Twenty six

He was just one of 
those poetic nightmares
that made my words spill
down the pages.

you’re just one
of those poems
that won’t commit
suicide.

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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

Imagine That

Imagine that you are made of stars.
A hundred million tiny points of light that make you more beautiful than anyone else. Imagine that, all at once, you are in every wonderful place in the world. Everything looks like cupcakes and sounds like your favourite song. Imagine that you are everything you ever wanted to be and that there is no such thing as happiness because you never need to feel anything other than perfectly, beautifully content like those blissful moments between sex and sleep. Imagine that all around you, existence swirls by like golden autumnal leaves that have been snatched up for a waltz by the breeze. Imagine that all the best moments of your life are pieced together to create everything that is happening to you. Imagine being able to feel the binds of his restraints around your wrists with the taste of his skin on your tongue. Imagine that every time you breathe, it smells of him and every time you blink, his slow smile spreads across the insides of your eyelids. Imagine that you don’t know how to do anything other than be in love.

Imagine that, one at a time, all of the stars are extinguished and you start to fade away. Imagine that, as quickly as your heart can beat, a sparkling star becomes a flake of ash that falls and drifts away from you. Imagine that all of the beauty surrounding you disintegrates into itself until it becomes a mass of liquid nothingness at your feet. Imagine a stillness so silent that you wonder how anything could ever have been real. Imagine the fear you feel as you realize that you are losing yourself . You are left alone, in an almost-dark space staring into a pool of everything that you once had but didn’t deserve, knowing that it could only have been a matter of time before fate realized its mistake. Imagine that you are staring at what should have been forever, wishing on the last few stars that are left that this is just a dream, and wondering how it is possible for one person to be this broken.

Spilled Ink

Use me

Like a pen uses ink 

Beautiful. Original. Interminable.

Write until your heart is spilled completely on the page for me to 

EXAMINE

Until there is no ink left 

To write with…

Write to me about love and tragedy and painfully gorgeous moments 

Hand in hand.

Flesh on flesh.

Mouth on mouth.

Love & sin.

Free

There’s been a film
Collecting on my bones

The way poetry seems to,

The way love condenses

And spills over;
Unnecessary. 
I’ve been learning to live alone,

Enveloping myself in the 

Emptiness like a moth-eaten quilt

At midnight.
It is safe here,

With the memories

Tucked away, but

I am done with this

Shrapnel,

I am not broken anymore

And I have no intention

Of pleasing you. 
You can break my bones before 

I’ll surrender,

‘Cause I know this ache

This tar of my bloodstream;

Molten flecks of my memories, 

The pieces of you 

I couldn’t stand to keep 

I know this sorrow and I reject it

And this is the monster you’ve been left with:

A girl who will not succumb

To sadness,

Who is no one’s but her own

And belongs to nothing

But her dreams.
And for the first time,

I feel invincible.

Break.

“but please don’t make me,not anymore.”

the faucet’s leaking out my soul tonight,

i think i’m drowning in old memories

that i forgot i had,

so do you think you could tell me

if my face has turned violet yet?

i’ve been weaving words into my skin,

but every time i sit down and let the nothingness

wash over me, it seems as if there’s too many words

in my head

for there to ever be anything left

to say.

my favorite color’s always been the opposite

of whoever’s sitting next to me,

and once i say “i’ll do it”

i can never bring myself to sit down,

think,

and actually see it through,

no matter how much i want to.

i’m not who i used to be, you see,

i was something too hard to comprehend, i overwhelmed.

parts of me don’t know who they are, but

you seem to keep me tied down

just enough

for me to fly without

flying away.
(awayawayaway.)

“come back now, please,”

i yell across the cushion clouds,

but you’re lost inside your own contradictions,

and i’m starting to wonder if there’s nothing i can do

to save you, anymore.

i’m afraid of causing

more trouble than i’m worth,

because i know that once i find a place where i can let go,

i never can pull myself back in and i always end up

making a mess on the floor of

black and blue and “i hate you”s,

and you’re too beautiful

for me.

say goodbye before hello,

it would be nice to stir things up.

and i’m afraid that because of where you come from,

you won’t ever be able to break

the padlock that’s been put on your soul, and be what i need.

(ineediwantiloveyou.)

i’ll show you everything, 

i’ll be there when you fly,

i’ll be the thing that rips away your petty chains and tells you to just go and go and go.

because it’s okay to hate yourself some times.

Under the stars 

When I was young I could only imagine death , my obsession grew and I lay awake at night surrounded in darkness imagining nothing, no one really to talk to or explain it all to me. So I filled this blank dark space with stars, and each star was alive with someone I cared about, and slowly as I grew older the stars started to fill up and there was no blank space or stars, and as people filtered into my life only to leave again yet again I fill the black sky thinking of death as I always do, and I see stars and light shining way above me. And the silence you ask? well I simply fill that with music, so much music, sad songs, happy songs, strange songs, noises that fill every sense of your soul, and leaves you thinking, IF I am truly alone, how can someone create something that sings to my soul?

