#halobleedsinkpoetry

[saturnsenby]

Negative Space

The greatest love songs are just weak imitations of your heartbeat.

Thats what i learned with my lips on your jugular vein.

You taste like real fuckin music babe.

I couldn’t replicate it if i learned to play every instrument ever made

The sweetest poetry nothing but a mockery of your face

Don’t laugh at me,

But i get frustrated with the stars for trying so hard to look like your freckles and still failing.

It doesn’t seem fair that the cosmos have been here for eons,

And then you come along

Taking over the gravitational pull of everything

Easy like the universe lives between your guitar strings.

But i get why it would want to.

There aint nothin in this multiverse like you.

If every dimension had its own color with unique depths and hues,

I would still wear you.

I swear every time i start a piece now you’re the red im trying to recreate

Nothing in my extensive paint collection adds up to your eyes quite correctly

How did falling leaves get it right so effortlessly

How do i see you in every negative space

[clitchakra]

And You And I

Eyelids like butterfly wings dusted by eyelashes like feathers fall shut to cover eyes like fall leaves and you, Are my favorite season. Because even though butterfly wings would fall to shattered pieces in your temperatures, When you look at me like that the sunshine in your eyes is more than enough to keep us breathing and you, Are my favorite walk in the park, Because even though I have never held your hand your calluses feel like springtime and you will never stop being new to me. And even though I have never been on your arm I know that you've got to feel something like dancing in the rain and you, Are my favorite mixtape. Because no one understands the tune of me quite like you and no one is more skilled at orchestrating my heartbeat. And you match me step for step without ever using a stethoscope and you Have no idea how much that means to me cause I've been getting tired of tripping over myself but you always let me dance on your feet and I Never thought I'd get to wear a pretty dress like this again. Cause I've been stuck in dish rags but you say you love me in jeans and I Could spend hours just listening to you breathe, If you'd let me and you, Say my jeans are like ball gowns and your t-shirt on my shoulders is like coming home again but only if they're on me and, And I am just glad that I get to wear this pretty dress. We are dancing, Keeping tempo with your heartbeat and I love how when we do this we just keep spinning faster and you, Are my favorite sweater because you engulf me like hot chocolate and you are warm, Like eyes like fall leaves and I, Want to dive into you, And ignore my allergies because I know you'll have a tissue and I, Will ignore how I can't breathe around you and you, Are my favorite suffocation anyway. Cause you feel like a second first kiss and this time, I swear that I will do it right, Because you are my favorite beginning and I hope you never end, But if you do, At least let me hold your hand and, Let me kiss your cheek. Because when autumn leaves fade and butterfly wings fall to dust beneath my fingertips I will still find them beautiful, I promise. And you, Can take my breath away with a blink of your eyelashes like feathers and I, Will not fight it and, And you and I, Are my favorite story, And I can't wait to turn to the next page.

[saturnsenby]

If I Should Die

Give me no burial,

No funeral,

No grave.

Give me no resting place.

I am a wanderer in my soul.

Give me no black car parade,

No roses before dirt-fall.

My worst fear is being buried alive.

I have seen what we are when we are sleeping,

And when we are awake.

If I should die,

Give me no churches,

No saints.

Give me no goodbye,

I have not gone anywhere.

Do not fear our physical distance,

I am united now more purely than ever with the fabric of our everything.

You can feel me in the breeze,

See me in your face,

In the earth,

Do not bury me.

Do not forget me beneath the surface.

Give me your memories,

And give me your thoughts,

Remember me fondly.

Know that if I should be,

I’m sorry.

And that if you should be,

No worries,

I will be the karma that balances you,

As one day you will also be.

Give me your tears,

And I will be the air that dries them,

Will be the soft silence in your room once you’ve finished crying that lulls you to sleep,

To visit me.

I will be the chaotic white noise that wakes you in the morning.

If I should die,

Give me your grief.

Let me take it with me when i leave.

Give me your anger when you need,

And I will be the fire in your cheeks that burns the temper from you,

Will be the tingle in your limbs after the flames subside from the grand towers of your eyes.

Give me your joy,

The butterflies in your stomach every time you fall in love.

Let them swarm and feel their wings brush the inner lining of your belly,

The way you once felt my heartbeat.

Consider them of the same origin.

Give me your fear,

Give me every time the butterflies turn out to be wasps,

Every time they sting.

I will turn them to honey bees,

Will be your natural course of healing.

I will be the hot water of your showers when you are lonely.

Give me all of your lonely.

I will run through your hair and ease the tension in your body.

If I should die,

Burn me.

Look anywhere when you miss the vision of me.

I will be in the roots of every weeping willow tree,

In every leaf,

In every newborn peony.

Feel me in all of my poetry,

In all of the pictures you have of me,

In all of my favorite songs,

In every song.

I will be the melodies that permeate you incessantly.

I am there to sing to you,

To dance with you again through your feet.

When you dream of me,

Believe.

I have rejoined the stars of our subconscious.

And when you feel me,

Recognize me.

If i should die,

Write me no eulogy.

Leave nothing for the wind to carry.

Carry on,

And I will be the currents beneath you.

If i should die burn me to ashes and when they fall,

Walk away from me,

Wander far but but hold me closely.

If you need,

Keep your distance from me.

I will be there for our reintroduction whenever you are ready.

If i should die,

Give me your happy,

Your lovely,

Your ugly.

Give me your pleasure,

And your pain.

Give me your betrayal and your loyalty and don’t worry about sorting it out for me,

Where I am I can see you with clarity.

If I should die,

Give me nothing.

Give me everything.

If i should die,

Give me immortality.

Give me Life.

[saturnsenby]

The death of a star takes a fraction of a second.

Days to build the fireball,

Months for it to fade.

No one is really sure why it has to end that way.

And it has been so long that even the red dwarves have gone to rest.

Nothing but me and these little planets left.

When do you wake up when you are the sun?

When do you sleep?

Ive been pondering this as you orbit me.

Never close enough to really feel my heat.

But how lovely you are at this distance.

How lucky i am to shine bright and long enough to see

If you ask the comets,

You’re the most amazing thing in the sky

It takes just a fraction of a second for a star to

-halo

[saturnsenby]

Dandelions

I stopped wishing on dandelions when I was ten years old, That was when I realized that it wasn’t doing anything for me. I looked to the center of a flower and asked it to bring my brother home. I sat at my window for a week waiting, And when he didn’t come, I collected all of the dandelions I could find in my apartment complex and burned them in the street. It felt good to watch their betrayal go up in flames. I never asked why it didn’t work, I never even thought to question why I was asking a flower to raise the dead in the first place. It was just that my grandpa taught me to pluck dandelions and close my eyes as tight as I could, If I kept my wish a secret, and wanted it with all my heart, it was bound to come true. My grandpa cried when he found me burning dandelions in the street, Cried even harder when I asked him why he lied to me. I haven’t wished on a dandelion since I was ten, Saw white horses and called them blind faith instead of beautiful. I stopped finding everything beautiful until I met him. He has eyes like dandelions and a laugh like roses. He looked at me and turned away, I thought I was okay with it. I looked at him and saw blind faith and he makes my heart run like white horses and he Does not see me. I spend way too much time trying to convince myself that he is not breaking my heart because my best friend taught me never to show that to anyone but He is breaking my heart. And I am licking the shattered pieces from the ground and giving them back to him every time he kisses me. She is beautiful, Has skin like flower petals and a smile like wishing wells, He drops pennies in her and I don’t think he realizes that those kind of wishes don’t come true it, does not seem fair that only my wish would not come true. She is what he wishes for and she adores him. I remember when I promised myself never to hope again but hell, When I met him I almost wished on a dandelion, I counted lucky pennies, Sat on the edge of a wishing well and stared at a full moon like it was tempting me, I brushed my hair with a wishbone and I, guess a heart never learns when to stay broken. But my best friend taught me not to bend for anyone and I wouldn’t dare let him know that he has power over me, So I will say nothing, Would braid her hair like promises if it meant he would smile at me and would wish them luck if it meant his heart would warm for me, I would abandon my hatred for blind faith if he was the path I was following but I am only a stepping stone to him. My best friend taught me not to bend but my grandpa taught me not to give up so like a fool, I am walking in a garden. I have started collecting dandelions. I left my armor of matches at home and I am sitting in a rain of leaves, I hold my breath as not to wish on them until I am ready, I opened a pack of cigarettes before I left home and smoked my lucky before any of the others, When I’ve finished, I think I’ll try a dandelion.

