been going up. You’re my sweet, gorgeous, lovely girlfriend. I love you so much; I’d like to change that term to fiancée. Will you marry me?”
     A firework exploded as I smiled and jumped into your arms. Ever since you’d hinted this a few months earlier, and I told you that as long as you didn’t follow the cliché and go down on one knee, and you agreed, I knew one day to expect it.
     “You mean you had nothing to do with this firework display?” I grinned, “Of course, Jeremy. Yes, I will marry you!” We shared a long, hard kiss before we went on the rest of our night. I glowed ecstatically as I walked around, very well aware of the small series of diamonds on my ring finger.
     I never expected that night to go as well as it did. I never expected you to become the nightmare you did, either.
     It was a wonderful romance until the occasional fight turned into an every day activity that we participated in. The night you came home late was the first of it, when you came home almost an hour later than you finished work.
     I stood in the kitchen, looking out the front window facing the driveway when you pulled in. Your response was a mumble as you walked right by me, paying me not attention. “Long night, babe?” I had ask. It was a completely innocent question, but you turned down the hallway around the corner by the fridge, and simply replied with a sharp tone, “Yepp. Goin’ to bed.” “I love you.” I called after you. “Mhmm,” you replied.
     Some nights you redeemed yourself. As I sat in the passenger seat of the car, you’d speed through the roadway and talk about yourself. At the restaurant, I’d pick the food off my plate and ate it slowly, but you’d notice and make me laugh softly. It was just an act—I didn’t want to let my mind think that it was bad as it was, and I didn’t want to let you know that the past few nights weren’t as bad as you thought. Then you paid for both of our meals, escorted me to the car, and we took off to the mall.
    Into the most expensive dress store we went, and you bought me a red satin dress that you thought looked great on me. You then found a three-hundred dollar necklace that matched perfectly, and I agreed that it was gorgeous. Of course I loved them—they were beautiful. You still cared enough to buy me these things.
     “There’s that gorgeous smile I fell in love with. I haven’t seen that in a while, babe. It suits you.” You smiled, gazing lovingly into my eyes and gently cupping my face in your hands. I had flinched at your touch at first, but I adjusted to the former comfort of your warmth.
     Our relationship balanced itself on a teeter totter through the last few months. As time went on, it got worse. Every innocent question I’d ask about you would set you off. My words were like a switch that I couldn’t control; you’d either respond blankly, or angry and impatiently. It was hard to tell every time you’d return home from work which man I’d be speaking to.
     I was interrogated, and it usually ended in horror. When I went out for dinner with my friend (who, evidently, was gay) you were so angry—I’ll never forget your reddened face—you shoved me into the bookshelf.    
     Yet still, I loved you all the time, even when you cared nothing for my feelings or listened to what I had to say. You turned selfish. Desperately, I grasped the memories of the good times to replace with the bad. There was always enough of it to cover, but the black cloud still remained.
     I gave you all I had, and all I was.
    
     My best friend Jocelyn from high school had to come over on the first night you left. You got upset because I didn’t have the money to make a good meal, so instead we had to have sandwiches for dinner. It wasn’t my fault—we both knew I couldn’t find a job; you were supporting us both, yet you were okay with that when you asked me to move in with you. “I’m starting to not be able to handle living here, Elise,” you yelled as I watched the door shut after you. I cried so hard that night, because I felt guilty.
     I had dropped nearly thirty pounds the last month before you left. I couldn’t eat, or I’d throw up. My body completely rejected everything I put into it. The nights I had locked myself in the bathrooms were a clear heads up that you could leave without saying a word.
     My best friend, once again came to my rescue. That night I’d developed an eating disorder, Jocelyn, who weighed as much as I did before, carried me effortlessly to my room and laid me in bed.  
     She tried to coax me out of the house, but I couldn’t leave looking the way I did. I knew I looked ghastly, but she said nothing. Where would I go, anyways? She had her own boyfriend and a two year old by that time. I was thankful enough, though, that she was there for me when I needed her the most.
     “I’m going to get you out of here. He’s so bad to you,” She told me once. We were sitting at the dining table while you were at work. “You don’t understand, I love him. I keep thinking that this is just a nightmare—a phase; it’ll go away in time.” I defended both myself and yourself with a sigh. “Look at you, Elise,” she whispered, as if it hurt to say it. “I’m sorry.” She quickly apologized. “I can’t help it, I’m just so tired…”
     She’d never spend the night, though she wished to, and I never left with her. She was so fearful of you and what you’d do to her. That was another reason she never called the police; if you knew I didn’t do it, you’d find her. A heavily-built man like yourself was intimidating to anyone you ever knew. That was another advantage in your direction.

