"unhealthiest" poems
I was Vivacious, lively, wild.
A girl who was wild and free.
I was the romantic, the addict.
the unhealthiest of combinations.
With you
I confused
Trust with Lust.
they say you wanted this from the first moment, and in the end you were deadly.
there was no middle ground
you would **** all on this earth,
setting the place on fire and
the water cannot save me
if you cannot have me.
it is okay to be breakable,
to never rely on anything as indecisive as chance.
to be fake, be secretive
to stop giving it more attention than it needs.
Temptation lies ahead.
but romance is still alive, if you put forth the effort.
I need to learn to fall in love with a person- not just the idea of
falling
in
love.
I should know by now that I can be
deeply emotional or completely merciless,
there can be no in between.
I am a Mermaid,
I am a Phoenix ,
I will rise from the ashes of this broken love and break free of the tides that have all but drowned me over the years.
You have no power over me.
I am Vivacious, lively, wild.
A girl who is wild and free.
I AM the romantic, I will always be the addict.
the unhealthiest of combinations,
but also the most exciting.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
He was the most tastiest , that she'd craved so much for
but was the most unhealthiest , dangerous amour..
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 12:54 AM UTC
And like broken glass
The secrets intensify.
The vulnerability of time.
Both beautiful and sad.
The sound of broken glass.
Despite how beautiful the shards sparkle.
Despite time.
You'll never know what's on it's mind.
Hand to glass.
The prints left behind to be washed away.
The memories no more.
How can something so precious be replaced for another.
Thrown away without second thought.
It's cruel, unjust.
No explanation other than physical appearance.
The unhealthiest to cope.
The necessity of momentary need.
Another glass set in it's place.
To feel needed in a moment of thirst.
How we feel about the things we have.
Until we realize the one thing we need.
Almost too late
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
Easily tempted when tired
All the things that tick and spin within
Begin to motivate more than they should
Begin to surface and control more than I should allow
All the lust
For a flesh not my own
All the hunger for another
All the urges
To fight against anything
That isn't an internal demon
All the rage
I need to wake up
I feel the need to shake things up
In the unhealthiest of ways
As my cups are drained
Emotionally and spiritually
Physically and mentally
I feel the warmth of a hand
I feel the craving for a hand
I know better than to accept its touch
I know I should be repulsed
I feel fire burning in my skin
I hear an internally primal chant
"Fight her, fight him, fight them all..."
I can feel what must be an aching
To hear them brake under my hands
To see them crumple in the wake of my capabilities
May 30, 2010
May 30, 2010 at 3:20 AM UTC
I want you to make me tap out while simultaneously hearing me beg for more.
I'd love to scream that every inch of me belongs to you because we both already know that it does.
Every. Inch. Yours.
I often wonder how much power I give you by sharing that information. By explaining that no one else knows what you know. Feels what you feel. Or touches me the only way I need to be touched.
It's a gift and a curse loving you the way I love you, wanting you in a way I can't yet have you, and fiending for you in the most unhealthiest of ways.
You've been the source of my insomnia lately but I enjoy the pain of not sleeping. I'd rather document the way you inhabit my mind at the oddest of hours.
Not as a reminder to myself,
but as a letter to your heart, constantly reassuring that you will never have to question what I felt.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
Pause the thought in the middle of a free fall,
Grip every bond before it breaks down,
Energy focused on adding the last brick on the wall,
Denial makes a noise louder than silence's sound.
In your firm grip hold onto today,
Stretch the strings till you prolong the hours,
Riding on the back of sweet delay,
Let it take you to the place where you can cower.
And revel in the unhealthiest of routes,
Bobbing your head under the water,
Negotiating with your breaths on mute,
Reality can cough back to life later.
● ● ●
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
this is not love
but a fetishisation of
drowning and dying breaths
don’t try and tell me this is how it should feel
that the lack of blood on your hands
somehow makes you innocent
you are implicated through the slashes on my heart,
love, there is no getting around the fact that you wielded a knife
and recklessly stabbed at me
to say that you loved me
is to say you fell in love with how bloodied you left me
don’t misunderstand,
i am not the pain you embedded within me
love is much too fragile for you to understand
or even recognise
and if there was ever any trace of love between us
that would let you blink for a second
and touch me softly
you murdered that
the distance remains, and the empty space helped me see
you are twisted and dark, love,
and i could never fall in love with you
or even look at you
don’t try and tell me i’m broken
i am, but not because i love you
you arranged the pieces of my heart
into ugly slurs that made me feel so worthless
how could you love me, or even pretend you did?
this is not love,
but the residue of the unhealthiest of attachments;
calling you love is kind and caring
and you deserve neither, love.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC