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if alice in wonderland was set in 2012,i might cut my hair if it didn't remind me of you,
but just like the fade from september into the pits of october,
i'm not alice, this isn't wonderland, but i am just as surrounded by things that yell,
"eat me! drink me!" and they don't say it but i know they'll all make me bigger,
sadder, fatter, too big to fit into a house, my arms my legs come shooting out,
everything i feel is just too loud-
i should be better than i am.
i should be taking the world by the shoulders, shaking back its shoulders because i am a storm, i am a force of nature and you will take notice-
but my winds are quiet. my rain is sad.
i'm too afraid to swell up in full vigor,
to take what is mine in case it's taken from me again,
i will never forget what you did- in camera flash moments, in sharp moments-
to leave me broken.
there are some cuts that never close up.
there are some things that never get spoken.
and there are some things yo
from the eyes of a loverit's easier to write about yourself
from the eyes of your lover
over the beauty of eyes that turn into the golden hour
or smile lines you hope mean many more to come.
it's easier to let yourself be loved
when someone tells you, no, shows you
everyday with every breath they take every second
that you are born from immaculate conception,
borne from the ashes of something that needed to shed its skin
to let the love come in.
i guess it's not too much of a secret
that i'm not easy to love-
wires stick to my skin
and i bury them back in-
but god, when i let him in-
god, i know i've done something right.
he makes me feel less alone
when i don't want to breathe;
every cup of tea he brings me
has just the right amount of sweetness
without having a grain of sugar;
he kisses my cheek
and the butterflies in my belly
like i've never been kissed in my life.
i hope you find love
that makes being who you are
a little bit easier,
i hope you find love
that gives you hope
that you m
two days shy (i'm so sorry)two days hang
like bodies from the gallows.
they swing in fetid winds
and i see myself
i have reaped your wounds
after sewing them shut,
sowing them carefully
for two days shy
of a year.
i feel our blood mixing
and it feels like the hurt
you only have after a
for those who want to be in loveyou want to fall in love
hard enough to break your bones and
lighten your feet
lighten your heart
so softly that the butterflies you feel
pattering with their gossamer wings
beneath the cage of your ribs
and the breath,
blue in the summer,
can kiss you and the monarchs
as sweetly as your love
and her lips.
you dream of them at night.
silken like clean bedsheets,
familiar as your favourite chair
when you curl up with
a mug of herbal tea.
you feel at home
with her body curled in yours,
only able to sleep
with her skin under your fingers
scenting the blankets
with something no perfume
could ever mirror.
you write love letters
you dream emptily
unless she is there.
you want to fall in love
the way the gods drink ambrosia,
you want to treat her
better than their nectar,
sweeter than honeybees
and their summer-sticky feet.
you want a love beyond poetry,
from winter flurries
to springtime rosebuds
to summer sweet lemonade
to autumnal red leaves u
first weekend and realisationsyou begin to talk
because talking means that
someone else can't
&you start to realise
(as most girls do)
that you have a boyfriend
he's not just a boyfriend;
he's your boyfriend
&he's not just better than
anyone else in the world
he's better than
anything else in the world
&you would trade years off your life
to spend a little longer with him
or to see him smile when he's sad
or to feel his face in your hair
the way he does when he hugs you
&you can't feel it
because right now he's too far away
but distance is only the space between
point a and point b
between you&between me
&if you give it just a little more time
you'll realise nothing has changed
and the disjointed rhythms
your heart beats out like a drum
sticks like a song in your head
the moment you watch recognition
hit his eyes
when you walk in.
breathing takes a second too longi'm just going to write this all out because if i stop to so much as breathe or count the seconds in my head until i feel like maybe you're a little closer to me then i might just fall apart. i don't have much control over my punctuation or spelling or grammar but i also don't have much control over myself and especially not over you and me together, and it's terrifying but it's all i want.
i want to be able to see you and i want to press myself against you as tightly as i can because there have been way too many miles between us for way too long and all i want is you and when i stand up i want you to still be against me and when i lie down i want you still to surround me and when i walk over to the door to leave because maybe you made me sad or maybe it's just time to go i want to walk out to my doorstep and have you still be encircling me like i am the destination on your map that you've been looking for for so long.
i don't want to be the sore spot between your elbow and forearm fro
the death of selfi can't find words to
i can't articulate
and blood doesn't stick-
i am stuck with my self
and the monsters
who have inched in,
night by night
until their figures
loom over me,
i am mourning.
the loss of you,
no matter how temporary;
to destroy my body
beyond its crumbling pillars;
the sadness in every cell
that contains the ocean,
wave after wave of thorough dejection,
apathy and agony
that nothing seems to solve.
i do not move.
i exist because it is what i know to do.
i breathe only because it takes effort to stop.