     On the second last day, Jocelyn had to come over, with our other good friend Jayme, to help me out of bed. By the time we’d reached the kitchen that morning, you busted through the door, drunken and enraged.
     Your eyes of cold, steel grey focused on mine and I jumped, startled. Angrily, you broke the bridge of support the girls held me in, knocking me to the floor. “You two better get the hell out of here before I call the cops!” You slurred.
     It made no sense if you did because they’d take you away for the abuse that was evident on my thin skin. It didn’t matter anyways.
     Jocelyn screamed, “You’re demonic and you are a failure of a human being.” You nearly knocked her on the side of the head and stormed out again before yelling, “I’m done with you, I hate what you’ve become. You don’t even look like a person anymore.” My girls insisted on staying over, but I wanted nothing more than to be alone.
     The next morning, I walked out into the living room. My eyes were barely open, because I was extremely tired as always. It startled me when I noticed you sitting on the couch, watching me as I walked out of our bedroom. “Sorry.” You mumbled with softness in your eyes that I almost didn’t recognize anymore. You then enveloped me in your arms, which didn’t smell like alcohol, but rather the new-clothes smell. It actually brought some relief—some comfort. “It’s okay,” I couldn’t fight it anymore.
     But you never did learn that you can’t say sorry and expect to be forgiven as easily as you could say one word. We spent that night together but I didn’t smile once. You never once asked about me, apologized specifically for hurting me, yelling at me, anything. All you talked about was yourself.
     “You have to leave, Jeremy. I can’t handle this anymore.” I looked down at the sheet we wrapped ourselves in. Through my hair I saw your wrinkled, scruffy face fall. “You can’t apologize enough. But if you wish to one day come back and treat me the way you did in the beginning, I’ll be waiting with open arms.” Then you got up, and walked out of my life.

     I didn’t think that was the last time I’d see you. Knocks went unanswered at the door for months, but I’d know if it was you. I sense these things.
    
     For now I wait, pace back and forth through this hallway, waiting for you to become a better man. The photograph of us hanging on the wall has yellowed, and as I trail along beside it, I pass over the crumpled collection of clothing with a *** of paper underneath it. My love for you will never die, the way another part of myself has.
Johnnie Rae Nov 2012
Sunshine, I feel the pain in your eyes as you look in to mine,
as if torn as to whether to gaze deeper, or look away,
I knew this day would come, I always knew I wasn't good enough,

Now let me ask you,
whats so good about picking up the pieces,
when your never gonna forget anyway?

What if I'd rather leave them to fade into distant memory,
and move on like its all okay,
but deep inside I'll know I never recovered,
because babydoll,
I couldnt forget you,
not even if I wanted to,
theres a scar on my heart in the shape of your name,
and incase you didn't know,
scars don't fade,

"hold my heart,
its beating for you anyway"

None of the colors can reach the darkness of my mind,
and none of this, will ever change with time,
because, babe, I can't forget you,
theres a hole in my heart in the shape of the love you provided,
and then let slip away,

"Whats so good about, pickin up the pieces?
What if we don't even want to?"
had the song 'Caraphernelia' on. Also by Pierce The Veil
for those of you who don't know, caraphernelia by definition, is a heartbroken disease in which someone leaves you but leaves all their things behind, making it impossible to forget.
Jellyfish Oct 2014
Acidic fury is exactly what I'm feeling, towards you.
The tactics that you've caused me to go through are so painful
I do not understand why you would be so untruthful.
It's almost as if I am floating upon this drift that is full of words you had said in the sweetest of voices.
"I love you."
"You're my stars, my suns, my galaxies."
I keep repeating these sentences thoroughly through-out my mind, every single night.
Remembering the tone, the beat, the eye contact you had made.
Trying to take in the truth, that it was always fake.
Your undying ability to lie straight to my face, was so horrid.
I am feeling betrayed as this 'Caraphernelia' settles in.
I am unaware of the day when my memory of you will fade away.
I hope it's soon.

Your voice is still ringing in my ears as I am dizzily spinning around in my mind,
Trying and trying to just get by this heart breaking of stages.
If only it were easier to forget your name.
Your name.
I will not repeat.
I do not want to say it, I will not cry screaming for you again.
I cannot.
There it is.
The words that you had said to me.
"I love you."
"You are my stars, my suns, my galaxies."
Now I'm crying.
I keep repeating these sentences thoroughly through-out my mind, every single night.
Remembering the tone, the beat, the eye contact you had made.
Trying to take in the truth, that it was fake.
This poem of mine specifically means a lot to me.
vanilatea Feb 2021
We're 90 hours away.

