bleedspink

[bleedspink]

hands trembling like moths

-

hands trembling like moths—
soft against the glass,
reaching for light,
but there is no light here.

in the quiet,
i gather dust
in the hollow of my chest—
the spaces where things once fit,
now empty.

the things we said,
the promises we wrapped in ribbons—
they fall apart, thread by thread,
too delicate to hold
and too heavy to ignore.

hands trembling like moths—
but there’s no moon to chase,
no wind to guide me home.
just the stillness
of knowing you’re already gone,
and all that’s left is
a pale, broken echo
of something that was never meant to stay.

[bleedspink]

you

-

your voice
spills like sunlight
through the cracks in me,
and i let it—
let it fill every hollow
like it belongs there

i don’t remember life
before the sound of you.
it’s woven in now,
threaded through the days,
like something sacred
i never meant to find.

when you speak,
the world softens.
my chest blooms
with something warm and reckless—
something that says
stay.
please.
always

there’s a shimmer to everything
when you’re near,
like the whole sky
leans closer
just to listen.

i hold your voice
like a drunk holds a memory—
sweet,
slurred,
a little too much,
but never enough

[bleedspink]

You're not just in my heart, you're in my prayers, my drafts, my dreams.

[bleedspink]

sugarcoat

-

the walls hum in soft pink.
powdered sugar light
sticks to my skin
like something saccharine
trying to smother the rot.

plush carpet muffles my footsteps.
every corner is padded—
stuffed with velvet animals
whose glass eyes never blink.
they stare like they know.
like they remember.

the scent of artificial strawberries
hangs heavy in the air,
too sweet, too forced.
it clings to my clothes,
my hair,
my throat.
i choke on the nostalgia.

gold bangles clack against my wrists
when i cover my ears.
sometimes silence is worse
than the screaming was.
sometimes silence is just
another way to listen too hard.

i suck on hard candy
until it slices my tongue.
grin red.
pretend it's cherry.

under my bed—
a shoebox full of secrets.
crayon drawings,
a locket with a stranger’s face,
a dress i don’t remember wearing
but still can’t throw away.

the mirror reflects someone
smaller than she should be.
shoulders curved in like parentheses,
like she’s trying to fold
into the space of someone
who never made it past twelve.

i wrap myself in fleece,
layers and layers,
until the weight quiets the shaking.
call it comfort.
but it’s really armor
stitched in bows and pastel thread.

don’t touch the doorknob.
don’t raise your voice.
don’t ask.
just sit quietly
in the pink glow
and pretend
you’ve always been safe.

[bleedspink]

im so tired of always feeling like i did something wrong and that everyone is so annoyed by me

[bleedspink]

glass lungs

-

i can’t think

i can’t—

think—

there’s something

buzzing

behind

my

eyes

a fly

in a jar

a scream

no mouth

the lights

too bright

too white

too everywhere

skin’s crawling

off of me

off of me

off of me

the floor tilts

but no one notices

why doesn’t anyone—

notice?

voices

voices

voices

colors spill through walls

are the walls laughing?

maybe it’s me

breathe

no.

too loud.

the air is glass

and i’m choking on it

humming in the ceiling

humming in my spine

a live wire

and i—

scream

(inside)

inside

and no one

turns

around.

[bleedspink]

beneath the skin

-

tear me open,
rip back my skin like brittle parchment—
beneath, the rot festers,
a pulse of decay,
a scream too small to escape.

touch it.
the bruises, the bleeding,
the ache lodged between my ribs,
growing sharper when i’m forced
to face the thing inside.

cut me open with your fingers,
peel back the layers—
find the withered heart,
blackened and thorned,
grown from roots where love should have been.

tear me open,
let the blood spill—
maybe then you’ll see
the weight of me,
too heavy to bear,
too cracked to fix.

if you rip me open,
maybe the ache will stop,
the poison will pour out,
and i’ll stop pretending
there’s anything worth saving.

so tear me open.
let the darkness pour from my mouth,
the silent scream nobody hears.
maybe if you peel it all away,
i’ll see myself—
a thing broken,
still refusing to die.

[bleedspink]

[bleedspink]

glassmouth

-

i was born a cathedral of soft stone,
worshipped only by silence and cafeteria cruelties.
the other children carved hymns into my flesh with plastic forks,
their laughter echoing like church bells made of spite.

my mirror is a funhouse,
its curves designed to mock me—
a carnival god feeding tickets to the demon in my gut
who counts ribs like rosary beads and asks
“is this holy enough yet?”

some days i disappear by inches,
offer my flesh to the altar of hunger
like it’s penance for ever having taken up space.

inside,
a girl with glass teeth
chews compliments like broken candy,
spits them out before they touch her tongue.

[bleedspink]

I want romance. I want laughter. I want the 3am love making. I want consistency. I want loyalty. I want the random looks of admiration. I want to know you're just for me. I want date nights and flowers. I want truth. I want priority. I want love that's pure and calming.

