poetry

sorry.

“how’ve you been?”

i don’t really know.

sorry.

“are you doing okay?”

no.

sorry.

“what’ve you been up to?”

worrying, picking my skin,

wishing i were dead,

skipping meals.

sorry.

“are you good?”

not really;

i’m generally a

pretty shitty

person.

sorry.

sorry that i couldn’t be

fine

and that i’m an inconvenience

and a burden.

i just want to

be alright and

instead i’m shutting down.

don’t ask me how i am

because i can’t lie

right now.

poetry

honesty

I’ve spent so long

running

from demons.

so long trying to escape

curled, thin claws

scraping away at my scalp.

so long breathing

through fog banks and

cloaks and freedom I’ve never tasted.

so long pick, pick, picking

away at layers of skin

to see if my heart’s still beating.

so long pretending

to be somebody they wanted

me to be, to be somebody

I knew I wasn’t.

so long ignoring voices

ignoring their words, ignoring

their space in my head.

so long trying to focus

trying to be perfect, trying

to get it all done, to do

a good job.

so long hoping

that someday I could be

like them.

I’m not.

some days, that’s okay.

but today, all I can see

is numb and flawed,

and I would rather

not

be

here.

 

 

poetry

prompt: the most expensive person you’ve ever loved

sixteen years of ticking clocks,

fifteen bottles of tears,

fourteen weeks of meals unearned,

thirteen shattered mirrors.

twelve ribs bruised and purpled,

eleven careless wishes,

ten fingers soft in signing,

nine years of burnt bridges.

eight summers growing up,

seven hearts that strayed,

six years old and silenced,

five pills every day.

four seasons spinning onwards,

three words I never said,

two more years of mistrust,

one protest to the dead.

all the costs stack up

I don’t know why I try

self-love is impossible,

but if you ask, I’m doing fine.