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Category: Writing and Poetry
i just had a nightmare with you in it, just a character in the story, never the monster. when i woke up the first reaction was to text you, only to be met by the "we should end things," that in my sleepy state ive forgotten. well worded, good points, kindness laced in every word. how could i expect anything less than that from you. a bruise scar thing on my thigh, the constant mundane texts, the... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
i haven't slept well in over a week, between nightmares and late night arguments it's hard to catch rest. i often use people in place of melatonin. fruit flavored gummies never worked, i need steady arms and your chest pressed against mine, but i know there's a time limit to our affair that i'm attempting to ignore, so i just enjoy the warmth of your embrace while i can. to pass the time i try to... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
sometimes i wonder why i keep going. the deep hollowing emptiness in my chest consumes me until all i feel is tv static and an intense passion for pain. i say i live on spite and ambition, and to an extent that's true. however i remember one night where out of my control i almost lost my life, and the very next night i slept with my dear friend. i laid there with him, and hid my face in his chest ... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
as a child i never believed in love, i assumed it was a chemical response made for people who considered happiness as a well known friend, and as i grew older i felt a bitter pride that my point was being proven. until i slid into your arms and felt my soft body relax against your pointy edges, until our hands held another and it felt like puzzle pieces clicking together, until i woke up next to y... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
how do you write a poem about almost dying? its a joke, a topic of discussion. my neighbors stayed awake all night with me in the er, further blurring the line between family and friends. i kept my plans for the following day, because i heard that the french translation for orgasm is little death, and i needed something to look forward to. in the end i cried in his arms. in the end. in. the. » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
i find myself staying awake for days on end, only able to rest after my emotional support hook up. i escape away from the realities of my life by laying with the embodiment of what i wanted when i was fresh and new. back when my biggest concern was if dad will actually kill me this time and the approval of my math teacher. now im slightly older and much less believing of love. which isnt to say i ... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
I woke up my right ear being clogged blocking the memory of my recent diagnosis. Yellow used to be my favorite fucking color, flashing lights were fine, I drank to get by what the fuck happened to me. "Love is an eptilectic back and forth" the irony is so intense I could go back to assuming I just had a vitamin deficiency. No one fucking ever noticed no one ever cared and now my dreams have been r... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
The magical girl from across the street. I have her coffee order memorized, And her bike route written down, So I can assist in saving the day with sparkly bandaids and a - 'hi she actually ordered a medium.' She's an reginal adaptation of sailor moon, With an even bigger heart, and even less brain cells. Quite frankly she has saved more people than I can count, Quite frankly one of them is m » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
There's a difference between and a house and a hotel, And I've only felt at home for two months at a time. Wether that be on an island, near the country, or in your arms, The comfort is temporary, But hey. At least the memories last forever. » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
I always viewed myself as art, And I'm hyper critical of everything I paint. . I don't kiss. I mean. I suppose I've tried to twice. Perfect boy, perfect body, perfect smile, not quite perfect me. My front teeth were gifted to me in the third grade a size too big in hopes I'd grow into them. he did a lot of things too fast for me to keep up that night, but when our teeth clonked to » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
I never was a fan of sand. Having grown up where its grains mixed with glass, it never made sense for me to step out onto the beach. Chlorine bleached this heavy heart of mine, so I gave up searching for the calm within the sea when I assumed all that was there for me were pools of sulphur. Then I met you with sun scrubbed skin and hands worn from the wind. The waves have never bent to your desir... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
I promised poetry, But ocean imagery is over used, A trope loved by few and written by those who can't appreciate chaotic nature of the sea, yet the only way I can describe how you feel is the tide against the shore, with your strong scared hands that leave me trembling until I'm filled with nothing but sea foam and desire, And my words drifting ideas through your mind that changes the direction o... » Continue Reading
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