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mother to daughter

i held you tight
so you’d know the touch of love
and he’d never break you open
the way he did me
like a vulture
cracking the ribs wide open
digging into the tender meat
i was a full meal
but you were never within his reach

I say I have freedom,
If freedom means I roam around my cage
I say I have all my necessities,
If I’m given what I “need” and not what I want
I speak,
But each lyric is not a literal message,
Just a song.
A mere humming of my feelings,
That no can hear, comprehend
A plea for help is mistaken as a serene tune.
My vehement moments of triumph,
Are just a small squeak of the puny creature I am
I have feathers,
Yet I’m enclosed in jagged thorns
I say I have wings,
Wings that once sliced through the air like blades.
They have not been cut,
But my voice has been
But my motivation has been
While my struggles and hardships fly free.

This is a poem I wrote in middle school, I sort of went back to it a few weeks ago and rewrote some of it. A family member passed at the time, which is why I wrote. Please don't repost this without permission from me, it's not even the best I've written.

Yikes, seems like this hasn't been contributed to in a while... So I'm going to shyly share some of my silly freeverse emotional works!



polyga-me

hands. fingers. nerves. blood.

she touched upon sinister, well trained flesh
with a flame so mild, he saw pink

caressing skin, unknown borders,
bones and flesh and the messy white noise
in between

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀....rumination

he harbors the voices of foreign souls,
too many to count, trite in his nature

bastardized by the turbulence
of dereliction and apathy,
craving... always craving.

and yet, her hands. her fingers.
her nerves. her blood.
hypnotic. narcotic. symbiotic.

heaven sent meditation. reflection.
therapy. vitality. his perfect health,
met with unsure touch

consideration. contemplation. surrender.
a single body to quiet the mind.

years are merely weeks are merely days
are merely hours

submit. pacify. for he, is hers.


x


drowning is appealing

we were still trying to breathe, i promise
beautifully, for a time, but ripped so quickly from our shores
we were hesitant and careful in our graceless downfall
but these last few days, or weeks, months even...

(i don't know, we can't keep track of the clock anymore. inhale.)

...have dulled the fragile sense in our fingertips
and given our suspicion to the winter
my bones are breaking from frailty in the cold
but you seem fine, at least, finer than the vacancy
our oceans of painkillers left in us

(we can get through one more day with our eyes open. exhale.)

i hate to think of what i have done to your lungs
blackened by my disease and sorrow by now, im sure
what was once soft can only become worn once it is touched
and with me i'm sure the process is faster.
apologies stutter out of me like an abrupt rain
but my words do nothing but smash asphalt
like you, on black out nights you've come to crave

inhale. exhale. i'd love to see you live again.

(i'd love to be me again.)


x


body of water

i lost myself in your waves
a mix and tangle of words too deep
just as you seemed to fumble over syllables
and catch yourself on stutters of gold
and silver bunches of vagueness and aging rage

your words are thick tar and melt me to the bone
but i am thin and worrisome about your being
ill surround you for as long as you allow me
cleanse you as you trust me
kiss your dirtied sinner skin
as much as my equal guilt allows

there is beauty in your every action
hidden under winds and sands of escapades long gone
kiss away the fear and consume the fires
that ensue within the glistening pools you hide

for what once was callused by dust
can be allowed to grow again