The Worst Thing You Ever Did Was To Make Me Believe I Could Be Loved

What a subtle form of self harm it is to love you.

Such a gruesome death to die.

What a comfort it is to be to be loved by you.

Such a torment it is to be not.

What am I?

A strange thing to wonder

I'm the anger of my father,

And the silent cries of my mother.

I'm the broken pieces of childhood,

Of a once happy daughter.

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?

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. 

Future love

Perhaps one day you'll hold me, once and forever.

Intoxicated we will be, lost in each other.

And then in the dark, you will touch the right parts of me.

In hushed tones I will show you, that you and I were meant to be.

Then slowly I will learn, how to truly love me.

And gently I will heal, like all my grief ceased to exist.

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?

Tw: self harm, self loathing

A girl lies on her bedroom floor.

She bleeds through her eyes and cries through her veins.

I watch her helplessly and let her fall apart.

Everyday she fights long lost battles and dies gruesome deaths.

Her life is nothing but a grave full of dead hopes.

I watch her and do nothing.

Perhaps because there isn't much left of her to be saved.

She is covered in bruises I don't recognize her anymore.

I watch her with curiosity.

Her eyes dark and cold like the night itself, she reeks of misery.

A home full of ghosts, none of them remotedly as dead as her soul.

I watch her mercilessly.

After all that's what monsters like her deserve.

I say, and I stop watching her.

No part of her deserves to be loved.

I say, and I step away from the mirror.

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

Dear universe

At 13 I thought that the universe hates me. For it made me tainted and it made me unlovable. Perhaps it was true; or perhaps I was just 13. Now I finally see that there are things that actually love me.

The darkness holds me still and grief kisses my hand. The demons in my head tell me it'll be fine. And hunger kind of always stays along with this unbearable ache. Longing lingers like a lonely child and sinister thoughts eat me up inside. Years of misery and wishing to be dead. Screams of terror and weeps of fate. But dear universe I wont complain. For dear universe I still am loved.