the hole in which i am buried
is filled with heavy, sodden soil
and my blood offerings
and constantly emptying myself
receives no mercy from a deity,
i am mourning
the death of my self.
revelations in the mudi only want to fall in love
if someone is there
to fall with me.
i want to jump from high places
and pretend i'm flying,
i'm a bird, i'm light enough at-fucking-last
for the air to catch me,
and the harsh grounds beneath me?
can't touch this.
but i'm earthbound
and parachutes will not work
if you do not open them,
and i am just so sick
of feeling like maybe,
becoming an abstract painting
on the rocks below, would be enough...
but there is something beating in my chest.
i'm very afraid of what it is.
and i don't know a lot,
like the size of the universe.
or why you sought solace in the south.
or how i came to be in this crater that swallowed me whole;
but i do know the second you told me
you felt the same for me like i did for you,
something in my universe shifted.
part of my soul went to georgia...
and i began to climb.
the purpose of life is to knock you on your ass
so you have to do something with it to get back up.
i don't know about you,
but i'm pretty fuckin' tired of feelin
On sadness, she wrote.I’m sad all the time,
and I do the dishes and wonder
when I got to be so sad,
and I do the laundry
and I wonder where all the
sadness comes from,
and I clean the bathroom
and I wonder how all the sadness
fits inside of me,
and I smoke too many
cigarettes and wonder if the
sadness will ever go away.
It's still you, I swear.When I light
and when I sing
but when I roll
over in the night to
find a breathing boy
instead of your
it's not you.
It's you in
my morning coffee
and it's you in
my favourite jeans,
and it's you in the
blisters that form
on my fingers.
Only I have taken
you out of me and turned
you into things I love
and do and read because
I wanted to love him
I cannot lie, even to save you.A road runs
from my heart to my mouth,
a bustling bypass of
things I shouldn't say
that flood my mouth
and crash against my teeth,
wave after wave after wave
of me until we are both
drowning in the honesty.
this is harder than ''i'm sorry''I know I'm the last person you'd expect to hear from
but the way you used to say my name is impossible to forget:
like a secret. Like a lifeline. Like I was the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.
And I know we drifted apart. I pushed you out to sea without a thought of where the swells would take you, or what monsters the waves would wash up on your shorelines.
But I swear, I'm not the person I was. And I don't think you're the girl you were.
I think you liked yourself better when you were seen through my eyes, when every conversation was a love note I wrote you with my voice. You used to find yourself so much more exciting, but to me, you were goddamn electric.
Now I'm not asking you to come back into my arms or my heart or my sheets, but I'm begging you to come back into my life. My sentences were more eloquent and my words were much more confident when I knew you were in my audience. It's a sickness, this thing that pushes my pen to paper, that implores me to write, but
maybe you never belonged to meI can still feel the weight of your lips on the curve of my collarbone. Sometimes, it feels paralyzing, crushing, absolute. Sometimes, it feels like home. Like everything.
I once heard that when you can't fall asleep it means you're awake in someone else's dream. I wonder which one of us was dreaming that night, because everything was too quiet, too easy, too perfect. You used to fall asleep next to me, your body curled against mine. It's a warmth that's not easy to forget. A hidden smile tucked into pillows and sheets. It's easy to think these things will last forever when you're tangled up together. For me, the strings of my life will always be tangled up in yours. Forever tied to you. No matter hard they attempt to fray. To fall apart. To sever.
It's snowing for the first time this year. Soft and gentle, glittering in the sunlight, falling in large flakes, easy and quiet – nothing at all like the storm that rages inside of me, turning up the corners of my heart, throwing shrapnel
Clarity.I woke up this morning
and found that I had known
the word for you all along,
that I had known
your hands searching
for my hands;
they could only ever
have been called
peace at three a.m.Everything was silent for the
cricket symphony at three a.m.
I sat on the cool cement of the driveway to listen
and a pill bug slowly approached to sit at my left.
I noticed a spider on my right,
still and sprawled,
and for the first time I realized that
he had no desire to scare me.
He stared and waited,
spread like an open hand ready to take mine.
Wary, I only watched him and refused
to relinquish my hand.
He seemed to know that these things take time.
The three of us sat and listened to the crickets, unmoving and appreciative of the company.
A street light flickered on and off down the curve of the road,
soft and gentle.
For the first time,
I realized there was peace.
moments of being awakehearing from you
gives me road rash
the kind the drunk man
who touched the shoulders of women
in long, lingering lashes
gets when he's thrown
from the bar
it slaps me in the face
harder than winter wind
after a night spent
alone in a bed
or not alone in a bed
i wonder if you wonder
if i'm sleeping with somebody
if i'm in love and happy
if i'm alone and miserable and
aching for someone like you
because i admit i do-
i spend some time
wondering about you.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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