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Notepad Poetry

Chapter Text

when the blackness curls 
tightly around you
and i don’t know what to do
my heart shatters for the fifth time this week.
because you want me to give you faith
when i have about none.

you expect my soul to be pure
when it’s gasping for breath.
i hope God holds you tightly,
because right now-

i cannot.

Chapter Text

I adore you.

I adored you when I shook your hand
and said, “Nice to meet you.”
I adored you when I walked away
and you said, “Nice to meet you too.”

I adored you when you took me skating
and even when you laughed as I fell,
I adored you.

I adored you when you held my waist
as we danced. 
As the mgaic burst forth from our chests
and I shuddered from the weight of it all,
I still adored you.

When we kissed
and I felt small and afraid,
I adored you.

I adored you through summer
and fall
and winter
then spring.

I adored you as I pictured our future
of joy and pure unending love.

I adored you.

I adore you.

But I think that you just
stopped adoring me
the second you realized 
I was adoring you.

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words spill.
i wipe them up.
you ignore them.

words spill.
i scoop them up.
you’re reading the newspaper.

words spill.
i throw a veil over them.
you continue watching t.v.

words spill.
i hesitate.
you don’t notice.

words spill.
i leave them there;
i hope they burn into your heart and soul.

you ask me where we’re going for dinner.

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Loneliness is a chill that holds my jaw steady.
Loneliness sits on my chest and I can’t breathe.

Your arms are made of warmth that cups my cheeks.
You make me feel soft and it scares me.

But loneliness scares me more
because my jaw
is starting to ache.

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the lights are off-
my eyes are heavy.
you’re holding me
and i know you’ll let me
escape if i must
but my body is heavy.
haze comes in softly
and chokes me to sleep.
in my slumber,
i cannot breathe.
the world keeps moving
and trepidation keeps me under.

wake me up.

Chapter Text

My love for her is

sex dusted in flowery prose.

My love for him is

wrong but my love for her is

just as wicked.

I choke on their blood

and they call it my own.

Cut my chest,

I’m broken less

but still the example

of a fallen angel.

In the mornings I undress

and bathe in lust.

I lay aside my bottles of fire

and torture the ones of yesterday.

My breath drips with dirty passion

and my stench is of blood.

In reality-

I lay down beside her,

she holds my head as I whine

and she says,

“Turn the heat up.

You are cold.”

Chapter Text

I sat in class at ten years old and I was told
of the rolling fields and lush skies;
the wars that were fought and won;
the bloodshed was wrapped in packages 
that we sold in bite-sized pieces
for the kids to consume.

We lived with starry eyes and wide smiles;
spread it far and wide- America the beautiful.
Home of the brave.
I see opportunity on every sign in my street;
opportunity my mother carried as a young woman
and passed onto her quiver. 
America’s idea holds onto my heart.

Then I watch the rivers on the television screen
stain with blood.
I begin to wonder if I’ve outgrown
the American Dream.

On nights when I hear neighbors 
who shout in jubilee 
and nights my phone shrieks with 
letters bulging with hopeful faith and belief,
I turn the television off
and cradle the future’s dream.

I keep the dream nestled beside my friends
and my joys of being here-
even when the skies aren’t as bright
and the hope isn’t present,
I keep it beside me.

Sometimes my voice grows lurid 
during the storms in this place;
I make it gentle when we grieve
the storm’s destruction.

Through my life I shall sing-
The storm has come through 
and it changes us but I still
fight for change where it’s due
and I praise where we’ve grown.

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We live in separate mindsets,
define beauty with different terms.
You’re a fan of vivid colours and noise;
I like the gentle fade.

You sing with exuberance,
eyes trained to the skies.
I sing quietly with you,
much joy in my eyes.

You take leads but sometimes you fall back;
you always plaster your hurt
with an over-plastic laugh.
You wear sunlight in your smile,
moonlight in your hair.

You love too much but with more reservation than I
and your heart is crowned with dignity.
I hope whoever you find
treats it kindly.

We may move to different cities,
settle down in different towns.
We may live in different spectrums
of what we are, who we are
and what we’re meant to be-

But if you call me at three in the morning
and want to talk about
soup cans in our mailbox,

I am there.
And will always be
if I can help it.

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I’m sure that boots on bruised ribs hurt more than
and I’m sure that hips slamming into cabinets hurt more than
But I am so hateful right now
and I realised I haven’t let it go.
But I’m so pissed you didn’t bruise my ribs
or kick me into the cabinets.
Instead, you crushed the gentleness of an innocent.

And honestly?
I hate you for that.

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Claws are outside my window.
Claws are out there, waiting to rip me
away from you.

Why are we waiting?
We are alone!
It’s just you and I.

They’ve twisted the knob,
we need to leave.

Why are you still waiting?
For there is no one;
there is only you and I.

Darling, they creep near,
they catch our scent,
why in God’s name
are we still waiting?

