Untitled.

My breaths are shallow 
& i swallow the whimpers like
Water; too hastily, as if i’d been trapped in a desert all year
But you asked me to keep breathing
& we both know i want to do just that
It’s just sometimes 
What i have to do to survive, is too damaging too.

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Forgetting.

I’m pinned to the wall collecting dead skin cells from all the lovers you’ve pressed up against me.

I’m pinned to your forehead like a note your mother leaves when you take a nap.

I’m pinned to the door, swinging aimlessly in an abandoned house that’s going to fall apart soon.

I’m pinned to your lips, as they kiss the back of her hand.

I’m pinned to all these beautiful dreams of yours, that are sitting in a forgotten old cabinet in your study.

I’m pinned to every place you’ve been: Spain, Russia, France. Here.

I’m pinned to the underside of the coffee table you put your feet on while you watch TV.

I’m pinned to the insecurities you think about when you’re alone.

I’m pinned to that relationship you know you should fix, but don’t.

I’m pinned to your chest, like the girl in your bed last night was.

I’m pinned to the drops of sweat running down your neck, cold and distracting.

I’m pinned to all the lies you hate yourself for telling.

I’m pinned to your breath, your lungs, your throat, the top of your mouth.

I’m pinned to the music playing as you sleep.

I’m pinned to the moment when you think of me, and then push me away to the back of your mind.

Between life and death

again and again on my knees

broken by those who should help me stand

not sad nor happy in this life

forgotten

 

fallen

 

and getting up

again

again and again

every time

after every fall

more determined to keep standing

more desperate to avoid another

fall

 

depression doesn´t hurt

it´s beyond limits of sadness

beyond any other feeling known by mam

 

why?

being alive is too hard

there are easier ways around

 

why to stand up after fall?

 

standing

stubbornly holding on worthless things

patiently crying when no one hears

broken pieces glued together

by what?

 

life

 

effort testing limits of strength

buying time to find more will

forgetting to smile

what did it feel like

for the last time?

 

and again

 

falling

Make me forget 

(Laying myself bare)

You almost made me forget, love.

You almost made me forget the hurt; the pain; the sorrow.

You almost made me forget about the emptiness:

 You almost made me forget his name.

You almost gave me hope;

You almost made me think that I might be whole again;

                                    Someday

 You almost gave me hope that I can be fixed, 

 You almost made me think that maybe,

 I could fall in love again.

 You gave me hope that maybe; I really wasn’t this

                               B-R/O-K/E-N

You almost made my heart beat faster,

You almost made me really smile, 

You almost made me want to let you in;

You almost made me want to be with you;

You almost made me think I could be happy.

You almost made me forget, sir.

You almost made me forget that he and I ever happened.

You almost made me forget his face & his eyes; the color of deep emeralds.

You almost made me forget the way he kissed me,

You almost made me forget the way his savagery felt.

You almost made me forget.

                                      {Why couldn’t you make me forget?}

You almost gave me hope that I was strong,

You almost made me think that I had enough left to make it through,

                                   You almost gave me hope.

  You almost made me think you could heal me,

  You almost made me wanna try and make it work with you,

  You almost became my light;

  You almost became something to keep me together.

  You almost kept me from falling apart.

  You almost made me forget.

Sir, I want to forget.

I want to forget they way he looked at me with his dark forest eyes.

                        I want to forget his taste,

                        I want to forget his face

                        I want to forget the way he said my pet;

                        I want to forget the way he said he loved me.

                        I want to forget he ever claimed to love me.

                        I want to forget his scent,

                        I want to forget the way his arms wrapped so tightly around my throat;

                        I want to forget the way it felt to have me fear him.

                        I want to forget.

                        {ithurtstoremember}

Please, sir, make me forget

{therestoomuchpaininthememories}

MAKE ME FORGET!

 Please;

 I don’t wanna remember.

These memories are haunting me,
But you keep the demons away,

So will you please stay?

You almost made me forget,

 You almost gave me hope

  You almost made me want you

& You could have succeeded in all these things but,

                               You left.

You left me alone for one short moment,

But it was long enough for the pain to come back,

& by the time you returned, I remembered everything.

You almost made me forget-

 I need to forget!

 
Sir, make me forget.