See there is never darkness around you, how could you possibly see the darkness if there was never any light? And tell me this if it is so quiet, if you too are alone with no one to talk too like me, no one to reach out too – tell me why there is a song in your head soothing your soul, some forgotten gem that drifts into your mind. IF you truly fear the dark why can a stunning sunset draw a tear to your eye, we cannot possibly never hurt, or cry, parts of us will die inside, the other parts they will fight for you, there is no tomorrow for any of us nothing in life is certain, but we have today and we have right now, and the ability within that not one of us can measure until it is needed.

The day maybe drawing to a close, you may like me be frustrated by it all, thinking what have I achieved, what have I done, I can answer without asking, you have lived today, you are breathing and that is inspirational in itself.

 There is hope in living, however strained it is there, there are stars to guide you and music to love you, hope can consume you. Maybe Idealistic maybe not, what is certain is you have the here and now, and you will have love, and you will find that place, go gently forward because the past is not something you can change, but the future is yours to shape.

Now

“Laying alone with the history that made you cold and uncertain inside. Careful now, deep breath, the water’s still rising. But your silver lining’s in sight.”

What could of been, should of been, might of been?

What you see, what you think, whats real, and whats not.

Confusion, peace, despair, hope, anger, sadness, happiness.

If only this. If only that. Just to go back. Just to move forward.

But stop.

There is here. There is now. There is you and nothing else.

My thoughts pull me under and I reach for you to pull me up. You deliver me from myself and provide the easy silence I need, the comfort and protection.

Never fooling me into believing its over or going to be easy, but just promising yourself, never for me to be alone.

Dear Someone

I don’t know who you are or why I had the sudden urge to write this. You could be anyone in the whole wide world. But for some reason, you were on my heart this morning. I haven’t slept all night, and I guess staring at the ceiling makes one think about what really matters.

You’re one-of-a-kind, you know that? Not factory-made, not mass-produced, not something but someone. Even if you’re a twin or triplet, you’re uniquely and wonderfully you. There is something about you that no one else has, and that the world would be woefully without if it were taken away. From the curve of your eyelashes to the barest hint of a smile at one corner of your mouth when you’re trying not to laugh, you’re a collection of little miracles all wrapped up into one special and wonderfully made package. Each of your cells custom-made, chains of DNA specifically forged and coded just for you. But you’re more than science. You’re tangible and intangible, physical and ethereal, radiating emotion and life from your mass and though you may not see it, you’re an essential part of this world. You’re not an accident, and you’re here for a reason. Though it’s sometimes hard to understand why things can be so hard, and you may come to question your very existence, you must never let go. Because with you gone, there’d be a black hole that’d suck everyone into a gloomy darkness, because your light would be irreplaceably extinguished. You may think you’re unloved, friendless, rejected, alone, but you’re never really alone. Every word and deed you speak and commit form a thread in the web of your life, and you never know how another person, invisible to you, may need that thread as a lifeline. So don’t hold back; don’t give up. Remember that people need you to be you and that you’re not just a statistic, not just a name or a number, but a living breathing amazing person, someone who’s part of something bigger than life itself. Times are tough, you may fail and fail again, but you must never stop trying. Never, ever. There are dreams waiting for you to discover, people waiting for you to come into their lives and brighten their days, and miracles waiting to happen. Just please, please, please believe. Because believing is what makes dreams come true, even if they’re dreams you never knew you even had.
-Rosie 

Hope

There are times when one loses hope. When one just stands there, for a single moment, and stares. Just stares out into the horizon, looking and looking, almost as if waiting for something to come. But it never comes. They stand there, they watch, and they wait, and they are disappointed. No one is exactly sure what keeps giving them hope, or enough courage to stand there another time, but something does. Something, deep down, reaches up into their mind and says, wait again, it will come. So they wait because that’s what the voice told them to do, that’s what their feelings say, and they keep waiting. Some wait all of their life, without ever getting what they want. Others, the voice just stops trying, stops telling them to go back and look, they just stop. And some, never get there at all. 

Is it wrong for them to have that hope? To dream that dream that one day, whatever they are looking for will finally come? Maybe it is wrong, maybe they have been misled, and misjudged, and they don’t know what they are truly supposed to do anymore, but its never wrong to them. That hope that they lost, maybe it wasn’t really lost at all. Maybe it just settled down for awhile, itself also waiting, for the day when it is supposed to come back. Maybe its going to come back, but that body that they inhabit doesn’t last long enough for its return. 

Sometimes people stand there, and while they are looking, they give up. For a fraction of a second, they stand there, and they think to themselves, “Its not going to happen,” and then that’s the end. Sometimes that one person, standing, and all alone, is too alone to keep going. That their giving up has nothing to do with who they are, or what they want, or what they can do, but has everything to do with the fact of how strong they are when they stand alone, and wait. Sometimes one loses hope, but is it our place to say whether or not they get it back again?