Grounded planesAs I stand here, feeling the weight of my hair increase and slump on my shoulders with water leaking down the curve of my back, I think of you, kneeling in the bedroom, forehead on the dirty carpet of lies, betrayal and doubt. Power lines and coral reefs separate us, a torturous wait for something that we hope alleviates us.
As I put on the headphones and make my choice against the voices of the world, I remember your crying, your painful sobs of apologies and promises I still believe you will one day fulfill. I clutch at my chest and wish that I could take a heartbeat and send it your way. Maybe you'll hear me...maybe I'll feel you. Ripped envelopes, healing scars and passionate thoughts connect us, a desire we will one day share.
Tonight I dance with streetlights in fine rain and I smile. Tonight, you stare out at misty roads and mountains with glass alone keeping you locked in.
Tomorrow I sing to ink cartridges and faded paper. You'll hold pillows and shuddered breaths that feel l
Divorce lawyers are yoursI am getting used to lying on rooftops that look like ripples, counting tears from clouds that hide behind a night mask of their own. I used to count them, remember every drop between my fingers but now they splatter like alcohol, drowsy medication and lies. I slide pieces of love notes and unsent letters under the plastic on the dining table, hoping one day you'll sit there and notice it under your routine glass of Jack Daniels.
Every morning I wake up to dirty teacups and half eaten pancakes, empty hammocks and closed doors. When will you be home again? When will you actually look at me rather than the stain my shadow makes on your bathroom door. And think of the fact that we can't even stand back to bare back anymore. Think of how our fingers can't stay intertwined for more than a few seconds. And then ask yourself why I beg for the same things every minute you aren't engrossed in the next lie you'll spit on my face.
I'm accustomed to sitting on dirt and weeds, kissing stigmas and b
Empty flower potsIt's like we're tossing rocks to count ripples, plucking petals to collect pollen and burning paper hearts to make starry flames. It's like I'm provoking your anger just to hear your voice in frustration, covering my lips so you don't hear the way I seem to liquidize even in the cold. It's a lot like love, darling, but we're fools, we're far fetched and we're ridiculous and I never wanna hear you say you love me.
Because you don't know, and I don't know and no one knows!! No one knows that you spend days looking at my picture, playing with your hair, tangling your fingers until there are knots and you laugh at the way you pull,pull,pull and can't get me out of your head.
No one knows that I stand in the rain, laughing, collecting droplets on my tongue, whispering your name and watching it write itself on my window. No one knows that sometimes I say "I'm beautiful" and they'll never hear "because of you". Everything goes from complex to simple, hot to cool, chaotic to clear b
A letter for a stareDear guy at table 3,
We ordered the same latte chillers two days ago, yesterday and today as I'm writing this. I can't stop looking at you, with your purple headphones peeking out from your pin straight, bronze hair. Your stares intrigue me because I wonder, are you challenging me? Bad choice because evidently, I will stare back even after you look away. I like the way you scribble your words across the napkins you sneak under your cup from the baskets and stick them into your pocket before anyone [but me] sees.
I wonder, do you keep them? What are you writing that's so different? 'Walk with paper maybe next time' they'd say but I think its interesting.
I'm still looking at you by the way. You're probably thinking I'm a weird girl who thinks you're cute or something. Truth be told, your eyes are pulling me in. For the past two days they looked different. I find myself smiling when you're singing along to your music and thinking no one can hear you.
Well, this napkin is getting full so
I'm just yoursI have a page full of "I love you's"
and empty jewelry boxes
made of broken sea shells
and glued- together verses
from Gibran poetry.
I only hope every night
that one day it would be enough
to prove to you that inside,
and the surface is vulnerable.
I have heartbeats on cassettes
and dreams in glass jars,
because I like to listen to the days
I think of you.
You make me visualize sunlit tea
and wheat fields that match your hair.
You give me stomach churning,
And I am just a girl,
lying on the wrong side of the bed,
counting imaginary stars,
kissing warm winds and
collecting piano keys.
I'm just the girl who blows words
to you on Pacific winds,
who wakes up in the middle of the night
just to call your name
And who has found a simple glimmer
in the fog of life.
