[x]

a hunger artistthe next time it happens,
maybe i won't be there.
i could have sold my soul
to the circus,
to starve myself
til my dying breath,
unadmired,
as it should be.

perhaps i will unravel,
skin like streamers
up to the bends of my elbows,
before you realise that, maybe,
you can feel the electrical discharge
from my broken circuits,
and that that is enough.

or better yet,
i will learn to love
another
while you're stuck
in your own crog,
muck and mire
piled to a level
just below the lips
i used to kiss
and keep safe
inside my memory.

but mostly, oh
but mostly,
i will never leave you,
dear,
i will never leave.
i am not fa

schadenfreudei found love
in your bone structure,
troublingly beautiful
with your soul worn across your lips.

you remind me of the sunshine
i lost in the circles
i left behind
to find someone an ocean
less far.

instead,
i am here,
watching the birds take flight
from the edges of your mouth,
watching their wings curl
with every word
strained with an accent
owned by my ancestors
born on ships.

i want you to tell me again
about the times
you found a purity in his eyes,
the blank skin upon which
they were set like jewels
and those when
you grinned cheekily
when i told you how
terribly beautiful
you really were.

i find myself wis

glass windowswe are windows,
made of glass
and shattered
in the old houses
of our bodies.

the wood of our
fragile frames
has been dismissed,
extricated from
their interlocking
webwork,
and pulled a
thousand miles
into the heat of georgia.

i will miss the
weighted feathers
of your hands,
the sun spilling
across your face
and painting your
smile,
graffiti,
across the city
of barcelona.

i am terrified
to lose you
to the sea,
ever-growing,
between
you and me.

i just pray
to the same god
you believe in
that if our ship
sinks,
we will each
remember
to float.

go to sleep for the love of godi kind of feel like ripping my face off.

look-
it's not one of those sad, suicidal stories. i mean, if i believed in suicide in the way that means i could do it, then yeah, it would be. but i don't, and i guess you're kind of lucky for that because now you can go to sleep with a clear conscience.

i won't ever tell you about how many pages and books and scraps of paper and unsent text messages and notes on the backs of my hands i've written for you, or how inarticulate you were when you wanted to say how you felt. i won't ever tell you how i wished for a few words that could tell me that i was loved, even a little, and i sure as fuck won

i have the right not to give excuses or reasonsi am not going to
explain myself
away.

i am no ocean tide,
ebbing and flowing
over the sands of us,
and your approval-
your pleasure
of what i am
is not needed.

you do not
need to know
why i am hurt,
why we do not speak,
or why i still love you.
you do not
need to understand
(the way the moon
does its stars)
why i feel and ache
and show this on
my skin and bone.

the fear,
however,
of keeping you away,
of creating distance
more than the miles
between home
and georgia,
relinquishes
the power i hold
between my teeth
and i burrow
like scarab beetles in the sand
into why,
why,
why.

i cannot wait
to breathe
an

centre for psychological healthit is three days
until march falls again,
false promises of spring
kissing the air
until it begins again
for winter;

three hours
until i feel my heartbeat
find its way
into the oceans
my blood spills,
poetry,
across porcelain
and skin
mirroring it;

three minutes
until i shift,
unbearable,
in a crimson chair
that begs for me releasing;

three seconds
until i swallow,
a bird,
sticking bones,
and pray for a
tooth of glass,
a jaw of metal, of
sharp,
kiss me,
an instant,
the way
you
once did.

i'm too sick to lovedon't let me go
if you don't know
what to do without me;

if you can't
sleep at night
because you wonder
whose arms i'm in,
and break bones every time
they're not yours:
it means you should
hold on to me.

i know
it seems like
i might just jump
but i always come back to you.
i'm sorry that i'm so stuck.

but still,
love is when you answer my call,
to hear your voice
a thousand miles away.
i'm sorry we aren't
together
anymore,
i'm sorry i'm
too sick
for you to
love
again.

bulldozeri am a poet -
or at least,
i was.

(i am lying.)

i tell myself
i have never wanted anything
more than you,
but i have:

i have loved with my whole heart,
every inch of my body,
every ounce of my soul;

i have taken time and care
with my eraser,
rubbing out the distance
between where my heart lives
and where my body lies in unrest.

i actually let myself believe you
for a couple of seconds,
did you know that?
i felt like you loved me.

i didn't want to get up
and i didn't want to move out of the rain,
i just wanted to sit in your car
in these clothes
forever
because that night was the last time i'll see you.

two days later

things i don't know about you that bother me thati wonder what it's like
to fall asleep beside you
in a post coital haze,
and to wake in the morning
to run to class.
do you wake me,
do you kiss my forehead,
do we make love again-
i don't know,
not yet.

and do you wet your toothbrush
before applying toothpaste,
oh,
tell me you don't leave the sink running,
it must get awfully tired.

and what do you dream of
when i lie next to you,
blissfully more than just a body;
what will you dream of
a year from now?
please tell me i can fit into
your big picture
as easily as i can fit into
your arms,
eternally.

