Alternate universe
In an alternate universe
I am 14 and alone in my room
And my hands havent harmed myself yet
Your eyes that once looked like home
Now look like weapons that killed me.
Your face that once spelled out love
Now spells out grief to me.
.
You once were my cure from humanity,
Now I guess I was never meant to heal.
What once brought out the best in me,
Now brings out the poet in me.
.
Your soul that once meant beauty,
Now means emptiness and vain.
Our love that once made us soulmates,
Now makes us strangers again.
.
Your fictive touch, my anxious rush,
Now I know how grief feels.
Your gentle words and brittle oaths,
Now finally I let you ruin me.
Losing a friend
Ask me where it hurts
Everywhere I'll say
Ask me if I miss you
Everyday I'll say
Green eyes
Green eyes more altering than the phases of the moon itself.
Warm green of honeydew when life strikes with kindness.
At crucial times, a poised snake; cautious and still.
A lurid shade of poison ivy, a secret to unveil.
A sea green touch when victorious. A glory to be held.
A lover's touch, an emerald flush. A fondness to be felt.
A steady green of summer leaves, at humour and sheer delight.
Anger darkens them cold and harsh, to the almost black of woods at night.
An endless chase of grief and despair, a helpless shade of teal.
A bleeding heel and olive green. Your eyes they haunt me still.
If life is a cold, harsh night
You are the moon that makes it bearable
For what other thing would thrive?
Even in the most monstrous forms of dark?
If to love is to rest
Then I will perceive death for you.
For what greater form of rest do we know?
Than to lie in the cold, dark earth forever?
If to long is to grieve
Then I shall make home of a funeral
For what harsher grief it is?
Than to irreversibly lose someone
Tw: self harm, ed
Alternate universe
In an alternate universe,
I am 14 and alone in my room,
And my hands haven't harmed myself yet.
In an alternate universe,
My mom isn't emotionally dead,
And my dad isn't the monster yet.
In an alternate universe,
I still have her by my side,
I haven't screwed everything yet.
In an alternate universe,
I don't flinch when I look in the mirror,
There are no scars on my thighs yet.
In an alternate universe,
I still eat like a normal person,
I haven't ruined myself yet.
Tw: self harm
Autumn still
The spring air is filled with laughter and serenity.
Not something to be tainted with my goddamn tragedy.
But I am alone and my wrist is bleeding.
Despair surrounds me like death to the grieving.
I don't know peace; I perhaps never will.
For my disconsolate existence it is autumn still.
Pic via pinterest
You were scared to ruin me
I assured you that you wouldn't
The unsaid truth was this:
I was already ruined
Long before I met you
Long before I knew how to love
And even before you became my home
.
But you left and it felt like death
Everyone said I'd get used to it
The cruel desire was this:
I don't want to get used to you
I don't want time to heal me
I always want you to be
An unbearable ache that kills me
.
My mind is being held hostage by you
And even in grief you feel like home
The maddening question is this:
Will you love the monster in me?
Will you love me at the end of the world?
Will you simply just love me?
Unguarded
I'm sorry I let you see me unguarded.
Let you see my darkness, left you forever haunted.
I'm sorry I killed you with my insecurities.
The atrocity, your ghost is keeping me company.
I'm sorry If I ever dared to make you cry.
For even the skies could fade at the blue of your eyes.
I'm sorry I could never quite be adequate.
You deserve everything and I'm so horribly limited.
I'm sorry I dreamt of us, peaceful under the moon.
A fever dream for someone who only knows how to ruin.
I'm sorry I blamed everything on the distance.
I can't get you to love me without this deafening silence.
I'm sorry I ever thought that we were binary stars.
Always said "I understand" even with a shattered heart.
I'm sorry I didn't listen to my obscene thoughts.
When they precisely said that misery was all I brought.
I'm sorry my hatred wasn't loud enough to hide yours.
A wreckage cannot be loved. I should've hidden my scars.
I'm sorry I ever let you see the real me.
I'll stay constrained just so you won't leave.
I'll hide myself a little to help you breathe.
What can life offer anyway
That I can't have with you in death?
What feels more like home anyway
Than it does besides your grave?
The poem as prey, as blood luscious, elusive. The poem as the locked room.
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