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zoie marie lynn Dec 2017
i'm broken and you're stolen,
so who do i run to?
you're not here for me,
you're not even here for you.
it used to be just you and i,
in the pulsing headlights,
but really it's just you just you,
and i'm doing anything just to stay alive.
do you see how this goes?
don't you know i treated you like a prose?
your rank was so high in the depths of my mind,
but you blew it all away,
crashing the crown with the times.
now i'm picking up the pieces,
and my kingdom says i'm blind,
but, my lovely lavender queen,
your punches are so kind.
i'm letting you go and you're doing the same,
but it hurts so much more when you pull me in again.
forever lasts a lifetime, right?
wrong, you whisper as you put up a fight,
to keep me to beat me to beg me to stay,
ahh, yes,
the presbyopia of love is leading us astray.
these messy verses are for you, i wrote it down so it must be true
wordvango May 2015
might we all have a touch
of glaucoma, selectively walled in
occluded by mental myopias
where there sight  is
half a day of suns,
night is blindness, never twenty four seven corrected
or twenty four right? Twenty tween's
fear and reality?cataracts
always coloring it as black or white
no depthness not colored right?
When tears fall, and people
run into burning buildings,
when innocent stars are blacked out
might we just,
let them go?
jae Nov 2018
“bony is beautiful” you whisper as you reach towards me with your luring, sticky fingers extending out as you wrap them around my cold body.
you sharpen my inhales as they cut my heart on their way to my lungs.
you sear your print into my pale skin claiming me as your child of the night.
the previous marks are melting away into something more, pooling at my feet, bathing me in its sick glaze.
you tremble against my skin as you feed on my fear and insecurities, dragging me deeper and deeper into your fiery hell.
you look me in my eyes and wrap your hands around my delicate neck, my vision fades.

you are my demon;
the fear of others and the depths of human mentality,
the untraceable percentage of human worthlessness,
the detestable attraction to the demise of our minds.

i don’t even know what you look like, but i can feel you here.
your dehydrated skin that reminds me of leather
the ashes you were formed from
that are now clouding my lungs and
i cannot breathe

maybe all it took was my change in scenery;
my hair grew longer, and so did your claws.
and i’m now manifested with the scars you materialized.

scarification;
a permanent body modification

you said i don’t deserve happiness unless i suffer for it.
and now i can never see you until it’s too late and i’m already bleeding.

i didn’t know having you around would make me want to be so skinny
until you were cutting away at all the edges that had grown soft since i finally left him.

leaving;
it was a topic that flooded my mind for months.
it looked like a strict diet of fingernails and bones crushed into salt.
it was swallowing chalk dust to begin the day, shoving shards of glass into the scars of my heart.
it was ripping myself from the comfort of my own home.
it was being afraid of the dark.
it was swallowing my own heart.                                                           ­                  
                                             ­       
and now, you, my demon, hold my body, empty
my soul scooped out of myself
nothing left but skin
i placed my body in your hands
i allowed you to blight my body
you said you would protect me
i scrawled poetry into broken bits and you laughed

but now?
you and him suffocate on my sunshine
the sugar you two injected in me, to keep me sweet and vulnerable,
is dying off.
until the only part of you two that will remain within me
is the notch in my heart.
and it makes my heart beat for three.
.
.
.
in these moments,
i'll find strength.
i'll have courage and fervor to hold on.

when my inner demon taunts me to let go,
when it smirks because the intensity is burning,
and my soul bleeds and bones ache,
and my will is tested

when the ranking of that boy was so high in the depths of my mind,
and he just blew it all away
and you're left to pick up the pieces

but his punches were so so kind
and now all that's left is the presbyopia of love

you're a "pretty girl with a pretty face"
that your demon and he will infinitely chase.
gripping your heart,
and clouding your mind

but it's all in your head

where an escape is impossible to hide.

— The End —