Little girl,
You've been hurt.
Betrayed by those who should have been the most loyal,
hurt by those who should have loved you,
scarred by most everyone
you ever met.
I know the shadows in your heart,
how they obfuscate every minute
of your life.
Nightmare paths in forests of wakefulness.
Lost,
Alone,
Deep in the woods.
One day, you will learn to walk.
One day, you will learn to run.
One day,
You will be unable to move,
frozen,
stagnate,
bewildered.
You're eyes flitting frenetically,
in the headlights of your sudden life.
Girl,
It will be OK.
Take that step off of that ledge that seems so terribly,
unfathomably high.
Do the unthinkable,
T
I wake
in mourning
working
on the end.
each blade of body
greys like cedar
brittles
in their
marrow
the eyes
become
dimensionless
never weep
from their sleep
years
digress
between
sun salutations
the gut
grows
tempestuous
with a cruel child’s
shame
yet god, buddha,
or the last aching
deity
offers up a salve
at our Mass of the Unnamed:
deadnettle
for regret
in the early grave
of March.
saving face / saving grace. by 91816119, literature
Literature
saving face / saving grace.
The cataclysmic error of the sunset
tempts the universe out of its shell
to mock my humanity,
listen to the pebbles at my window,
the scatterings of
how beautiful it all is.
His heart --
my fear of --
stress-marks
stretch-marks
impact craters where I held hands in mine
the burn and scratch of the light of day,
yes I can feel my retinas deteriorate
but I am
saving face
saving grace
swiping right for my next tomorrow.
I swallowed yesterday
like mothers' ruin
shot shot shot
and if this is my last living memory,
I think I've forgotten how to be myself.
I do not eat out of pain,
I do not eat out of this agony in my heart, in my mind.
I gave myself to you, and am now empty, so I do not eat.
I can not eat, as I feel of no value.
Rejected, discarded in frustration because I am far too broken.
Too inadequate to make swift moves, so instead I'll slowly languish.
If I stay empty, i will fade away.
The problem will no longer burden you.
So I do not eat.
I should have written more poetry about you. by 91816119, literature
Literature
I should have written more poetry about you.
Lost in your embrace
into your chest she collapsed,
caved
against your collar-bones
weighed down by stones
in her pockets.
And her hair filled your eyes
tickled your neck
with her lips,
shuffled the deck
while she unbuckles your favourite trousers
the darkness swallowing
the discarded clothes
to the sound of swallows
congealing in the dawn.
And you, a frightened fawn
stark naked, captured by her eyes
ribs interlocked and fingers
heaving in the tide of bedsheets,
push and pull -
stand tall
for me, stand tall, for
me, my
peace of mind
tease out the knots
in our heartstrings.
She won't love another
she won't cut your words
from her walls;
There is No Life Without You by SilverWynd, literature
Literature
There is No Life Without You
Your death hangs over me,
like the guillotine
waiting to sever my life,
an iron gauntlet
clamped around my heart,
a noose gradually tightening
around my neck
until I cannot find my breath.
The thought planted
like a strangling weed,
uprooting forget-me-nots,
and hyacinths which
once grew,
there is grayness now,
the color from my life
bleeding out of my sky.
A phantom thought
haunts my waking hour,
there is only darkness now,
and the fragrance of decay
though I struggle towards
the moonlight.
I sink farther
feeling the bones crush
under my feet and clawing
hands, in a momentary
flash of electric light,
vibrating down my
My soul twists upon the rack,
though I know I place myself
here, with gasping breath
I struggle to find a reason why,
there is only the echoing blackness,
and your voice in the far distance,
it is need that drives me,
bone deep, knife sharp need,
which sears beneath me skin,
burns my sanity away,
needles probing my mind,
throbbing.
I only have a taste of you,
just enough to wet my lips,
but I am a drought with
a desert wind blowing,
my thirst for you is endless,
I want to be submerged,
smother myself within your
quicksand, pulled down
and down and down,
lungful of you,
I want to choke upon you.
I feel like a scavenger
on
There are monsters in the dark
you can hear their heavy
breathing if you sit alone
with the lights turned off.
They are hungry
and they are ruthless,
they are whispers,
thoughts, and deeds,
parasites that burrow
deep beneath your skin
unseen, gnawing upon
your bone marrow,
hooked into nerve-endings.
Vacantly you draw
the knife blade across your skin,
numb to the pain
you watch with strange wonder
the blood so red against
your pale skin,
and inside they laugh,
thirsting for more.
You begin to contemplate
the taste of glass,
light the ends of your hair
on fire, you don't even feel
the shatter of bones
beneath the weight
of
He nearly took my breath away,
left me bloodless,
dangling upon the edge of soulless.
peeling away the layers of skin
to try and find the remains
of myself buried inside.
He sliced away parts of me,
and stitched me back together
in forms I no longer recognized,
silently I watched myself
begin to disappear.
I counted the scars
like scratches left engraved
with flesh and bone
on asylum walls.
He built my cage
with barbed wire words
and razor kisses,
tearing me down limb by limb.
I withered away by degrees,
drinking the Nightshade he fed me,
turning me black and empty
while a fire still burned inside,
scalding its way up.
I f