The sunlight pours over my skin, but I don't feel it's warmth. I think I'll blame this feeling on the status of my heart.
I tried to cry out for help, but there were still hands around my throat. I just wanted someone to care; to wrap me in their arms, to kiss my forehead, to say, "Tell me all about it, babe." I've kept my history hidden for so long, I just wanted someone to care to hear … Continue reading Tell Me to Talk, Because I Need to
Should I ever lose the war inside my head, please know I gave this life my all. I saw the beauty in summer sunsets and the peace in watching snow fall. I found kindness in strangers smiles, felt joy in candid moments with my little. I loved harder than anyone I ever met, and lived … Continue reading Should I Ever Lose The War Inside My Head
Hostage in my own head, tormented by the trauma I run from. Drowning in fear, bleeding out heartbreak; the false smile I wear fools everyone. Hands around my throat, suffocating the light in me. Slipping into dissociation, reveling in hollowness; the pain might consume me whole. Death knocks on the door, tendency begs for another … Continue reading Should The Dark Outweigh The Light…
I was fine. I was fine and then I heard an unfamiliar noise and I couldn't tell where it was coming from, and the first thought that came to mind was How did he find me here? Twenty-three steps between me and safety. I was fine and then I wasn't and I was scared of … Continue reading Symptomatic
Cherry red lines lined along porcelain. Glides over delicate, leaves a stain. The internal is external now. The body betrayed, mind asks how. A two year hiatus thrown away. But she was doing okay. (She wasn’t doing okay.)
The alcohol burns my throat as it goes down, signs the drink should ease the pain soon. Songs with subtle piano fill the holes in my chest, tug at the strings that cling to my tattered heart. I let the melody serenade me as I sink lower, into a bathtub full of scorched water and … Continue reading Cycle
I find myself feeling sick to my stomach whenever you cross my mind. The butterflies you once gave me are now just hollowed carcasses left behind to poison me every time I hear your name.
We spend so much time placing emphasis on how "Sorry" is an action and not just a word. For the record, the phrase "Thank you" is an action, too.
It's in the silence of a pitch black room, where the glow of a streetlight outside filters through the slit where curtains meet that I find myself thinking about you. And I can't help but wonder, with my hands trembling at the thought of you, if you feel sorrow when you think of what you … Continue reading Tremble