[saturnsenby]

Grimalkin

I took a walk through my neighborhood tonight. I left at 10 PM I don’t imagine that I went far, But I wasn’t really paying attention. I only know that at one point I stopped dead in my tracks and went back in the opposite direction. I thought taking a walk would help me feel normal again. That singing at the top of my lungs until one in the morning would stop the burn in my chest. I stopped and talked to every cat I met. The first was black, long-haired, with white paws and a white belly. I sat beside him on a curb and analyzed the way his dark fur blended into the color of cocaine and back into the color of resin. We talked about the way the light from street lamps hit the sidewalk. We sat and watched the clouds fall over the sky. He told me not to focus too hard on the burning on my chest, To appreciate the pain of it but to not let it consume me, To keep walking until it didn’t hurt anymore, Until it was part of me. I kept walking until he was a speck of ash on the sidewalk. The second cat was grey, with dark stripes. I sat in the middle of a main street and she crawled into my lap. We talked about the glare of the headlights and the sound of the cars whipping past us, Some of them were so close that when her tail flicked out it could have touched them. She said that I have beauty in my heartbeat and I was a traitor to myself when I let some fool convince me it should be orchestrated for them, She said my heart did not divide into its’ millions of cells to be broken by a pair of hazel eyes. She said I had to make myself stronger than that. When I stood to walk away, she stayed in the middle of the street, Watching the cars pass her but never getting close enough to be hurt, She never strayed and she never knew what it was like to jump in front of a moving vehicle and survive. I walked faster in the light of the street lamps and slowed in the dark in hopes that something would jump out to catch me. The third cat was an orange tabby, She walked up to me and jumped to my shoulders. She lay around my neck and told me to keep walking or she would leave. She was not much of a talker, But she did admit to me that she liked the way I walked, She said there was a strength in my stride and that I moved like a ghost, That I could do some real damage with how quietly I walked. She asked me to carry her home but would not tell me where she lived, Only purred against the back of my neck until I had become useless to her, And she jumped down without a word. I turned back to find her walking back in the direction we had come from. I might have followed her, Might have trailed behind until she found her way home, but an ember in my lung reminded me that I was not done. The last cat was barely more than six weeks old. He was white like an untouched bowl of cream. We sat beneath a tree and he sang to me. Climbed up my arms and into my hair and back down again, He said that the scratches he left were there to be memories. He said that they might sting but he knew I would never regret them, He was right. He told me to ignore every cat that had come before him, He told me that what he had learned and they had forgotten was how to be naïve, And how to be trusting. He said they were wise but that they had lived for too long, Seen too much hurt, He said they forgot how to heal. He told me that the most important thing was to forgive, And to give chances the way you give love: Often, Always, And with reckless abandon. He said that it would hurt, But that I would never regret it. He told me he had to go back to his mother and when he left, The scratch in my thigh began bleeding. I did not wipe it away, even when I turned and walked back home, Even when my mother asked what happened, I only told her that it would wash away. I am laying in bed writing this now, And the burn in my chest has not receded, The hazel eyes have not yet faded from the back of my eyelids, So instead of keeping myself awake, And hating the embers in my lungs, I will dream of the way those eyes blink, The way the eyelashes are always tangled and I will be grateful that for some time, I was lucky enough to meet them with mine.

