i can stay up for 700 hours
i can stand still in the corner of a dark room
where from the ceiling some sick soupy brown sewage is dripping
like wilted minute hands at the bottom of the grandfather clock
in your attic
i can lie under the sun at 1 pm in july and wait until my eyes
are baked to carmelization
and my mouth is a gaping crusted yolk and there is nothing behind
my skin i can wait until i’m a leaf curling in the wind
orange with resignation
and i will still not feel nearly as fucked as you.
you should have warned me in the yard where sunburnt and beautiful
we chased each other in circles like dogs after their tails
as if we would always have a chance to catch each other
you should have warned me all the nights i sat in my bedroom
listening to your tin can heart vibrate down white yarn phone cords
all the way from your window to my window
30 feet away
you should have warned me when at 8 o’ clock every summer night
the sunset kept getting in the way of my view of you.
all the winters of my childhood spent jogging around the neighborhood
waiting for you to look out the window at how quick you moved me
i wanted to race you and stay within fifty feet
of your t-shirt flapping like flags and i wasn’t so far behind was i
i can hear you in your parent’s bathroom clutching
your flaking elbows close to your chest
i can hear you begging your mind for a moment’s rest
and i am trying to be sorry
i have nothing to do with the reason you wish you were dead
and nothing i ever did made you wish you were alive
maybe that’s the burn at 3 am when i think of your eyes
lolling back and snapping open 15 times a minute
you always liked dangling your foot over
we all mistook it for bravery but all this time it was apathy
the void is nothing if inside you know you are so much more vast
i can hear your mother denying there is anything wrong
i can hear the syringe slipping in
but you can’t hear me and do you remember
the day we went to the mall
for my little sister’s birthday party and you bought
a bowl and an ashtray and i bought a book and it was requiem for a dream
and you asked what it was about and i couldnt tell you
i bought it because incase you died soon i needed to have something
so a book about a kindhearted junkie was as close to a eulogy
as you or i would ever come
i still see the smoke curling in your lungs in
the grayest parts of night
i still see the bathroom light on in the upstairs window
i see you sitting on the edge of the bathtub
i see your eyes reducing to pins
i see you ruining me
you should have warned me when i was cutting myself open
on the sharp edge of your laugh
i remember what it sounds like isn’t that awful
i see you lying indifferent and beautiful in your coffin
i see me 23 at your funeral
i see your mother and she is not smiling
she is not crying
she is denying everything and the apathy the apathy
please tell me you never loved me
so all of this can make sense.
This poem is really fantastic, followers, if you want a new writer to follow… her poems are absolutely brilliant!
I watched the sadness pool into your eyes
today like it was a faucet hooked straight up to the ocean,
I watched you not eat a thing on your plate at lunch,
and you still threw it away like you already ate enough
of your pain to keep you full for weeks,
I watched your smile falter and fade and I had to question
if I even saw it to begin with.
I can’t swim in your own mind and rescue your drowning
self, I’m not a qualified lifeguard and you don’t let anyone in anyways.
I can see the dams breaking in your mind,
and I can see the pain swarming like bees to honey.
But take my hand,
I’ll hold it out for as long as possible,
all you have to do is grab it.
You say it hurts to breathe,
that your lungs flinch in pain like the oxygen is the one
thing you didn’t need in this life,
but I can’t make you breathe.
I can only help you,
I can’t live for you.
I’m writing to you,
yes you with the eyes shining to the world
that still refuses to be good to you even though
the best is what you deserve,
you, with beauty on the tip of your tongue
like the word’s afraid to come out truthfully,
you, with the world on your shoulders and you feel
like your spine isn’t strong enough for this,
this world was spinning before you and
it will after you for who knows how long,
don’t add worry lines to your perfect face
because time keeps on ticking even if we stop.
It’s okay to take a breather,
the best runners have to stop eventually,
they don’t become the best by being born that way,
they become the best because
the knew when to stop and when to go
and when they’ve had enough and when they haven’t.
You have time to grow,
you won’t always be stuck clueless,
this is your life.
So live it.
You told me you were like fire,
quick to burn anything that touches you
and completely unforgiving even to the
I love to play with fire,
I love the way the flames dance with my fingers
and engulf its heat in anything it can grab,
You warned me
and I still have the burns on my wrist,
just a simple reminder not to play
in the flames when you’re a candle.
You branded my mind with your
lips and expected me to be just fine when
you walked away,
but I was left with scars
that I get to graze my fingers over subconsciously
whenever someone mentions you.
You are the phantom limb I still reach for,
the person I’m still trying to be with,
the scars I don’t want quite healed because
it would mean forgetting you.
I believe in love. It’s permanence I’m not so certain of.