Tag: trigger warning

Henry

wingedpiglets:

I will never hear you say
why you did it;
but I like to think it was not out of fear
of the future or
cowardice, sadness, or unbearable weight on your slim shoulders,
but rather because you saw
what others felt
and you felt it, too;
and as you sat at the ledge looking down,
it was not out of weakness that you flew,
but out of bravery to know that your message
may not be heard,
out of hope that as you fell into eternal slumber
somebody would wake up
and feel the suffering,
too. 

Rock-a-Bye, Baby

wingedpiglets:

Nobody warned you
that once I left
the warm walls of your womb,
I would be your sacrifice
to this world;
that I was no longer yours to control.
I was destined to move
with the mountains, to walk
barefoot on the soil and let the soles
of my feet close all gaps between me
and the universe.

And yet you fight—loudly, violently, teeth bared—
to tell the cosmos I am yours.
My first unsteady steps, the first utterances
to tumble from my mouth, my every
achievement and failure
belong to you.
If you cannot have them, no one can,
not even me.

And so you destroy
me
slowly; blindly tearing me apart,
consuming me until
I am once again
completely, undoubtedly, a part
of you. 

For those who jumped, and for those who didn’t jump but wish they had

wingedpiglets:

When you jumped, I cried because
I wished I’d been holding your hand as you fell.
When you were gone, I screamed at the sky to
take me, too.
When I was alone, I was wedged
in a corner of darkness, and I had locked myself in.
I’d wished you’d carried me with you, because
I was just as trapped, just as lost; the books weighed me down, too, you know.
I was filled with just as much hate and hopelessness and
cynicism, just as thirsty for nothingness. 

Now, when I laugh with my whole
heart, I wish you were here laughing, too.
When I sit in the sun and feel the Earth kiss my nose,
I wish you were beside me because
I am learning sometimes
it takes a while sitting in the sun to feel its warmth,
and sometimes when we finally
stumble out
of the darkness, it takes a while for our eyes to
adjust to the light.
But when we can finally get a glimpse of it, it is spectacular.
I wish you were here to see it.

i see you, limp
 
on the ground
in every room of this house
and sometimes on sidewalks
and in darkly lit places. 

i’ve been sleeping with the lights
on lately, but
they don’t protect me
from the darkness
that’s entered my mind 

they leave,
constantly illuminated,
the inescapable end
i discovered in your eyes 
as they rolled back
into your head
on the hardwood floors
where we used to build
empires.

your civil war // a.s.m

get so high that
you feel numb, 
slit your wrists while in
the tub. warm water glides
over the edge of your
porcelain ship. blood flows
through caulk river
channels between
the tile. you will haunt the 
seals between the
floor forever.

Cecilia // a.s.m

mother, don’t you know? 
the boy with the golden 
irises doesn’t smile anymore. 
he’s packed, and there’s something 
heavy in the bags he carries
underneath those eyes.
there’s no such thing as darkness
in the city of angels.
there’s no fear in death when 
you welcome it. 
perhaps the sun will thaw
him, perhaps the cold has
nothing to do with why he’s 
so numb.

you can’t run away from what’s within // a.s.m

a nuclear bomb has just gone off
in the living room. 
the ground bubbles
under pressure, vibrations rising
like heat and the Christmas
tree trembles, 
golden orbs shimmying and
dangling precariously off
evergreen cliffs. 

a mushroom cloud is spreading throughout
every single room in the house. 
i stay put but keep my head down.

my heart doesn’t palpitate when
the walls start to quiver.
with a smile, i close my eyes and
enjoy the way it feels
as though the house is rocking
me to sleep. 

there will be plenty of time
to clean up the mess later.

good vibrations: Christmas morning // a.s.m

i shouldn’t have let him
close the door.
everyone knows nothing
good happens to young girls
behind closed doors
and yet i wasn’t thinking
about freedom when i heard
the lock click. i was all dolled up
for the camera.

i heard your voice in my head,
saying you wouldn’t let
him touch me.
but the door closed and
you couldn’t see
where his hands were sliding.
i was
just another day at work.
just another photoshoot.
just another.

i wonder if
he knows my body
has become a shrine to
the emptiness
he thrust within me.
i wonder if he cares
that i’ve flinched under
every pair of hands
since.

i wonder if he remembers
my name.

i wonder if he remembers // a.s.m