[saturnsenby]

Ecdysis

i shed wounded tissue that you gave me like layers, like a reptile's skin. each one takes more of the pain away but i still feel you. in places where scar tissue can't reach, where molting can't cleanse. i shed this hatred of you in slivers and lose pieces of myself with it but the funny thing about snakes: they shed when they are growing

[saturnsenby]

Supernova

They always tell you how it hurts to lose a lover, To be missing the person in your heart when they are lying beside you. They will go on and on about how your chest will cave in when your heart kisses you goodbye and how your knees will shatter when they hit reality, They never tell you that the most beautiful thing about how we love each other is variety. I did not need to kiss her for her breath to be my favorite lines of poetry, Affection is sometimes the nail in your coffin of amity. I loved her more than she ever loved me. I always knew it too. It was in the way I looked at her and she refused to look at me, How my heart ached with hers and how when I cried most of the time she wished I would just shut up. It was in the way I felt the lie on her lips every time she spoke the word forever. They never tell you that losing a lover isn’t jack shit compared to losing your best friend. She was so beautiful to me. From the moment she came to sit by my side, My heart beat in tandem with the way her fingers tapped against the steering wheel of her car, Against the top of her desk, Against the dopamine receptors in the deepest parts of my head. With eyes like mint ice cream and hair like silver rain, She was winter and I was a phoenix. She was a mean girl and I knew it. they always tell you that when you fall in love with someone, they will be perfect, but I have always felt the strongest pull towards venomous teeth in beautiful smiles. I have always bared my jugular to them for the thrill of not knowing whether or not they would bite me. I always knew they would eventually bite me. They always tell you it burns the back of your throat when your lover tells you you are nothing to them and from experience I know that is true, But when she told me she has despised me for over a year the acid in my throat decapitated me and all I said was “okay.” That was all my corroded vocal chords could manage. I would wash down every word she said with a lover’s rejection for the knowledge that that is still less painful than her telling me she couldn’t bear speaking to me anymore. She was always a symphony to me and her voice was still music to my ears when she told me I was no longer worth her time, Soundtrack to my heart and she broke the record in half because to her, It was easy. She compared me to a dying star, Said she didn’t want to be around when I finally implode, And all I could think was that I would dive into a black hole with no tether if she told me to but that I also understand where she is coming from. I saw this coming but convinced myself that like always, I was overreacting. She was cold to me beginning a week after we met but I gave my everything to her like she was still my friend. Maybe if I broke her down in return she would still care for me. I see her drunk in her room at half past three. Wonder if that beautiful mind is degrading under the pressure of hallucinogens and alcohol like she said was happening to me. I wonder if her pushing me away was her way of clearing the night sky before she finally implodes. I would guess that she has not been sober in weeks, And I wonder why the neck of a bottle is more inviting to her than my embrace. If oblivion is really more comforting than amity. They say that supernovae are often triggered by the gravitational collapse of a star’s core. Who knew the demise of something so bright could look just like poetry? If she wanted me to hold her hand while she collapses, I would sit beside her as the debris hit me, Sometimes at up to 30,000 kilometers per second, That’s 10% of light speed. If she collapsed on me, I would let the debris decimate me to dust so she wouldn’t have to do it alone. It is likely that she would ask me to be silent if I screamed. Eyes the color of mint ice cream and hair like silver rain, The blizzard inside of her left my phoenix heart frostbitten. But I love her. I love her.

