Because of you
I became a
I cut out
each of my victims
complete and beating
and store them away
in a tattered shoe
because I am trying
to find one
that fits in the dark,
left by the heart
Six Senses.I can feel your presence,
In the air,
In each crystal of ice,
That form from frozen words.
I can smell your presence,
In the atmosphere,
In each drop of rain,
That pours with reverence.
I can hear your presence,
In the trees
In each falling leaf,
That flies like angel wings.
I can see your presence,
In each of my veins,
In rivers of cerulean blood,
That flow beneath my skin.
I can taste your presence,
In the salty ocean air,
In each fragile mist,
That caresses my aging face.
I can find your presence,
In every place I go,
In every be
Art.Your body is
Your soul is
So much depth
Your touch is
Your presence is
You are the most
work of art
that I have ever
the lace curtains drowned in the rain.you told me i wasn't allowed
to write poems about you anymore.
but it's like when my doctor tells my hands
not to shake;
i can't control it.
Skeletal System.My vessel
as vacant as
a gaping grave
because I put everything
into loving you
I am a
We Both Had Our Faults.You were deaf.
but never heeding any care
for a response
or the way I would
shout for help.
I was blind.
My eyes saw
only what my mind
needed them to
a happy, vibrant world
and fresh, blooming
We and Misery
were the closest
we never formally
the shadows beneath my eyes remind me of you.i got bored in class last friday,
so i wrote a poem upon my hand,
and when my teacher walked by he read it.
"that's deep," he said.
"i know," i told him,
december.and when they take me
to the morgue,
will you see the difference
between my skin and the sheet?
and when they close my eyes
please be standing over me,
so that your face
will be the last thing they see.
and when those tears fall
down from your face
pour them on my lips,
so i can take you with me.
and when they look away
caress my bloodless face,
give me one last gush of
and when they bring the casket
gently tuck me away to sleep,
read me one last story
from that book atop the shelf.
and when they place me in the ground,
beneath six feet of dirt,
leave your footprints in the snow
and please don't let them melt.
and when I fall to hell
i'll be waiting at the gates,
but darling please take your time
there is no need to rush.
sorryi am speechless
and i hate this part of me
because so many of you look for me
to make something pretty out of these sad words
but my hand writing is ugly
and I have nothing
to say but
Tears You shouldn’t cry for the dead; they’ll be sad in the next world if you do.
Wynn remembered hearing that phrase from her grandmother. It hadn’t come to mind for years, truthfully - not since she’d first heard it at her uncle’s funeral as a small child. Those words had been meant for her cousin, but the little girl hadn’t been able to help overhearing them as she sat in the church pews, too young to fully comprehend the situation. She’d forgotten about them for so long, but now they came back to her with the force of a train, reverberating in her head.
It probably had something to do with the tears that were rolling down her face.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, Wynn buried her face against the blanket that she still clutched in her arms. His scent still clung to it, calming her slightly as she curled around it like a lifeline - Rhys. It was the only thing that she had le
When I Was YoungWhen I Was Young
Once upon a time,
When I was young,
I believed our world is nice.
When I was young...
I thought I was the faulty one,
A parasite, a virus,
so sick and so hideous
I was asking so much,
always more than my lunch
"All these goodies, not enough?
What is more you need to laugh?"
When I was young,
I believed our world is nice
I felt, I was the broken one...
So I was shy, very shy
When I should and when I shouldn't...
I was so silly, stupid!
I thought I'm asking so much!
More than I need for lunch!
And if it happened to need more,
I would never ask it for.
But now I've grown so much,
little shame for my lunch,
Some they say, no shame at all,
that I'm out of control.
But now I've grown so much...
I always ask it for!
There's no shame, No more!
Hate Sleeping AloneEach night
I lay in bed...
Letting my covers
Try to keep me warm
Though they're never
As warm as your arms.
Letting my dreams
Try to soothe me
Into a deathly calm
Though they're never
As calming as your
Letting hundreds of sheep
Try to caress my eyes
To finally close
Though they shall never
In the way your gentle hand
In mine will.
And while the covers may try
They will never fill the place
Where you slept beside me.
My dreams will never
Fill the emptiness left
Without your breathe.
The sheep will never
Lift me away
Like the comfort of knowing
That your near me
And that you
Will be the first thing I see
When I wake
And each night I stay awake
Because without you
I'd rather not sleep.
To See You AgainI’d swallow bleach just to see you again.
I’d drown in blood and choke on death,
I’d release my dying breath
All to see you again.
I’d swing from a rope to see you again.
I’d let go and join the black sky,
I’d scream, scream until I die
All to see you again.
I’d down a storm of pills to see you again.
I’d rewire my veins and run lights,
I’d pick unwinnable fights
All to see you again.
I’d embrace red flames to see you again.
I’d play in roads and with knives too,
I’d kiss guns like I kissed you;
I’d have to,
To see you again.
Hiding the Bruises Behind Blackout BlindsBruises up my spine, sickly yellow.
Fire bursting from the sun,
Casting light where it shouldn’t go.
Mucky foot prints through the house,
Round in circles and then run out
Marring the carpet, staining the floors.
The bruises accumulate in the dead of night,
Reminding me what it means to be alive
Not singing drunken ballads of stormy fights
And hiding the bruises behind blackout blinds.
