"unsmell" poems
If you could only unsee the things you wish you never saw.
If you could only unhear the things you wish they’d never said.
If you could only unsing the song you knew you didn’t mean.
If you could only unlove the ones who hurt you like there never was.
If you could only untouch the souls of the people you moved.
If you could only unsmell the scents you’d otherwise never forget.
If you could only untaste those lips upon your own.
If I could only pretend not to be..
Jun 8, 2010
Jun 8, 2010 at 4:53 PM UTC
Razor-sharp fingernails scrape layers of flesh from eyelids
Splaying them eternally open
Can't unsee what's been seen
Can't unhear the sounds
Or unsmell the odor that rots in nostrils, infecting every rose
There's no stopping when they all stink the same
Can't undo, can't undo
Safety in bile where nightmares are birthed in reality,
In places that fester like the remnants of the lids that blinded
Bleach doesn't clean untruths
Fire doesn't burn hot enough to mask pain
Blisters seem like hope
Hope to heal
Hope to resemble something familiar
Peeling skin back with teeth
Wishing for them to bleed
When scalding tubfulls try to cleanse
the grime that sludges through a broken mind
Attached to a heart mindlessly lashed in the shame of
Love
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
"Get up."
A decade ago, and I have yet to unseen your face, unsmell your scent.
"Get up."
A decade ago, and the palms of my hands still sweat at random moments of the day, my muscles tensing, waiting for you to call my name.
A decade ago and you still find ways to get me, not a dream you have ever let me be.
A decade ago and the imagery of it all going down still haunts me, though I’m sure you have forgotten by now.
A decade ago and I have not yet felt relief, not since a knock interrupted, and you told me to quickly get on my feet.
A decade ago I couldn’t move from my seat.
I still haven’t got up.
"Get up."
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
*
look at my back
watch me as i try to walk
notice how i hardly move
how i have to painfully drag my feet
share the ground the blisters as a secret
look at my back
how i carry my bones
how i silent the creaks
the breaking sounds, the irony smells
now i let them out
look at my back
watch me as i leave the room
listen as i slam the door
unhear the voices
unsmell the scents
look at my back
for the first, the last time
watch me as i hope for the best
my back soon glued inside
an open casket
*
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC