my heart’s been a black hole / since i was just a little kid / i’ve been sweeping up breadcrumbs, and holding onto flowers long after they’re dead / my heart’s been hungry for even the slightest scraps of affection / so i scrubbed the floors and i brushed my teeth, and i bent over backwards / just in case you couldn’t take me standing up / just in case i went too far, just in case i said too much / just in case you see me now, and i’m not so nice to the touch / i’ve been holding people’s hands just a bit too tight / and tugging on sweaters til they started to run / i’ve chased you halfway down the highway / asphalt burning at my feet / and vacuumed-sealed my fury / to be opened up at some later date / i’ve been sitting by the faucet with a paper tongue / couldn’t take my eyes off you all night / cause if i lose track of you in the chaos / then i know you’ll forget about me / ‘cause my best chapter is probably just a footnote / in your history / i’ve been starving for something i can’t even name since i was just a little kid / broken fingernails cracked lips, i’m thinking this is how it ends / i’m thinking hold your breath and swallow / when she tells you it’s all just pretend, she didn’t mean it / she never did / and it’s all well and good until you’re / just a little bit too much / i filled up your cup until it overflowed / and who’s got time for that shit / i know / i know / i know
i don’t really like this song, but it’s stuck in my brain
so i’ll listen out of pity
i’ll wash the dishes and i’ll bitch about work, and school
math assignments, my ever-aching back
i’ll sing to the refrain
i’ll wind the player back
‘cause i miss things i’ve never even had
stockings and pinafores
polaroid photos and low rise jeans
and dial-up internet
i miss a utopia i have never seen with the lights on
i see her in my dreams, i dance around her skirt on the ballroom floor
don’t know how i ended up here
except on the wings of random luck
i miss a wasted youth i don’t know
but she looks pretty perfect in the magazines
with her 16th birthday convertibles
getting drunk at parties, adulthood on free trial
doing bad things
with no consequence
i miss people i haven’t seen since the second grade
i hope they’re doing good
i hope they don’t fall asleep on a spiderweb
swaying in the wind
old phobias creeping over their skin
i hope the sun shines through their windows
i hope they read books and dog-ear the pages
i hope they drink lemonade and they give gifts to strangers
like it doesn’t cost them anything
i don’t like this song
but i can’t stop listening, need to know
how it ends, need to build it a casket and lay it down to rest
need to sing all the falsetto highs
‘til my throat is sore
need to go through the five stages of grief
for something that can’t die
because it’s not even a person
and i’ll be out of here before you know it
i’ll look back on old memories with a pit in my stomach
feel my heart wrench
and i will miss the lies you told me
flannel-soft and kind, right to the finish
Not entirely sure what this poem means, but I like how it turned out.
flap your little butterfly wings in my chest, and tell me how things are improving. (no really, like you mean it this time.) sing to me, caterpillar, about how people are trying their best. with love in their hearts, somewhere so deep inside. and tell me how they’re still evil, still cruel, still shatter people like bird’s eggs in their palms and watch the blood pool on the floor. flap your little butterfly wings, and fly away from all of it. paint yourself comforting shades of pink and blue and tell me things that make sense; build up stories like scaffolding. like a haunting, like a home. kiss the places i’ve been hurt, and whisper sweet nothings as my stomach churns. i think i’m gonna be sick. i think i’m gonna lie in bed all morning, and look out at the world from my bedroom window, cast in darkened light. rest your head on my shoulder, and say you’ll stay. say you’ll put all the pieces back together with duct tape and glue. i’ll braid flowers in your hair, and it’ll be just like in the movies. it won’t hurt, it won’t ache, and i won’t cry about it later, when you fly away into the summer breeze, somewhere i can’t go. i won’t feel it, galaxies crumbling in my mind. i’ll stand there on the driveway, until i’m buried in snow.
I’m not totally sure where this came from, but I think it turned out really pretty.
let’s paint a picture: it’s 12am, and i am in my head
tossing and turning
heart crashing into my ribcage like waves against the shore
and suddenly, all the empty spaces on my walls
have never ached more clearly
and what if they see me? what if they don’t?
what if i fuck up? what if i’m alone?
what if i run away to paris? what if i say no?
’cause maybe in another language, my heart would sing clear this time
clear, like the morning
clear like progress, one step at a time
clear like a green lawn, and the good life we all chased after
even when paradise started to rot in our teeth
when the walls began to sing
and the staircase buckled under my weight
and the songbirds looked more like vultures
closing in around me
and maybe i’m dreaming; i don’t even know
’cause i don’t trust my mind; not in this shit-show
you know that picture of you and me, from way back when?
and we’re sitting on the rock, looking out at the ocean
i thought you were the whole world to me
i thought you were gravity, you were freckles and sharp teeth
like the kindest daydream i had ever met
i used to think there was an art to being quiet. sticking to the back row seats, and doing as i’m told, no more and no less. nodding along obediently. i’m doing good, aren’t i? because if i’m not, i swear to god i’ll make it up to you. i’ll write i’m sorry across the kitchen wall, etch it out in sharpie on my palm.
i’ll cry a quiet river when it won’t wash away, and lock myself in my room for days. until this sickness starts to fade. i’m good at that too, they say.
and maybe i’ll open the door, and show it all to you someday; the photos on strings, the posters on the walls. half-finished sketches, and poems, and that really bad song. i’ll speak in brilliant colours, and look you in the eye.
i’ll know what to say, and do, when you bandage the chip on my shoulder and lay out your broken pieces like a puzzle on my lap. i’ll find all the king’s horses, just you wait and see. i’ll carve myself a place in the world, and fit the role effortlessly.
but for now, i think i just need to be alone, wrapped up in blankets on a rainy day, and write myself dizzy. let my mind go blank. in the hopes that maybe, from that empty, something will appear. something good, and kind. something new. and i won’t run away this time. i promise you.