I like to set things on fire, things I can’t have
Creep around strangers houses at the weekend,
Look at all the memories in photo frames on the wall
How can you miss something you’ve never had?
How can you grieve for the feelings you’ve never felt?
Is it wrong to avoid the mirror because when you look
You’re the only thing that's there?
Even then the ghost is getting thinner,
Sooner or later I will look and
She will no longer be there.
I feel like a ghost who leaves behind footprints
Too trampled for anyone to see,
Setting fire to people
i'd haunt you if you'd like.my hands are paralyzed and you're waiting for me to touch your face,
but that doesn't really matter because i'd rather touch your soul
and if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybars
in this old and rusted park
you can pretend to know the constellations and point them out to me and i'll tell you they're all beautiful, but nothing compared to you
if i'm lucky you'll blush and laugh at me,
tell me i say the dumbest things but deep down it'll register in your soul just how much i love you
and i know they say you can only save yourself, but darling i swear if you'll just have the slightest bit of faith i'll save the fuck out of you or i'll destroy myself trying,
because i honestly can't think of any other purpose for my life
or what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.
All That People Say.They said you were a mess,
A problem I couldn't solve,
A broken glass I couldn't fix.
He said you were his,
A possession not a friend,
Property I couldn't touch.
She said you were her son,
But a mother she never was,
Because she didn't give a damn.
I told them all to rot in Hell,
That what they said meant nothing,
All that mattered was you.
You said that you were sorry,
About the way you were,
The darkness in your head.
I told you I would be there,
To catch you when you fell,
And repair your every scratch.
You said it couldn't be
That you were too far gone,
And nothing could save you now.
They said you were insane.
He said you were not worth it.
She said you were a regret.
I said I loved you.
You never said goodbye.
Sticks and StonesSticks and stones
May break my bones
But words leave scars inside
My bones have healed
My pain’s concealed
But unseen scars will thrive
They dig down deep
They make me weep
But when I’m asked what hurts
There is no scratch
No mark or patch
That makes the scars revert.
The tongue’s a sword
That strikes a cord
And tears the strings apart
But there’s no words
Nor healing herbs
That soothe a broken heart.
And every how
And why and when you speak
Be kind to all
Make none feel small
Or call someone a freak.
you're the reason for my fraying edgesA piece of me snagged
on your fingertips, now
I'm spending the rest
of my life unraveling
on the continuation of time.Head bent in prayer,
I touch the inside of my lips with my tongue,
in the hope that they will be there still.
The moon erodes, crumbles
into the sky, filling its velvet ink
with shining destinies, pinpricks of hope --
and I bay miseries to a fading memory.
The mist rising from the ground,
a ghostly apparition, constricts my chest,
restricts my breath into wordless,
song. In sun-strewn bars,
light leaks in, pale shadows
of a lovely embrace. The kiss of petals
on riverwater echoes across the valley
and dewdrops lie heavy
on my shoulderblades.
Spring has taken flight.
Parapines Fanfiction Challenge #22Fanfiction Challenge: #22 Memories
It was quiet for almost a whole week. Dipper remembered that he had been bored, and he remembered sitting outside, even though it was ridiculously hot.
"That's good. Do you remember what day that was?"
"Uhh..." Dipper tried to remember, but he told the doctor that he wasn't sure.
Norman frowned. What had he done? He let Dipper go down that path alone, even though nearly six different ghosts told him to stay away from there. He shouldn't have given in to Dipper's pleas about properly investigating and uncovering the unknown. This was the last time he let Dipper do anything alone.
He glanced at Mabel, who was standing on a chair so she could see out the tiny window in the hospital room. He couldn't even imagine what she was thinking about all this. Granted, she might not be thinking at all, given the look on her face. It was as though she was doing everything to not interact with her brother since they realized he had amnesia.
"Do you know which month i
Four Months In, Four Months WithoutTwo Weeks Without:
The funeral was this Wednesday. His mother was there, and his sister cried the whole time. They ignored me, and it was like I wasn’t even there. I don’t think they wanted me there, they never did. They may have loved their son but they have never loved me. The truth is, I’m scared to go back home, his ghost still waits for me and I want him back but not like this. I miss him, or really someone that could actually stand being around me.
I even miss the arguing. I remember just how annoying it was. He always thought he knew what was right for me, for us. Sometimes I said things just to see if he really cared, and sometimes I believed the things I said. It was comforting to hear those reassurances, and now that’s just something I can no longer count on. I realize there’s a lot I can no longer count on, and I can’t believe he’s gone.
The room seems colder now, and the darkness is overbearing. I keep waking up in the middle of the
in such a chasmic city
who could suppress this poetic seizure?—
interstate shadows amble away
from their owners with every passing second
eternal midnight’s a roadtrip away
in regurgitated vehicles
we scrabble for nine-month redemption
and in the trunk we lock up turbulent tabloids
and environmental brochures we pretended to read
and we build our nests
in the heartbeats between skyscrapers
valet parking intervenes with caution
but is no less obscene for it
and for all the concerned faces
the ecosystem still falls prey to the hungry egosystem—
a lattice of vanity scrawling its signature
i’ve been pacing
the same gasping streets
thinking about predestination and how many times
i’ve got to wake up before i rise
and i’ve been searching everywhere
for a rabbit hole
to fall into
in the end i decided to dig my own
so i slipped thru the city’s ribcage
struck straight into the serene heart of Central Park
only to drown again