CarefreeThey think I'm angry,
and I'm made up of sharpened
words and a blade tongue
before they could touch me
and see that they just go right
Because I'm transparent.
I like knowing that you see
-nothing- when you look into my eyes;
just endless whirls
and passing bullets
with echoing voices
from inside my lungs.
And you never really cared to fight
and pursue my thoughts.
You just stood there with your arms out
as though I'd reach down my throat
and hand you -anything- shiny
and worth -something-.
But I exhale dreams for breakfast
and swallow lies for dinner
and you're always smiling;
because you know I'm worse
andardrattur vinduriYou're the kind of person the world calls a diamond. Unique, precious, hard to find. But to me I only see you as multifaceted, hard and hidden. And you know exactly how to play me until I'm begging for you as though my heart will crumble in my palms if you don't touch me or whisper bitter somethings in my ear. And sometimes I want to say I hate you, but you found my weaknesses and you know just how to use them. One day, I'll get stronger. One day you'll be begging me instead.
once in november i flew into the black earth where you came from and back. i wasn't back til december and when i was i could still feel the shadow touch of the deep crypts where you grew on the back of my hand. with your diamondskin you pierced me, but when i looked for where you entered there were no markings. it was like you were never there. i didn't know how to feel but i swear it was like crystal and diamonds and cold. i knew you would never be my ghost, silently trailing behind me and begging. you wer
Wait for hurtEverything feels grey,
with a golden tint,
the first two months maybe.
I hate looking back,
wondering if mistakes
were written on our mirrors
while we ignored them
to think of plane tickets and sex.
It's hard to imagine
not being yours,
you not belonging to me
because I'd never truly
be any one else's
and that's not fair.
And when I'm lying
on the cold floor
and you're singing
"put me in your warm arms"
I wonder if you're talking about me
It's starting to hurt darling,
and you're not trying enough
to make up your mind
whether you're holding on
or letting me let go.
It's starting to hurt, darling...
Complete your sentencesThere's a need to inhale.
My tongue likes to explore the words
I glue to the roof of my mouth
while you're droning on and on
about sex and nature
and I'm lying back, twirling my hair
watching as the cotton falls onto my shoulders
postponing the moment I say
"I have something to say".
And I take every memory I thought
I had buried deep enough
and I glue it together in the long silences
just to wake in the morning
and cry about your lies
and the fading trust I can't admit.
Because I'm obsessive
when I'm afraid of getting hurt
and I like to know what will scar me
I'm nervous and trembling,
and maybe it's the coffee
or maybe it's the little things
that you say don't matter and you throw away.
There's a need to inhale.
Because I'm forgetting how to speak
and how to feel
when I'm being weighed by the mass
of doubts you've told me to ignore.
There's a need to exhale.
Because I've been holding my breath
for the answers.
[i won't get]
ProcrastinationIt's the hurt in your voice
that makes me catch my breath
just to stay for another minute
and listen to the sobs
that I provoked.
It's the stifling inhalations
that make my stomach churn
all the harsh words I've been boiling
to spit out, fiery and edged
into your bleeding palms.
It's the word "please"
that brings me to my knees
and reach out my arms to you;
invisible and vacant;
just my cold breath.
And it's the word "sorry"
that makes you lie back,
the weights on your emptied stomach
and holds back your heart
from bursting through your rib cages
and pulsating violently
on my non existent grasp.
And you sleep,
while I try re attaching my arteries
and working on the words
I'll probably be able to say
one day. [if you ever let me]
endothermic reactionsI remember lying in bed with you on a cold day in July
feeling your evil smile burn into the back of my head
as you snuck your frozen toes under the edge of my shirt;
you loved the way I squirmed,
I loved the way you smiled.
Your scent seemed to blend with mine;
a terrible mix of singed hair and icicle words
but I'd kiss you just to feel like I was human.
And the conflict of your silken voice and half-hearted manipulations
weakened me to my already hollowed core.
With the absence of a song in my head
and marrow in my bones
there was nothing left to stop the reverberating of a single thought
Do I love this girl?
and then the echo hit my heart.
A slow bass line throbbed as it started up.
For the first time in a while I could answer a question on my own
and I swear
if you could read the sheet music I wrote it on
you would cry.
But tears aren't strangers to you and I
when most days are spent grabbing handfuls
of reflections and soft utterances
and hammering them into our ch
Wishes vs empty wordsYou say I'm something extraordinary,
and you like putting a magnifying glass
to my eyes, searching deep
for something I wish you'd realize
You won't ever find.
You put me up on a plinth,
asking me to recite written pieces
of a hushed heart,
and I open my mouth
to lie for you.
You press your hands onto my heart,
and drag bloody ink across undeserving paper.
A written melody flows from your soul
that brightens up the world,
Yet you stand in third place
in a race you won.
Modesty is beautiful
but you are amazing.
And I'm folding down the pages of my mind
that you say interest you,
Because maybe one day I'll go back
and remind you
when you're about to bag me up
and toss me out [again]
that I used to have words
worth listening to.
I wonder sometimes
if I press hard enough against my reflection,
if I'd fall into a world
where we were different.
Where you didn't question reality,
Where I could uphold all my promises.
'Till then I will press
But you should know
My promises to yo
HungrierThe trees are turning by and by; we can no longer claim
We are participants in this aging process,
So stop bleaching your face, please.
Let it flush and flake out your window.
Holding hands becomes pretentious.
We are the next generation,
Hurling our arms out of car windows,
Unfurling virgin wings as we pass everything on the interstate.
You've got me eating my cheeks
Filling cavities with blood because
I'm afraid I've forgotten how it feels to swallow.
You've got me rubbing your neck,
Just so when I curl to sleep in the backseat,
The residual smell of your tender flesh will let me
We drive until the trees are naked,
Til we come to terms.
[There is nothing left for us.]
The trees will turn again,
With the wheels,
With our wheels.
I'll finally swallow my blood.
You'll smile at the next girl who makes eye contact.
When my mother told me these beautiful dandelions
were nothing but weeds, I knew I was destined to
disappoint her, for I am the devil in her bed of roses.
The day she called me selfish was the same day I
learned to laugh, because I do more to make her
happy than she'll ever choose to realize.
After that teacher called and her idea of a perfect
son shattered, I reassured her that I would never
be appreciated for the beautiful person I'm not.
She dreams of seeing grandchildren I hope not to
have, but I pray she'll be gone long before I can
give her a reason to love me.
A Title About HeavenThe Other took The Speaker's hand.
"Why are you holding my hand...?" the question was blown softly into the night.
"Because it proves that you are real," murmured The Other, "And I haven't held your hand in such a long time."
"Perhaps I'm not real," smiled Speaker, "Maybe I'm just in your mind, your dreams."
"You are real," came the solid reply, "Because I love you and as long as I love you, you'll always be real."
"You've never held my hand before, not properly," muttered The Speaker.
"Because I've never come so close to losing you," said The Other, "Those days before you left I was worried that you were imaginary. That you were too good to be true. When you came back I realised that you were real. And now I'm not scared to hold your hand anymore."
"What if one day I don't come back....?" asked The Speaker.
"Then I'll be glad that for one day, one moment, I touched your hand and kissed your lips. I'll be glad that you were real."
IllusionsI witness the rain coming down
But it doesn't caress my face
I no longer feel your arms
As I'm wrapped in your embrace
I know the path is ahead of me
My feet don't touch the ground
I can't dance to the music
Because I don't hear any sound
I want to take flight without wings
Hear you call but it's not my name
I want to play this thing called life
But I don't understand the game
I know the sun is rising in the sky
My world is becoming black
I know you are trying to help
I merely experience you attack
I perceive the follower's gaze
But no one's watching me
I assume the abandoned kiss
Yet you hold me fearfully
All of my productive thoughts ricochet
I feel pain like the end in near
Why do I aquire these illusions,
When I have nothing to fear?