And it hits me;
as they drag me away
and you run to her.

Oh my,
I guess it wasn’t just
you and I.

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He sits there beside me
and tends to my head;
he counts down the hours
and I break with dread.

He laughs when there’s no joke
then cries for a while.
He says that he loves me.
He praises my smile.

He gropes every piece 
that I have forsaken.
I try to return them
but find they are taken. 

He calls me his baby
and I tell him no.
He gets angry and
buries me in snow.

My family begs us to marry
and he agrees.
I am stuck in this house
with unspoken pleas.

In the night I cut away my pride;
he sleeps safe and sound.
And when he awakes;
he finds I’m not around.

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My world is a scene from a movie
that goes to slow.
Winter nights,
under the stars
wondering who I am
and where you are.

My world is a scene from a movie
and it’s tinged in grey.
Without you-
without him-
without her.

It’s lonely to know
I am alone.
In this scene that repeats 
over and over and

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It comes in bouts and
holds me captive in my bed.
My heart will race my brain
and make me doubt my body’s reign.
I will stay awake to the sound
of pounding at my ribs.
I’ll clutch at all my anchors-
even if there are none around.
I’ll blow dust off my boxes of hope.
I’ll pray God will hold me tight.
The dark parts of me miss 
the rips in my skin. 
The even darker ones
have an image of my coffin
taped above my bed.

But I’ll grit my teeth
and tie my flailing thoughts down.
I’ll tell myself,
Then I will cradle them gently,
the parts of myself which I hate,
and I will tell them all the things
I’ve wanted someone else to say to me.

They will shake and they will tremble;
they will exhaust themselves
and pause in their fighting. 
They will let themselves be fragile
for a flashing moment in this bed.
I will fall asleep there and wake again.
When I do, I will not complain
that I am alive.

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Lasting thoughts
imprinted on my mind.
I go through the day,
falling behind.

If only you knew
it never will be
a perfect sky
when I drown at sea.

I’m a sickness,
you cannot deny;
through the thin you left
and thick you still lie.

Love wasn’t a game
and it wasn’t so bad.
But love was terrifying
and that’s why it’s sad.

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I’m drawn tighter than the rubber bands that keep your hair in check and I’m
breathing faster than you’d ever dare drive and I’m
laced with shitty lies and fucked trust and angry scars and I’m
supposed to be your best friend and you’re
mine but I see late into the night that you’re
afraid of losing hands you clutch so tight and you’re
scared to drown because you’re
afraid to find you’ve never been alive and you’re
counting down the hours until I leave and I’m
trying hard to keep us on the road but you’re
looking kind of bored right now and I’m
scared that this love shouldn’t be alive because it immediately dies and I’m
scared that through all of this I lost track of who
I am and in that, you lost track of who
you are
and I
cannot find anything to say to remedy that.

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i feel a little like i did at fifteen.
freshly in love,
freshly fallen for
songs that seem to describe
everything about me.

just starting to recover
just starting to live

once again.

sometimes i start to forget what
it’s like to really feel alive.
that ache in my chest-
those tears in my eyes.
because i am

alive and i
am terrified but i swear to God
i’m gonna stay alive as much as i

because dull days come
and darken my world
but those days will wash away.

i will stand in the rain
and i will breathe and
experience each emotion with
my whole heart-
just like i did

at fifteen.

Chapter Text

I’ll open your pages, stories of lies.
Built upon pain
that’s sewn in the bindings with all of your
whispers of tears.

O, dragons come set me aflame.
Creatures of the sea, wash your oceans over me.
Knights, carry me home
to a prince or a princess
who loves me.

I’ll smother myself with paper.
Bleed out in my bed from
fictitious wounds.

I’ll curl my soul around fantasies
and let them sing me to sleep.
Bed myself with echoes of people
that never held my hand.

In my brain-
my home is sturdy.
We built it of iron
rather than glass.

I am curled beside someone
and they keep me warm
through all of the cold.

They do not scream.
I do not flinch.
They are an escape;
not the warzone.

But I lay in my bed
where nothing is real.
I cry on my paper cuts
and I pray to God.

I say,
“Sew up my home
with the threads under these pages.
I want to be there
or I want to die.”

I’m met with silence
for another damned time.

There is no comfort
in this home built on lies.

But when the tears have passed,
I open you up
and you take me away.
In those moments-
I am okay.

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I sit at the foot of your bed
and say that I’m scared of death
but not mine.
You breathe and I cannot understand
when I don’t feel like anything is alive
I try not to cry.
“I love you. I love you. I love you. Iloveyou,”
I say
until I cannot
speak through
the rocks in my throat.

The next day,
you do not breathe.

I hope
Christmas shines bright
in the skies.
And I hope
hope isn’t hopeless.
I hope you know

I love you
and I’m sorry

we didn’t get the chance to
play cards before you died.