 Look at me with your summer-storm eyes,

 & be my summer rain in the dead of winter,

 Wash away my hurt, cleanse me.

  Drown everything out be the very existence of you, of me, of us.

I need to be held together,

So wrap me up in your arms and hold me close,

Don’t let go;

I don’t wanna fall apart tonight.

Hold me closely,

Let me heal in your protective embrace,

Let me forget,

Erase my pain with your words and whips.

I don’t know exactly where this is going 

All I know is that I need you, you make me forget the pain

& Right now, that’s exactly what I need,

Sir, please hold me, kiss me, tell me you care,

& Make me forget as only you ever can.

Make me

It isn’t within me to let go on my own. It needs to be taken. Made to let go.

Make me let go?
Swallow up my fight and thwart my spinning inner workings with pain and pleasure. Overwhelm me. Wash over me in waves of heat from curve of breast to curl of feet.

Make me let go.

I know you see my need. In the way I look at you, pleading with open tearing eyes. I know. My voice is small, meek in its whispering in my mind.

Help me. Hurt me. Find me. Break me. Build me. Hurt me. Hold me. Kiss me.

Please, make me let go.

Make the burdens of my world gone, bring me focus.

Make me feel.

Call out my voice from me in pleading, trembling, begging words.

Make me.

Make me let go of the things I hide behind. The false smiles and well learned deflections, take them from me.

Shower me in rains of our sweat and fluids and clasp me, grasp me in knowing hands.

Reduce me. Use me. Help me. Hurt me.

Make me let go.

I beg you please,make me. I know you see it in my shivers. Hear it in my strained cries. Taste it on my warm lips and searching tongue. Feel it when my muscles clamp tight pulsing around you and your hands. I want this, please?

Make me let go.

Overtake me. Consume me. Restrain me. Pain me. Release me.
When my pieces are soggy with tears and spittle, when the broken parts are welted and bruised, when the hidden slivers of me are coated in you and sweat.

Then make me see I am not so broken, but treasured.

Make me let go of the things that haunt me, with your gentle strokes and cooing, calming words.

Make me lose the veils that cloud mine eyes as you kiss away tears.

Help me. Hurt me. Seduce me. Save me. Console me. Control me. Keep me. Take me.

Make me.

 

Pleas and please

My head is full of clutter and begging for simplification.

Fuck feels. Fuck plans. Fuck thinking in any way shape or form.

Make me useful.

Remove second guessing with actions that leave only one possible reaction.

Make it hurt, not because I earned it or even because you want it to, but because that’s the way it is sometimes when you’re alive instead of just living.

I need to feel it, to feel something sensical in the silence between the screams.

Make me beg for it, desperately debased in the face of unknown hunger and unrivaled desire. Give me yours until mine overflows in pleas and please.

If ever you’ve wanted me, however you’ve wanted me, now is the time to show it. Telling is for the dreamers, and for once I’m feeling awake and reveling in reality.

Be real with me.

“I know”

the music is on and I can feel it booming into my bones, cracking them open.

my brain is pounding and I can see it.

I am breaking and I can hear it.

alive but not functioning, I cannot move.

falling into the floor, falling under.

falling.
falling.
falling.

waves of fear splashing onto the sides of my brain, breathing into each crack. footsteps crawling on me like thoughts, questions fading in but then out when no answer arrives.

I can taste the warm air that comes from his mouth. my lips are cracked but I let him keep kissing me. I can taste his air, his teeth, and his blood. I close my eyes as the cold air slips into my mouth, goes down my spine and into my toes. he rests a hand on my jaw and I break open, smoke from my body filling the room immediately.

“this is bad,” he says.

“I know.”

I know.

I think my soul leaked.

The lights hurt me; the sounds do too. Everything hurts. I hide behind my hands. It’s not enough to calm me down. It’s not enough to protect me.

I’m not shaking. My breathing isn’t heavy. It’s all inside. I’m paralyzed. This is nothing, I say to myself. I’m not even shaking, this is stupid, I say. Why don’t you move? Why? But I just can’t. I want to cry.

 I’m mad at myself for being so weak. I’m mad at myself for being sick while my body isn’t showing any signs. I’m not shaking. I feel stupid. You’re a mess, Rosie. 

My hands are glued to my forehead, like a small roof infusing my eyes with a light darkness. I can’t move. If I move I won’t be fine. I find a semblance of comfort and safety in this position. 