24You've left pencil marks on my skin and vanilla seeds in my hair and waking up today, I felt light and raw. Your laughter has been condensing along my visible veins and my feet feel wet and cold. The kitchen smells like black coffee and burnt brownies but I've been leaning against the granite and counting the days that dissolve away from the calendar. My skin has never felt this soft and my voice has never been this unused.
I thought I'd call you tonight but I kept dialing my own number and laughing at my idiocy. It's now 6 a.m and I've been waiting for 3 hours for the sunlight because I can't sleep; not in that bed without you, not in that bed with the pillows reeking of your words and the last echoes of your bones against mine. I've got these terrible circles around my eyes but they make the brown brighter and I keep laughing but it's starting to blister my throat.
The rains have started and there's a flood between my bathroom and my closet but my friends suspect that I've left t
Advanced ApologiesI'll give you motives and plane tickets
with my petals folded between your travel diary
and my liquid words dragging their heavy bodies
down the length of your sideburns.
I'll teach you how to clutch at your chest
and press your tongue to the roof of your mouth
just to stop this headache with my name resounding
all over it.
I'll show you how quickly a scar can fade
and I'll provide you with scabs to pick at
and elastic bands to sting your wrists with
so you'd stop thinking of me
stop breathing for me
stop loving me
And I'll teach you how easy it is to forget
and how simple it is to leave
with enough reminders of your mistakes.
EffigyI guess you'll never know quite why my vision fogs
When you leave me in the mist of your prescence;
Reaching for your fairytale-fingertips
And make believe morning kisses because, not like,
because they're the only bit of warmth I get after my sweaters left me.
You'll never know why I stare at your pictures
So much so that my mind has been chisled into an effigy of you;
Each curve melding gently into the next
Until your shilouette acquires the likeness of a well
Filled with quarters to the point that there's no room to wish
And the water runs through rusted pipes
Out leaky faucets located near the corners of my eyes.
But... if it's one thing I do right for the rest of my life...
I'll make damned sure that you know I love you.
Bitten Fingernails + InsomniaMy name's Carissa Mattox, and I am bitten fingernails and sleepless nights; a bad habit no one wants to keep.
I take after my father too much for anyone's good, and I'm a dreamer cursed with a rationalist's mind. I'm a people person who doesn't like people and an oxymoron wrapped inside pretty metaphors. I have too much empathy but pretend to have too little, and I'm guarded too heavily, but I'd kill to have anyone see past my façade, if only for a minute.
I say I don't believe in love, but only because it's what I want more than anything. I'm a sickness with no cure and a heart without a beat. I want someone to understand me, but I'd never wish that curse upon anyone. I hate not knowing things, and I wish I knew everything. I'm afraid of being jaded, and I hate my handwriting but I refuse to even attempt to change it because I think, "If I change this, what's next?"
I love music but I bend the lyrics o fit my life better. I know I have good qualities, but I just can't seem
tell me a lie and i'll still love you.fingertips lace around ribs
and dance along fragile arms
enough to be felt but not to break.
every touch is a gentle lie that says i love you.
sinking through layers of skin, muscle
and striking the bone with a cold pleasure
that clasps around your heart.
heart beats ebb, along with movement and time.
breaking away isn't an option,
maybe it never was... maybe it never will be.
take control of trembling hands,
hold them tight and hold them still.
send those tremors internally bound,
and turn them into butterflies.
then fight against the abdominal pull.
fight against flying away.
and falling apart.
we don't sound like a whisper.The sun never sets over the water, but you still take me there whenever dusk comes to meet the horizon. We sit out on the rocks with me tucked tight against your chest, while you count stars like other people count blessings, but we're only half lucky with all these city lights ruining your chances. I know you're tired, love, but I'm terrified. I'm running out of ways to stop myself from telling you I miss you because twenty four hours isn't a long time to be separated and I'm really just more afraid of what you're doing when I'm not there -- and of what you're thinking when I am. I've been burnt enough times before to learn that loving with only half your heart will save you from the fire, but I know that's not what I'm doing here. I don't want you to be a mistake worth making. I want this to be real this time.