[bleedspink]

these three poems go together. i’m sorry it’s so long

unholy (1/3)

-

they told me i was a temple

but now the doors don’t close right

the floorboards creak under shape

and there’s blood in the holy water

i gave it away

not even for love

just to feel like something worth touching

and when it was over

i felt less than nothing

i went home and prayed

my knees bruised

begging god to undo it

to knit me back together

to roll the stone back

and let me rise again, clean

they never said how long since sticks

how even after the body forgets

the soul keeps screaming

unclean

unclean

unclean

i asked the church for mercy

they gave me silence

i asked my mother for comfort

she gave me a look i’ll never forget

i asked god to take it all back

but he just watched

and stayed

quiet

i want it back

my hymen

my worth

my place in heaven

i want to be born again

but i don’t think he’s listening

-

afterbirth (2/3)

-

the silence is thick,

a suffocating thing

pressing against my chest,

forcing out what little breath i have left.

i can’t shake it off,

can’t remember how to make a sound

without it choking me.

i wait for something to change,

but time moves like mud-

heavy and slow,

and nothing ever breaks.

nothing.

the absence of him,

the absence of me,

are the same.

i don’t remember how to speak

without feeling my words die

before they reach the air.

ever sentence starts

and then crumbles-

unfinished prayers

that no one ever listens to.

my body is a wound

i’m too tired to heal.

i peel off my skin in dreams,

but it doesn’t matter-

the good stains my hands

no matter how many times i wash.

i’m forever dirty.

the church never gave me salvation-

they gave me silence.

a hollow altar where i knelt

and begged for forgiveness

that was never coming.

i waited for him,

but god never showed up.

i carved my name

into the emptiness instead,

as if it could mean something when nothing ever could.

nothing left but the hollow echo

of what i was.

the voice i’ve become.

-

resurrect me (3/3)

-

they never came back,

the ones who promised

to save me from myself

so i learned to rise alone.

the quiet feels heavier now,

like the weight of things unsaid,

like standing in the wreckage

of everything i thought i was,

and still finding a way to stand.

i baptize myself

in the blood they said should shame me-

and for the first time,

i let it burn.

not in regret,

but in something new,

something raw,

something that is mine and theirs to never take.

this body is mine.

not a promise.

not a sin.

mine.

i don’t ask for forgiveness

from a god who never answered,

and i don’t kneel anymore.

i don’t need their prayers,

i take what i want

without asking.

my skin-

the curves and edges

they told me to hide,

are mine again,

and soft is a weapon

when it’s unafraid.

in the quiet,

i remember what it felt like

to be touched

without shame,

what it feels like

to want without fear.

and in that softness,

i find my power.

they tried to break me,

tried to strip me of my name,

but i am still standing,

still burning,

still claiming

every inch of myself.

i walk through this world

with my name carved into my chest-

and they will remember

that i am enough.

that i was always enough.

[bleedspink]

[bleedspink]

love me

-

do you really love me?

do you think about me when you’re alone?

do your fingers twitch when i’m gone?

please, love me.

show me how you love me.

with your hands, your mouth, your words.

let me live inside your skin.

let me ruin your sleep.

please, love me.

they say love is soft.

but i want it to leave bruises.

i want to be the ache in your chest.

the scream behind your teeth.

if i don’t fill your brain, it must not be love.

it’s not love unless you’re frothing at the mouth.

i want to be a fever you never shake.

i want to haunt you.

please, love me.

i wish to be desired with such a sick intensity.

to the point that it’s horrifying and dangerous.

otherwise, it won’t feel like love.

please

love

me

[bleedspink]

i want an ikea rat

awww

[bleedspink]

the mirror

-

every morning i look into the mirror

i stare at her with disgust

i want to wrap my fingers around her throat

squeeze tightly

i want to watch the life leave her eyes

until her ocean eyes become a sickly grey

i want to stab her over and over

watch the crimson flow

pour down her pretty pale skin

i want to break her bones

make her hurt like she hurt me

when she’s finally dead

on the bathroom floor

i mourn what used to be

[bleedspink]

bad dog

-

looking eye to eye

i see something in her

she growls when she’s nervous

she’s a bad dog

i hear her cry

patches of matted fur

designed just to serve us

she’s a bad dog

i reach out to touch her

to show her she’s good

looking eye to eye

i see something in her mouth

pink flesh, red blood

she’s a very bad dog

[bleedspink]

filthy

-

blood and dirt under my fingernails

i’ve been scrubbing for 20 years

asking for the water to run clear

but no matter how hard i try

i will never rid myself of the grime

i’d drop down to my knees

begging for forgiveness

with my words, my eyes, my mouth

praying to god every night

let your blood wash me clean

rotten from the inside out

i’ve never felt right in this body

i wish to exchange this brain

replace this heart

be born again and start over