My body wouldn’t respond anyways, would it? If I try to move I’ll fall, won’t I? If I don’t see him, he doesn’t exist therefore he can’t see me and I can be fine.

I want to cry. I just want to go home. I want to hide. I need silence and the comfort of my bed to relive this moment over and over in my head and torture myself. I don’t want to be here anymore. But I don’t want to move. 

To get out, I’ll have to take my hands away from my face and that’ll leave me exposed. Exposed to the light, the sounds, the eyes, the room. I don’t want to face this. 

Maybe if I remain like this long enough I’ll disappear; or maybe he will. I want to try this. I don’t feel strong enough to look up. This denim skirt makes my legs look fine. These are my legs. From my body, right?

I hear her speak. Her?? It’s so far yet so close. She says “I’ll help you home , okay?” No, it isn’t okay. It’s not. But if it isn’t for you I won’t get out of here. She moves and grabs my jacket. I can’t get up. She’s waiting for me. 

I don’t care if I have to rip my skin off to get those hands away from me. I get up. I’m sorry. But thank you, oh thank you so much. My skin is intact. But I’m burning up. 

We walk. I can’t look up. The noise is killing me. I stare at her feet and follow them. I say sorry to them. My tongue is missing. My mouth is a hollow cavity that cannot even gulp down enough air to ease the lightheadedness. Thank you for saving me from this hell. Does she know?? 

She stops many times. Let’s get food. You need sugar. There are so many people. They’re all probably staring at me right now. “Look at that weird bruised girl with her eyes glued to the floor.” “Why does she play with her hands like that?” I feel ugly. Stop staring. We wait in line to pay. This feels like forever. I feel weird. Tea with 4 sugars she all but forced down me. 

It’s okay.

We walk out. I close my jacket and put my hood up. I don’t want to see the lights and surely not the people in the streets. I stare at the ground and let my feet do the job. I’m on autopilot. My body is. My mind is busy overthinking everything and going back on old and fresher memories and stamp everything with guilt, shame, doubt or anything else it feels the need to. I feel like crying but it won’t work. I let my feet carry me. They know the damn road too well by now. I feel horrible. Shaking. But not very much still.

Halfway home. Now I feel numb. I open my jacket. It’s getting hot in here. Get rid of the hood. The light doesn’t hurt anymore. I don’t feel very real. I think about my small room and how it’s devoid of people; how it’s devoid of the outside world. I feel sad. Is this how my life shall be till the end? I don’t like being alone. I don’t like this poisonous bubble. But part of me doesn’t want to pop it; not that I could.

Home. 

Goodbye Rosie get some rest you’ll be fine. 

Finally inside. I get rid of the damn jacket and walk into the bathroom. I’m slightly shaking and my breathing is heavy but not so much. I take my clothes off and wish someone would do it for me. This is so tiring. I manage. I get in the shower and almost burn to death. I can’t think fast enough. After three tries, I get the right temperature; not really, but good enough. I stand numbly under the water and let it wash away the infinite bullshit I am covered in. I can’t cry. I get out.

Now I’ve got to put clothes on. The. Struggle. I don’t feel anything anymore. I brush my teeth. Boy, do I look ugly. So much darkness on my face. My soul leaked again, I think. 

I stare into space as I mechanically fill a glass of water and sit on the bed. I grab my computer. It’s so slow. Please, don’t do this right now. I need some music. It’s finally on. Struggling to give me what I ask for, but hey, I can’t complain. “Like master, like pet” or whatever. I finally get my music. I hesitate. I don’t know what I need right now, I think. I listen to one song. Then another one. Still not it. I DON’T KNOW. I finally settle on Nine Inch Nails downward spiral album and open my WordPress tab.

I type down some shit on a draft. I start typing what I think will be a poem but soon turns out to be a weird somehow vague post about how fucked I am. I’m hungry but I brush it off; my body won’t accept it, I won’t swallow and ugh. The pain sets in. Every inch of my body aches. Painkillers. I throw them back my neck.
I post what I wrote and pick a book in the hopes of finding some peace of mind. My stare is still very far away. I’m not here anymore. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be back in the cockpit. Maybe not. Every day is a surprise. What will I get? What degree of hell? How will I manage?