I keep playing out all the ways you could hurt me in my head, not because I think you will, but because it'll sting less if it actually happens. I've learned to prepare myself
unknown.Lightning passes through my fingertips down your spine. We breathe it all in and exhale smiles because it's what we're good at. We'll hide in the golden sky of sunset and run [where the day meets the night]. You make me shake, you make me calm, you make my heart smile. You make me break habits and form new ones [but I like that]. There's a cold patch of skin in the center of my palm-hold it against you and set me on fire; make me move, send the summer [kill the icebergs]. Little by little, you're bringing me back up in the clouds, suspended above the trees. You're the only one who makes me burst into [happy] tears [p.s. it's new and I like you]. Will me to drive faster-the green lights will freeze and we'll never stop moving [push me, pull me, kiss me]. Grapevine fires eat up the trees along the road's sides [the path is twisting through the dunes-quick, or we'll burn]. Rip out the pages, drive too fast, run too far, laugh too much [miss you too much]. I don't care if they hate me-it's
Ambivalenceit seems that I have lost
dripping corduroy blue:
a glass of condescension
and I'll deny everything you've
somewhere between the pastry paint
and the religious
beads of sweat
from your lips to your navel
I've trapped myself
in a cage I lost the keys to.
this is where insanity begins:
too much attention
wasted on the wallpaper
and hours spent meeting anything
but your eyes.
as i'm cradled in the circulation
within alcoholic corks
and blue headlights
your voice tapping at my senses,
your lips replacing mine.
the secret is that I cannot do enough screaming
to drown you out
and I can't be quiet enough
to let you walk away.
22 aprili was told that when she woke up, we were thisclose to each other and our faces nearly touched.
did i ever tell you how i don't mean to push my spine to the surface and you away from me, when it's time to sleep, how i only do it because if i don't, i'll find myself falling into the way your hands move and how little you are as you sink into sheets and how wide your eyes become, green and bright like a forest, and i have to turn so that when i close my eyes, i know your lips aren't about to find mine?
i wish i didn't feel that way a lot of times, but that closeness lights my skin on fire and it's all i can do to keep my hands immobile and the minute space between us alive, because it's impossible to see you, supine and near and soft on my pillow, and not find myself pulling the threads tighter to sew makeshift stitches between our hips and fill the gaps between our lips.
i thrive on intimacy -- sex, tangling bodies as though they were singular secrets, knowing another as wel
SlickI drew a portrait of us;
We were dripping and bony
Like flowers left to a grey rain.
I was muttering with chapped lips
About nothing in particular
But you knew exactly what I meant
When I tucked all my fingers in and shuddered a ghost.
I was hungry and naked
Save my twice-a-virgin flesh.
You offered me your neck
I accepted with an eager blush in my cheeks and lost myself in your freckled shoulders.
You were warm compared to the ghosts I had slept with
(under red sheets on nights filled with nonsense vocalism-
shivering and imagining the burning city of which she sings)
Soft as a scream, I touched you and
My back bent forward as if trying to manifest wings-
Such wings as an angel would have
If any angel existed outside of you.
You made sounds like you were dying, drowning, and laughing
"I love you too"
So I said, and looked at your face
In the eyes of a dreamer, resplendent
Your arms locked around me and I began to sway-
Nature had positioned us like lovers,
Some sort of nearnessMy fingers are burning at the tips
like a never melting candle
to warm a cold-hearted night
full of brooding, condensed onto my windows.
These pensive moments leave me
with a handful of complaints
and a flooded room in which I wade
regretting the exit
I forgot to build myself.
You're off dancing with a pale moon
who will keep you in the sanctuary of her arms
in the ways I could never manage.
Still, your humming reaches my ears
and weak becomes the only trait worth holding on to.
My legs are frozen
and my spirit is broken
but all that continues to matter is you.
Looking backThese are the times when I want you here;
-to remind me of all the wrong words hanging from the roof of my mouth
-to hold me around the waist and squeeze until I stop choking on the mistakes
-to kiss me and say that's what insanity is supposed to feel like; beautiful.
-to show me that the world is still spinning slow enough for me to take a breath of life.
-to tell me I'm the one thing you don't regret.