Tag: spilled emotions

your name on my tongue 
(the only fruit i will not eat)
is overripe,
no longer sweet– past it’s prime
and overdue– 
my heart no longer aches for you.

your name on my tongue doesn’t taste like anything anymore // a.s.m

there are places
i cannot look at myself
even when i am alone; 
please don’t
touch me there.

please love my naked soul,
please do not force
my layers off, do not force
my clothing off
before i am ready because
this body is the only thing that
i’ve ever been able to call my own
and i am not ready to
give that up yet; i’m not quite
ready to let you in.

i am learning how to grow
my own boundaries from
the dust that has finally
settled, and this body is
the only vehicle i can drive.
i am not quite ready to
share it yet.

i know you see beauty,
but the mirror paints stories of
pain and struggle and learning and
growing and scars and
bleeding
that only i see, and you can never
own that.

i don’t want to belong to
anyone but myself.

i cannot sell my body and
you cannot buy it.
i am scared to share something
i have only just learned to
love and care for because
with just a touch
you have the power to 
break it.

my body is the only thing i’ve never had to share with everyone and i cannot find it within myself to let go // a.s.m

i never learned to
walk. i learned to
tiptoe
around eggshell grenades
on tile kitchen floors, 
to dance gracefully 
dodging projectile dinner
plates on
Sunday afternoons, 
to twist and crawl from
torrid gazes, to leap
out of the trajectory of
missiles spat under one’s
breath, and amid the floods on the
kitchen tile, to land
unscathed.

i’ve only learned to move in avoidance: do not live your life simply to dance around eggshells // a.s.m

clockwork heart
beating to the rhythm of 
your affection, 
i am everyone else’s 
property but
my own by the age of
four.

a mannequin child
a dress-up doll, 
a dog small enough to 
carry in a purse. but
i don’t bark– 
i’ve been well-trained with
self hatred and
your back to my face. 

i bet you didn’t know 
you’d shrink– disappearing; 
the sun drying you
like a raisin until
you shrivel.
i no longer feel
so small. i no longer seem
so weak.
you no longer seem so right.
you are not my god anymore.
 
i will run barefoot
across the yard with
my hair down and shirt untucked.
i will breathe a little
too deeply and know for once
the only lungs
i can burst are my own.

mother // a.s.m

i want to bleed tonight. 
when nothing makes sense
i want to bleed out because
my heart’s not beating right. 

i want to bleed tonight because
deep wounds heal eventually; my
favorite reminder that everything ends
up alright. 

i bleed because i need to know 
i am flesh and blood and not a ghost.

the night of 9/23/15: sometimes i still have the urge to hurt myself but i write about it instead of actually doing it. it is not the same. // a.s.m 

there are no words that i could write
to fully repaint that summer night:
the grass deep green, the sky blood red
the thoughts of death flooding my head

the ghost of your warm hands in mine
mem’ries of green eyes and lips of wine
the only thing i wanted to do
was tangle myself back up in you

i sat and watched the city lights
the day slowly melting to night
the way the moon shone– like your face–
drowned the city lights in grace

you left no beauty when you went
my mind gone numb, my heart left spent
i lost control, then came the tears
alone with all my greatest fears

those tears i shed, the guilt i felt
can’t change the cards that i’ve been dealt
and with each step your face will fade
one day i’ll breathe without you, unafraid.

it’s true, i still think of you: but i am getting stronger without you and soon you’ll fade // a.s.m

it is hard for me to believe
sometimes
that you were once naked
and crying, too. 
you were once
twenty and counting
the ways to escape. 
you were once taught truths
which later dissolved
underneath you.
you were once soft
and glowing with hope and
the certainty of tomorrow. 
you once laughed
without the reek of bitterness
and stale cigarettes: 
you were in love, 
once. 
you were once
free. 
and i think 
that perhaps i could have 
loved you, once.
perhaps when you look at me, 
you still see
yourself.

Nectar // a.s.m

i’ve memorized the words
to every line
on your face. 
i know the notes that play 
in the background
of your mind. 
i know by heart the rhythm 
of your heartbeat. 
i know every single part of the song
you’re living, and
i love it.

you are my favorite song // a.s.m