Hands Tell Stories Too.

i told you i loved the night we spent together

i wish i could have captured the grin you wore

so proud of the terrible things you did to me

how i love that smile

the same lips that grazed my skin not long ago

the same hands that caressed my body

the same hair that I tugged on as i made a show of your acts

it was only an act

all of the good things came to an end

the heavy breathing started

my lungs were collapsing

my heart forgot to beat

it was too busy aching to love you

wishing to be more than just a body

something about falling snow is unsettling

peaceful to the eye

silencing the havoc throughout homes with a foot of soundproof encasing

sure the purity of the winter is breathtaking

but my lawn has been walked over time and time again

and the chaos is seeping out through the gaps of my snow boots

my screams echo with snow flakes hitting the ground

this chill in my bones is not serene

Pain is the price of creation

Thoughts on Poetry/Having a Womb That Bleeds Every Month | @rose-resplendent

outside my window the

night spreads like a

virus infecting space with

shadow; smothering the solitary

citadels, the white flags, the bells;

stretching on and on it

erodes all color, all shiny things,

turning them gritty and dull with

void; night cannot last forever yet

even now i suffer the well in my heart

drying up, my eyes only seeing the

flowers on my skin by inadequate starlight.

i’ve dreamed of death countless times

oh how i wish to not have woken up in the last moments before my demise

the sweet seconds before a forever peace are whispering to me

taunting me to stumble into deaths eternal embrace

“i have a problem with letting go of things with clenching my hands like a vice and holding on despite everything it’s why i keep all my memories with me carry them in my phone, on my walls in the little box inside my closet even though it’ll always remain closed i have a hard time letting go of people, of memories that no longer ring true i clutch them like i’d be bereft without them the conversations with people i don’t speak to anymore the photos i want to pull down from my walls the memories i no longer want to recall i never allow myself to mourn i hoard them and keep them close and i just can’t seem to let go.”

— i no longer want to meet new people because i’m afraid one day all they’ll ever be are memories i want to revisit, redo, ones that i want to stay in forever and would forever regret. memories that i would never let go of, but memories, nevertheless | wt.

I should’ve jumped when the ball-point pen across the room started scribbling

scratching the surface of a worn down notepad

hovering over it, I saw my name

in bolded letters I read the word ALONE

how dare a mystery writer reach into my soul

ripping out my deepest feeling

addressing it like you would the day’s weather

I would’ve complained, if there were anyone to hear me speak

the invisible critic marked another word

AFRAID

my hand connected with the paper as an arrow pointed to my destroyed nail beds

I guess the analysis wasn’t wrong as I drew back my shaky hands

I thought it was the fear of getting hurt

that held me back from falling in love;

now I understand

it was really the fear of hurting others

that was truly unbearable.

he finally told me he was proud of me yesterday

after i had given all of myself

searching in other people what he didn’t give me

selling parts of my soul for short lived validation

but you’re proud of me dad?

all that is left of me is my heart in your hands

what i’ve become is great he says

but i look in the mirror

and i see a few strands of hair falling from a broken down body

morsels to appreciate

but finally, he is satisfied

-sundayafternoonsedentary

i really wish i hadn’t charmed my therapist

maybe i wouldn’t be sitting in the position if i had

i wanted her approval just as much as anyone else’s

so i lied and cried at the right parts

reeling her in until-

snatch.

“this is not your fault”

but you see sarah,

it is.

all of it is.

but if i reveal my tactic of manipulation

my whole facade will come crumbling down

and you’ll begin to realize that i am not the victim of my own story

i’ve been pulling the right strings and moving the right pawns

but again, here i am

wishing i didn’t have to lie to you

because right now. i need you.

-sundayafternoonsedentary