your body isn't a means to attain forgiveness by ohsostarryeyed, literature
Literature
your body isn't a means to attain forgiveness
it doesn’t have to be perfect;
it doesn’t have to be neat,
tied up, origami
in a soft little bow my body
is not a gift
for()giving.
my body is a home
that I don’t mind sharing,
it is a well worn bed
it squeaks, rusted springs
but it welcomes you home, I
welcome you home.
I don’t know how many flaws I have
but science tells me that if I stretched them
end to end,
they could wrap three times around
the immensity of the apology you say
with your flesh.
your skin doesn’t need to say sorry
for covering the stardust inside,
you don’t have to apologise
for taking up space
when you and space are made of the same
if alice in wonderland was set in 2012, by ohsostarryeyed, literature
Literature
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 fall.
down
the
rabbit
hole.
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-
look.
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
i am my mother.
i carry empty bottles
for every feeling
i never wanted;
they clatter in my bag
and where they are tied
on my wrists and ankles.
the glass glitters
until dulled by the weights
and dim light of the heavy feelings
that fill them.
i am my mother.
i have felt things
on my skin i have tried
to cut away to no avail,
i have tried to smile
until it hurts my god it hurts
and my bones are fire
but you think i'm okay so i'm okay
i am my mother
because i will never be angry
when others smudge the mud
from their feet onto me,
i will never show a scowl or reddened face
for being treated like wasted space.
i will take every jibe with a nod
10 ways depression can say i don't love you by ohsostarryeyed, literature
Literature
10 ways depression can say i don't love you
1. "i'm sorry
i don't want to
come over today."
the clock reads 4pm
and i roll over in my bed
again.
2. "i forgot it was your
birthday."
i'd forgotten my own
too.
3. "i promise i won't
hurt myself."
the ER doesn't believe
it's an accident
anymore.
4. you asked if i loved you.
i had to sneeze and it
never happened.
i think you took that
as a no.
5. we haven't had sex in a month.
6. we don't see
your friends.
we don't see
my friends.
i've forgotten
i even have any.
7. i never answered your text.
it asked if i was okay.
8. "i need you to open yourself
up for me," you said.
i stopped talking.
9. "what do you want from me,
blood?"
apparen
Day 1 –
The idea of being landlocked has always terrified me. At age eight, I sobbed as we crossed coasts from Maryland to Oregon for my aunt's wedding and her husband's ensuing funeral; at the funeral, I stayed silent.
Day 2 –
Sometimes it's nice to think of the shores, especially when I am so far from their comforting infinities. At college, I am in a university surrounded by trees and mountains. The nearest body of water is a man-made mess in the middle of campus; it is rumoured that it is filthier than the aftermath of a Friday night in the partying capital of the school.
The only difference is that one has snapping
001. morals
there is nothing wrong with leaving behind politeness for happiness and we could all do to remember.
002. parade
the aches in my skin parade within my bones like a sin.
003. prayers
i say your name over and over like it is a prayer to keep my head above water.
004. clear skies
just because things are cloudy doesn't mean there's no sun behind them.
005. happy birthday
i give you a feminine loofa, funny boxers, and your favourite candy- i want this to show you i love you even though i'm broke.
006. apples
my white flesh browns under my thin skin- i am rotting to my core.
007. letters
hours of letters written and phone calls si
love, tell me -
tell me i see the future and you
will wind up well alone;
i don't want you with anyone,
especially me.
i pull your air into my lungs,
an influenza in every syllable of
breath. and i am a cluster of hills
across your face, the reason you
said you didn't believe in
wearing sandals in july.
i keep track of time
in terms of crossword puzzles,
sundays especially difficult
because i used to pray like god listened
to my repents and hopes then.
you would take my unfinished columns
and fill them in with a different pen colour
and that was how i knew things were
wrong.
and there was never any bitterness
to it either, the passing hand