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May 2013 · 498
creatures of habit
Zoe Christine May 2013
never trust a habitual soul
for they roam
and roam
in the same place
with the same stories
with the same mask
they hide themselves
so far beneath
May 2013 · 374
Untitled
Zoe Christine May 2013
i'm no poet
just a sad girl
with a swollen face
burns
cuts
and
neverending thoughts

please
let me out
please
let me out
May 2013 · 533
you say you're confused
Zoe Christine May 2013
prince of my body
my mind
my all

you speak
(hardly)
and i
just
don't
get
it

please
repeat
rinse
wash
repeat
please

clean me out
my demons
fight
with
yours
they don't behave
and i
have
no
say

(just
like
you)

nausea
of my brain
nausea
of every crevice
it can find
on my
broken
imperfect
body

prince of my body
my mind
my all
please be kind
please clean me
please
please
rinse
wash
repeat
May 2013 · 445
cry
Zoe Christine May 2013
cry
no
no i'm not ok
trembling lips
trembling finger-tips
trembling
trembling
you tremble
as i
watch
you
drown
in the salty stream
running down
your sweet,
sweet
contour
you were my everything
but everything
is nothing
as nothing
is everything
as you are
to me
as i am
to you
Apr 2013 · 551
darling.
Zoe Christine Apr 2013
And as you
claw
Down my spine
and
Grow in my
ribcage
I feel no
emotion
Because you are
gone
And I am
dead
Mar 2013 · 544
alone.
Zoe Christine Mar 2013
I'm the person that's just there,
you know?
Like when you grab one too many pieces of paper,
I'm that one too many.
There,
but unnecessary.
Unneeded.
Never grabbed for.
Just left,
alone.
My company consists of the countertop.
The cold, smooth marble
in relation to my pale skin
is the closest relation I have
to much of
anything
at
all.
Don't fret.
There's oxygen on my side of the atmosphere,
plenty,
so much that I want to share
with someone
like
you.
But you have your air
you reuse with your friends
and you don't need mine
like I
pray
for yours.
It's so empty,
darling.
So empty on my side of the atmosphere.
It's me,
me,
and my countertop.
Mar 2013 · 928
rewrite.
Zoe Christine Mar 2013
could we rewrite promises as renege
can we alter our language
to be something
more
honest?
because
promises are made
but are inevitably
shattered
ignored
forgotten
so
can we alter the english language?
because
who are we kidding
indefinitely
promise is to renege
as
you are to a liar
Mar 2013 · 401
no.
Zoe Christine Mar 2013
no.
no
you aren’t able
to get away with this
any
longer
you mope around
drowning in your own
pathetic
exhausting
worthless self pity
free to feel
free to express
“oh i’m depressed”
“suicide’s on my mind”
“run to my side”
“i can’t do it
alone

yet you surrender
me
to the loneliness you dare not face
“why are you sad”
“you lack reasons”
“your life is
perfect

suicide
is on my mind
but you,
worthless friend,
i’m the one that has no time for you
drown
drown
drown, baby,
drown
Mar 2013 · 358
Untitled
Zoe Christine Mar 2013
I think something
has crawled inside my stomach
and is eating me away
from the inside
out.
I feel uneven
as though gravity has betrayed me
and I am
water
stuck at an angle.
You were here last;
you snuck in my ears
with words
unlike any I've ever heard;
and now you're stuck
in my
ocean
of a mind.
Swimming, drowning
no oxygen;
just a mess.
A mess of creatures
and salt
from the tears
I do not let escape
either.
Zoe Christine Mar 2013
♡ You’re beautiful, your stringy hair and clouded eyes and all.
They adapted the fog captured in your lungs, it ran up your throat so quickly
but you had a choice;
why wouldn’t you let it free,
why didn’t you let it go?

You ****** it back up and it went straight to your irises.
Once a lovely hazel,
a monumental illusion of safety,
my own secret pathway to a flourishing place of peace,
a place where my mind was at rest.
For once,
for once my mind and thoughts were at rest.
Now, they are grey.
They’ve lost compassion but *******
you’re still beautiful.
You’re still so beautiful despite your lack of once overflowing enthusiasm.
You’ve lost your life,
your white lips speak louder than your chiming voice in this case,
you’re so.. dead.

How’d it happen,
did you trade your life in for the cheap perfume you continuously spray on to hide the scent of your decaying heart?
Is that it?
Is this what you're communicating to me, love?
Are you communicating to me that you’ve lost yourself before you even had a chance to breathe a single breath of unadulterated air,
the air past the mist?
You gave up so easily.
But please don’t worry,
please don’t fret, my dear.

You’re still beautiful, somewhere. ♡
I wrote this awhile ago, not exactly sure when.

— The End —