[saturnsenby]

Cold Turkey

(Track Marks and Recovery) I am the half empty carton of cigarettes beneath the underwear in your nightstand when everyone believes you are eight months clean I am, temptation in white but I do not deserve the symbolism of that color. It is too clean, too sterile, and I am brand new track marks four years into recovery, I am the tears in your mother's eyes when she finds me. I am not some antiseptic wipe, I will contaminate and discolor you like iodine and the nicotine in my heartbeat will dizzy you like carousels and the tar in my kiss will blacken your lungs, but still you call this blind suffocation falling in love. but I am cancerous, and I call this withdrawal symptoms, and I cannot help but to hope that your mother finds me here again, at the bottom of your underwear drawer, because I am tired of carving away at you. because I am a cold shot of whiskey slowly dripping onto your sewn lips after six weeks of sobriety and I know, you must be dying to sing, I am the perfume of marijuana, laughter, and alcohol on my own breath that was designed specifically to intoxicate you and you are the poor souls who lie in confession I am your greatest sin with withdrawal symptoms and no amount of Hail Marys is going to save you. everyone knows what a horrible idea it is to quit cold turkey, but it is probably better that you quit while you're ahead. because I am red lipstick on a lover's neck and warm arms around your waist I am, steamy windows and fingers on your back tracing your name from my lips and, I am brand new pens on pristine paper and yellowing teeth with slowing heartbeats and you, keep trying to quit me cold turkey, but we are cartons of cigarettes in each-other's glove boxes and we are burning each-other alive cause the truth is I don't know who's point of view this poem is really from, so please, let me pretend for now that it is you while I cover my track marks, I do not want my mother to see them. I am only trying to keep my lips sealed so no more of you can leach into my bloodstream because these withdrawal symptoms, they are killing me, and I already itch for you too badly to perpetuate the effects. and as you can see, my lungs are returning to pink.

[saturnsenby]

Eden

you took root in me like an insidious disease and, blinded so thoroughly as I am by your radiance, I keep opting out of treatment because if living without you is considered healthy, I'm sure I'd rather die and, you took root in me like wild chrysanthemums and god, are you ever beautiful. and who cares if you're a little overgrown you are free. and I am glad the soil in my lungs was fertile enough to break your chains. you planted your heart in me like it was easy and I know it was not, but you are brave like letting go but I want you to know you don't have to, and I'm doing my best to smooth over the pain that being so impressionable has left on you 'cause, you grew young with me like a time machine and I swear, if I could go back to the day we met I would spend all of my years reliving your smile. and all I can hope for is that my weakening irises will stay strong enough to see you through whatever you need me for. you enveloped me like daydreams and you have mesmerized me into sleeping at half past noon but admittedly, I have never been an early bird. you grew next to me like the only neighbor who has never annoyed me and if that doesn't sound like much have faith, it is a true accomplishment. because unlike the sweet old lady down the street, I would give anything to knock on your door and stay awhile. you took root in me like a rose bush but your thorns have never bothered me you are very careful that you only ever prick yourself and you take the breath from me like poetry and leave me light like summer rain. and if this is what flooding is like, consider me ready to drown you take glances at me like they need to be secrets and hold my hand like at any millisecond I may evaporate but I promise you, I am not going anywhere, I'm much too comfortable taking my roots between you and white lilies so don't be afraid to grow into me, you look beautiful when you bloom.

[saturnsenby]

