January 2010
lostgirl answered your question "believe"
Depends. Why do you need to get in contact with me?
I’m very happy to be found, I just need to know why someone is searching.
Do tell?
1 tag
believe
do you believe
the ink on my skin?
bleeding into my veins
like paper on water
fire on ice
do you see
my quick-crumble-bones?
the feathers on my breath?
do you feel
my tongue move against yours?
skin sticky with sweat
hair spread across pillows
slide against me
people- tangled cords
do you hear
the battle of sense?
let down my walls
let me in fast
breathe me out slow
...
1 tag
tipping
and if you tell me
that you’re sorry
one big apology
i’ll laugh in your face
because that may be true
but it doesn’t change anything
i still hate you.
those words feel strange on the tip of my pen
dig deep into my brain
run your fingers through flesh
these words feel strange of the tip of my tongue
i am waiting for someone to say i look lost
but no one knows how lost...
1 tag
you are poison in my lungs
his hand on the small of her back, he can feel her muscles move as she walks
and what. is. happening?
they are closer, closer and he never thought he would be here
his hand on the small of her back, her heels clicking murder on ancient tile
1 tag
an ode to third hour
ten more minutes
freedom for twenty-five segements of sixty seconds
loud and gross and who are you kidding? this is prison.
1 tag
watching
math class. boring. he amuses himself by observing and studying
people, not books or formulas
the quiet girl in the back who doodles dreams in ink and doesn’t realize it could mean something
the boy who talks too loud and too fast so no one has to time to tell him what he fears they are thinking
the too-thin, disappearing girl who doesn’t think she matters unless she can count her...
1 tag
enough
“i love you” i do.
i love you on paper. in writing.
but i always seem to build you up in my mind as someone you’re not
and i tell myself i do that for all those people who don’t think you’re enough
but maybe i do it for myself because once you tell a lie enough, you start to believe it too
1 tag
treasure
and sometimes when she’s sleeping she dreams of emerald eyes, products of blood and sweat
marble skin, a result from people to young for dust in the lungs and picks in hand, but too hungry to avoid it
fine silk hair, woven by rough fingers from creatures we abhor
treasure from squalor
ruby lips that heed nothing
cold beauty
and underneath those emerald eyes (no one can know what...