MouthfulsYou take mouthfuls of meHuge, selfish as they areLeaving morsels of me behindTeeth my words and chew up my heartBite through my spine with shark like jawsI am used, you explain, damaged,Dirty.Dirty for existing.Dirty for loving you.I ask you why you like to hurt me."I love you most when you ache on the inside."I have never hated myself more.
My Name is Hollow.Hello.My name is Hollow.I live inside your soul.Under the layers and layers of skin,and tissue and muscle...all the way down where nothingand everything survives.(I wish I knew before I trusted youThat lying is second nature to onewith as many regrets as you.)My name is Hollow.I live inside you now,because you gave me the powerin all your virtuous beliefthat the world was goodto survive your strength...(I hoped to God you wouldn'tlie or steal or break what is alreadya thousand pieces of a broken soul.)My name is Hollow.You let me in when sexbegan to feel like an ache.But the pain felt better thandealing with the hurtinside your head, your heart...(This was always a world for thosethat were harder than meStrength is sometimes a very relative thing.)My name is Hollow.I am the jagged lines you drawall along your skin,your muscles, your bones...The sharp edge of a knife,the scarlet drops of remorse.(Here's a question now for your
Sea of Liesi.My father never read me the story of Icarus. I found it for myself. I suppose he did not want me to know what it was like to almost touch the stars. But it was only after I had read the story did I even try to reach so far. It is a little like falling in love...and then drowning in the sea.(I would be lying if I said the fall didn't break everything I had once believed was solid.)ii.My science teacher knew well that I was a dreamer. When I told her I believed fairytales were as real as love is, I could see the disapproval and disappointment in her eyes. I suppose thats why in her classroom, when I was asked what the greatest force in the universe was, I answered love. I suppose thats why she laughed and reminded me that love was as much a fairytale as the fairytales I believed in.(She was wrong. Love exists...its just been broken into a million little pieces, set afloat in a sea of heartbreak.)iii.My mother didn't want to speak about t
A Little Bit of WonderlandHer name was Alyssa, and when she was nine, her mother built her Wonderland. After being raised on a healthy diet of Charles Dickens, Enid Blyton and J.M. Barrie, it seemed like the natural course of action. She created it out of paper, each scene indispensably, indisputably perfect in its imperfection.And she did it because Alyssa was terrified of the idea of falling through a rabbit hole, into a place that allows magic only when you are confused. Mothers do the most impractical, exhausting things to show how much they love their children. It seemed a pity that it was this very effort that kept Alyssa up all night, staring at the paper people like they were coming to get her.(If Alyssa’s mother knew, she would have spent all her time trying to explain to the little girl that it wasn’t just paper people she should be afraid of.)-God appeared to have a sense of humour when little Alice became Alyssa’s best friend. She lives across the street, her hair always
infinite/opposite.being an adult means knowingthat there are things much scarierthan spiders, or snakes, or clowns.the ocean, for one.losing your parents.empty tequila bottles.unanswered questions.waking up, still reachingfor someone who left youa long time ago.--i live like there’s an end for mebecause there is.look,plants will wilt.forests will burn down.eventually, even the stars will burn out.people will come to us.they will touch us. they will hurt us.they may keep us. they may not.but i never hold on too tightbecause when it’s time, my time,i’ll only be letting go.--the heart has valvesthat constantly open and closegiving love, taking love.and my best adviceis to be selfish.know when you’ve had enough.know when you deserve better.close the valves andkeep some love for yourself.know that you are perfecteven if you eat that second cheeseburgerbecause there’s magic in this world.we’re proof of it.--apeirophobiais fear o
Confessions Of A Jeff The Killer Fangirl Part 4"You're what?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.Jeff sighed. "I'm in love with you..."Jeff The Killer... was in love with me?I gulped and my cheeks grew hot. "Why?"Jeff mumbled something under his breath and looked to the floor."Huh?"He didn't speak at first, but then he placed a hand on the side of my head gently."I said... You don't remember me?"At that moment I slipped into a world I had tried so hard to let go of.~Flashback~I was young, probably only twelve years old.And I was walking with an old friend."Haha! Quit it Jeffy! Don't tug on my hair!" I squeaked, trying to release a section of my hair from his grasp."But I always wondered why it smells so nice all the time." He inquired, sniffing it."Shampoo? Duh. Besides Your hair is pretty cool too." I added, taking hold of one of his honey brown locks and tugging on it playfully.His blue eyes suddenly grew sad. "It's a shame though.""Hm?""That I'm moving so far away... I might not ever see you again." He frowned, rele
The Rules of FlyingThe Rules of Flying:No#1: Don’t Fly Too High:If you allow yourself to achieve a great height, there will only be enough air left for you to fall. Stay at a constant pace, don’t allow your head to float above the clouds.Another juxtaposing comment upon rule 1 of flying, do not fly too close to the ground, to let creatures pull you down.No#2: Avoid Trees:While flying to your destination, many obstacles may get in your way, clipping a few branches may be fine for you depending on your strength. But always avoid the trunks of these obstacles, they will end your flight abruptly and you may not reach your destination in one piece.This also applies to aeroplanes and other birds.No#3: Don’t Flap Your Wings Too Much:Although flapping your wings is necessary to achieve the height you require to succeed and complete your flight. Flapping unnecessarily only leaves you too tired to complete your journey.Remember to flap your wings only when needed. Do not let another bird
Dear Poetry,You will find out that I am not a strong person. Dragons do not make a home beneath my skin to hoard their treasured princesses. I am not that lucky. For I have misplaced collarbones just as quickly as I’ve misplaced hearts, a pulse still rhythmic against my fingertips. I am a monster of words, devouring Cummings and Plath with no ounce of self control left in my body. I promised myself this weight would not fall for the sharp edges of stars ground into your knuckles. But, write air into my lungs, poetry. Give this wild thing a reason to learn the definition of tamed.Write me a poem, and I will promise to fall in love with you, slowly and then…all at once.
They look like fire made solid.