abandoned house

I feel hollow like a song if you blew in my my face it would whistle through me like wind chimes more like banshee cries I feel hollow like a mind where memory of you pulses and ricochets and pulses and ricochets and repeats and repeats and repeats and makes me want mental bullets to leave marks but you are only what is psychologically wrong with me you are only wind chimes to my siren song I feel hollow like a photograph because nothing captures the beauty in an abandoned house quite like living there I am an abandoned house occupied by myself and tenancy is an argument between the windowsills who wish to carry on in their silence and the doormat that is tired of being alone know, i would let you walk over me if you promised to stay awhile but I am scared to let you grow flowers on the crystal bannister of a staircase I had forgotten long ago I feel empty like a hello and heavy like a feather without the rest of the bird, Gravity still applies to me and you, pretty dove, you did not even notice when I went missing I feel empty like a hello in that I do not remember the last time I could speak one without choking on my tongue but I can still weave fisherman's knots out of words and breathe poetry. I am hollow like a rib cage or maybe just my own because though I speak in the first person to "you" I am shouting down an empty lung. it is strange, to live inside yourself where though it would be comforting, you will never open the windows to let in visitors and banshee screams and siren songs are all that put you to sleep I am hollow like my heartbeat that it pounds behind my ears but it never feels real to me I am tired of feeling like a burned temple and hearing that my body is the house I grew up in, I should treat it with love I should treat myself with love not because it is my home but because I am a human being incapable of being personified in a photograph or healing scars my love should not need to be masked by inanimate objects but I am still hollow and the teenagers who enjoy playing in my empty halls- I mean arteries, are soaking me with gasoline, and though it would be pretty, my doctor says I am not allowed to go up in flames, so I guess I should be listening. but I am hollow like a song. she blows admittedly good advice into me begging, my mother pleading, my father staring my little sister unknowing my teacher shaking me wanting me to start understanding but all it does is whistle through me like banshee cries I feel hollow like my mind where memory of myself pulses and ricochets pulses and ricochets repeats and repeats and repeats I am starting to feel like a broken record with deja vu but nothing here is familiar to me the crystal staircase that once reached towering heights is nothing more than shattered glass, but my therapist would be happy to know that I am rebuilding, and that I've confiscated the matches of the teenagers pulling at my heartstrings so they know that though I am bathed in gasoline, they do not hold the power to ignite me. I feel hollow like my home but if you are curious... I'll leave the window open, you should drop by sometimes. I enjoy the company.

[saturnsenby]

Love notes and goodbyes

To my ex boyfriend,

The first time you told me you loved me, I did not say it back. We had been together a few months and your heart worked almost as quickly as your words You told me that that was just fine and you didn't want to rush me, But still you glanced away and caught your breath before you could smile at me again The first time you told me you loved me, You did not yet know the middle name of my oldest brother, To be completely honest, You probably still don't and you did not ease me in, and when one month later, I finally told you I reciprocated your feelings it was only after I had spent two hours crying for you. You taught me to make pain the equivalent of my own beauty and it hurt so bad when you told me of past lovers I knew

I thought,

that a heart only breaks when love is bursting its seams and maybe I was right in some way because its hard to have panic attacks for someone you do not care for but that

Doesn't mean I was ever in love with you

And now,

So many months and make out sessions later let's be truthful with eachother all we ever were and all they ever could be were

Mistakes

I understand

That I was never anything more than a late night whispered I love you and I can count the number of times you said it loud enough for three people to hear on one hand I was nothing but your bitch, and now I wonder often how you manage to dehumanize and break hearts before noon because, you may not know this,

But I am not a fucking animal

I am a human being. so consider this a closed chapter in my life and I will be proud if your name never decorates the lines of my poetry and my ribs again.

Sincerely,

Do not call me your friend

To this new boy,

I am sorry that he tore my heart from her pedestal in my chest and she is not strong enough yet to be caressed by you I have spent countless nights braiding the veins of her into pretty knots and woven them into my chest in a pathetic attempt to put her where anatomy classes claim she should be but between you and i

I keep her prisoner in her own chambers but she holds the key and I have not been able to convince her to let herself out to you, new boy with soft eyes and a beautiful smile, do you think that if I tattoo the scripture that is her favorite song on my forehead, you will sing it to her as a lullaby while we trick her into submission.

The first time you said you loved me, you said you meant it as more like friends, and I could not even return to you that

You said that's fine, and I could not see your face from the other end of the line to know if you were actually upset but I know that when you confessed to me, my mama and my best friend asked me why my cheeks wore white like a wedding dress, or a ghost,

Will it be okay if a month from now I have still not reciprocated your feelings? or will your conscience remind you that you are wasting your time on my bruised ego and broken heart

Will you be patient while I pick up the pieces?

Will you even bring yourself down to your knees to help me?

To this new boy,

I was sure as hell that big cities held nothing for me but headaches and traffic jams

Until I met you and you can hold me to it when I tell you I'd love to get caught at a red light with you, If only to count how many times your heart beats before it is green again

I want to know if my smile can pick up the speed.