Yet I hope every steps that I make would bring me closer to you.

That no matter where life would take me, I hope, it will always lead me back to you.
Caraphernelia - A condition in which someone abandons you but leaves their belongings behind, including painful memories.
Jellyfish Jul 2015
My throat is swelling up,
My thoughts seem to be stuck.
You're over me now, I know.
I didn't think that was it, though.
I should've seen it coming.
This heartbreak that I'm feeling.
But I completely deserve this.
Because I acted so selfish.
Débijonne Jun 2018
Beside what used to be your pillow, I wake.
Melancholy as I get out of bed.
Brushing teeth by the sink
With a jolt of sadness and dread;
your toothbrush on the brink.    

Eating the pain for breakfast.
Then wishing the shower can
wash away the misery.
I look at the mirror hoping that again,
I could meet your lips so dreamy.

But seeing that photo near the corner
reminds me why I must not bother.

Driving to work with the thought of you
sitting on the passenger seat.
I put my phone on top of my table.
Longing for your voice so sweet,
waiting for your message so playful.

Can you blame me if I can’t forget you?
Everything still lingers.
Everything reminds me.
I feel like I hold my heart in my fingers,
shattered to the highest degree.

I even take the long way home
to forget the state of being alone.

So please come back;
not for a brand new start.
But to keep our memories at bay;
to keep the pain, the pieces of my heart.
It used to beat for you, anyway.
Caraphernelia \ka-rə-fə(r)-‘nēl-yə\ noun : a broken-heart disease that occurs whenever someone leaves you, but leaves all of their belongings behind.

This poem was inspired by American post-******* band Pierce the Veil’s song of the same title.
sd Jul 2013
Do you remember?

Do you remember hanging out during the clinic?
We all got on the bus, heading to the clinic. K- and G- tried to make me sit next to you,
filling my seat with violins, trying to force me to sit next to you, but I resisted,
so embarrassed. I listened to my mp3player and talked to K- and G- and Sa- and J-. K- and I played punch-buggy and she got me way more times than I did. You and I  more or less ignored each other. We didn't talk for a while, until there was a break.
I don't remember how or why, but you ended up with one of my earphones,
and we were listening to my music, (thank god we like the same stuff)
and K- and G- came over and invited us to that elementary school game,
where you get in a close circle and grab hands with two people and try to untangle everyone without
un-clasping hands. I just grabbed two people's hands but K- and G- forced me to grab your hands
and I'm sure I was blushing.
Fast forward a while, 'til we were breaking again, all of us from P- High School huddled in a corner,
K- made me sit next to you, elbow to elbow, thigh to thigh. She was sitting half on my legs and you were telling me about the time that Br- ate your pizza and why you wouldn't give him any of your
Mountain Dew that you had in your backpack. You showed me the seven cans you had and the
power strip you brought to charge phones. Then you gave me a Mountain Dew and we talked,
and I was showing you the video that I always hoped no one saw me watching because of how
creepy it is, and we walked to the auditorium and
my heart was running a million miles a minute and my hands were shaking as we talked
and we sat together in the auditorium, listening to our Zune's and you were telling me about
how you had several seasons of Adventure Time on yours and then we watched
"Burning Low", the episode where Finn is going out with Flame Princess and it was so cute
but then G- ruined it by coming over and pulling out your earphone and watching the video for a few seconds. But he went away and we talked for so long and you made me laugh so loud that Ms. R-
shushed me.
Eventually we went to lunch and I didn't really eat because of my hypoglycemia and we talked forever over pizza and Mountain Dew.
Skip forward a few hours, going home on the bus, sitting side by side, singing along to songs, until we got back to the school, hanging out until our respective adults picked us up.
You and I were last, listening to my Zune, and I was standing on the feet of the piano, so we were closer
in height and I was petting your hair (the first time of what will be many) and we went outside to wait, listening to Caraphernelia as my aunt pulled up, deciding to "punish" me for not calling in time,
yelling out her car window that my "***** looked bigger." I glared and yelled that I didn't think my band-mate really needed to hear that and she laughed and I waved goodbye to you.
Not long later, Sh- called and we were talking and she said that
you said that you definitely liked me.
One of the happiest moments of my life, until then.
phoebe May 2020
“i’ll burn your name into my throat
and i’ll be the fire that’ll catch you”

people told me it’s good to pick up the pieces and put them back together as a whole

but what if i don’t even want to?

— The End —