155this is not the time or place for us to speak like this. we are sitting in your car at the walmart parking lot. it's not a mile from my house, but it's better than stopping at the dead end of my street.

we don't move for the five seconds following the moment you cut the ignition; from there, your eyes drop to the stuffed animal you won me -- a token of the high-noon days of our summer -- that oscillates between your hands.

the sun shifts from low to lower, dipping behind clouds and city silhouettes until the lights come on. the list of things i need to tell you becomes unreadable in the failing light, so you press a button and i can see

what was once our home is now our horror.when i'm not talking to you
i feel like vomiting,
walking behind a boy
who wore the same cologne
as you.

i can't cancel us-
we aren't a subscription-
before we have been
worn through
like soles of
old shoes.

and i think you
know that,
too.

the silence,
as heavy as it is,
is nothing
compared to the weight
of our hearts.

i don't know
if we'll ever
let this go;

but before we're done,
i need you
to look at me
full on,
the way you would
a mirror,
and not a naked girl
undressing in front
of you
for the last time.

basically i'm like vomitwhat happens when you finally find love
(or it finds you)
but it picks up its pieces
(and yours too)
and moves to georgia?

look-
you are not the only one.

people leave their hearts
behind
everywhere.
like
if you take a walk
down the street-
the pavement you're walking on,
take a look at it.
like
really look at it.

i hope you see
vague outlines in the cement,
heart shaped, yes,
with initials stamped
like sad hooves
in their middles
because basically,
that's what love feels like.

and still,
you are not the only one.

you do not deserve
the attention
to be fixed.
you are to remain
a broken doll
at best
on the she

i don't have the heart to call it summer lovewe drank sparkling water
with the sun stripping us down
to our barest elements.
we were the wind,
two hearts in the air,
unanchored and set at sea.

you would wear your hat
loosely like a ribbon
of air on the top of your head,
and smile with your whole face;

you would imagine what i looked like
in only my underwear
until the next hour when your
curiousity eased,
your hands becoming excavation
shovels, revelling in discovery-

i had liked you best
when you were naked
on my bed,
head between your knees
as you caught your breath.

this was the last time
i felt good about you,
the last that it was safe
to sink myself into you

wasting usi want you, ok
i want you to be on your knees
all scraped and red and raw
like you're a child again
because that's all you ever
were
i want you to be aching
the way i've been aching
since the last rays of summer
said goodbye to us,
goodbye to us
and i want you to never forget
that just because
you don't remember my birthday,
that doesn't mean
you'll ever,
ever
forget the feel of my skin
on yours
for the first time
and that someday
this memory will stop hurting.
it never will,
and i promise you this:
every time it crosses your mind-
while you wait at the bus stop,
during a chemistry exam,
the next time a girl touche

emotion, embodiedthere are things
living in me
that bring the floor
to my knees-
powers like concrete
and steel,
fierce infrastructure
of my bones
filled with something
like fire,
or smoke.

i have been
holding my breath
for so long
that i am scared
to let my body
breathe,
or give vessels,
these things
living in me,
the means to
become something
when i
myself
can't.

i pray to god,
a being unseen,
that i will
kill off these things
living inside me;
instead,
all i manage
to do
is kill off
myself.

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if my body could talk

by *ohsostarryeyed, Jan 16, 2012, 8:03:22 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

it's probably not a good thing
when what you want to say
to your ex boyfriend
is the same
as what your body
wants to say to you:

i don't know why
i still insist on you
when you want
nothing to do with
me;

you don't care for me
the way you did
before;

i wish everyday
that things
would change;

you are ruining me;

i don't know how to
deal with what you're
putting me through;

why can't you love me;

everything you do
hurts me
and i know it shouldn't
matter
but everything that matters
shouldn't, i guess.

what i think i mean
is i need you
to give me my soul back-
i am killing this flesh
without it.

if my body could talkby *ohsostarryeyed

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 *ohsostarryeyed

written off the cuff

ending is plath inspired

*edge-of-psychosis Jan 10, 2013 Student Writer

_{This startled me with its relatability.
Perfect, perfect, perfect.}

Reply

*ohsostarryeyed Jan 28, 2013

thank you, lovely

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*Hallucinate-in-Paint Mar 25, 2012 Student General Artist

You need to publish this. asodhcoasdas asd

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*ohsostarryeyed Apr 3, 2012

but it's not that good! D:

Reply

*Hallucinate-in-Paint Apr 26, 2012 Student General Artist

psshhhhhhhhhh. ya, whatever.

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~crazi-4-muffinz Feb 20, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This is amazing & is very true. ;-;

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*ohsostarryeyed Feb 22, 2012

thank youuuu!

Reply

~mouseluva Feb 7, 2012 Student General Artist

I love this comparison. I love the way that you can so easily read it as talking to your ex or your body, and yet it's not vague at all. Very nicely done (:
Also, here is the obligatory "your body has a point," but I know you know that (:

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*ohsostarryeyed Feb 7, 2012

i quite enjoyed this comment, thank you, love <3

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~mouseluva Feb 7, 2012 Student General Artist

You're very welcome (:

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