And if you're okay with me holding your hand. Maybe that's a little too serious though because after all, we are more like friends.

So I wanna know if me singing you a lullaby will make your heartbeat slow and

Are you okay with just getting to know me?

Because I cannot promise you a whirlwind romance but I can swear to you that even if it take me years to say I love you like a traffic jam It's not because I haven't tried.

I am just working my way through the syllables and relearning my first language so that when I get it out, I know the definition.

Sincerely,

I Am Glad I Can Call You My Friend

[saturnsenby]

a forecast for grey skies

there are no hidden figures in the clouds above the park nearby my house but maybe i just can't see them

in my eyes all there are are hummingbirds and blue outlines and airplanes and goodbyes but i don't see any figurines in the weather forecast and i

am starting to feel like rain

there are no umbrellas in this storm and i forgot to buy boots to fit me this year but maybe i'm only imagining the sensations of raindrop kissed skin because tears often leave the same impression and they have found their homes ripping pathways down my face so often my skin has learned the definition of erosion and my cheekbones have been riverbeds for long enough one might mistake them for canyons

[saturnsenby]

Confessions (10-?)

I guess you could say that I am technically breathing… But the sulfuric acid that is loving you and missing your smile, Knowing that I am nothing close to special… This is not oxygen. This is not respiration but sweet suffocation because confronting the cold half of my bed and knowing you get to pick who keeps you warm is the kindling of the physical pain in my spine when I see your name on someone else’s lips. I guess, I am technically breathing but my bones are also the sticks I’ve thrown to my own funeral pyre. The marrow in my cheekbones leaks like a fire hose but Instead of water… I house gasoline. I am burning, And this is not breathing if the smoke of needing you and knowing you do not need me Need you to know I am trying not to need you but you, You are where whoever sabotaged the marrow of my cheekbones hid the water. If I am burning alive on a bonfire made of false hopes I let grind my bones to dust you are the absence of air I need. Sweet suffocation, I will not ask you to put out the flames you caused in the first place But I will ask you… I will ask you to put the water back into my cheekbones. So I can fix them myself.

[saturnsenby]

Metaphors vs. Knives (confessions 9-?)

When my father found out that instead of leaving my ex's clothes folded nicely somewhere to pick them up, I ripped them to shreds, He told me that that was probably a bit rude and, I could handle it better Yes. Fuck I could have wrapped it in bows and given it to him with a smile on my face but dad, Don't you remember how he killed your baby girl? How my little brother caught me sobbing in my closet holding a bleeding heart to my throat Don't you remember how I would not look anyone in the eyes for six days because he made me feel so worthless I still don't believe I am good enough to meet my family's gazes Dad, Don't you remember he tore me limb from limb in a matter of nine words Dad, I think that if he is allowed to shatter something that you cannot ever completely fix I should be allowed to rip a $5 t shirt to shreds, And for good measure, I think that I'll burn them.

[saturnsenby]

In Which Love Notes May Double as Prayers -As Told by an Agnostic Teenager

When I think of you and smile, That expression, I have always felt, Is backed by the warmth you leave on my soul when you touch me, You are the light in me. When I am lonely, You are my imaginary friend. When I am walking along on dark days, You are there to hold my hand, Even if I can’t see you. When I am scared, You are the arms around me, Comforting me. On days with no sunshine, You are the moon and the stars, And on rainy days, You are sun rays spearing dark clouds to remind me, You are always there when I need you.

When I am on the verge of death by dehydration, You are one dewdrop on a spiderweb. You are that which saves me. Thank you for being the strength in me when I have none. You are the beautiful hammock on a foreign beach I collapse into when vacations to sunset from a different geographical position are all that keep me going. You are that vacation. And you are the warmth of my bed when temperatures are below freezing. You are the cradle or lullaby that sends me to sleep. You are the dreams in which I fly. I love you. Goodnight. Thank you. Amen.