There is a bruise on my left knee in the shape of a lung
I poke it and prod it with my index finger and wait for the colours to change
Wait for it to hurt
But it doesn’t
It just makes it harder to breathe
“You can cry today but tomorrow you have to pick yourself up and move on”
One day
One day to take all your swirling emotions and quell them
One day to stop your lip from quivering and your spine from aching and your stomach from twisting into knots
One day to close the curtain, for good
I cheated and gave myself two
“If you leave, please stay gone.”
I am watching a spider tiptoe across the wall, silent, sc
I’ll bruise my knees on purpose
To remember what they looked like that morning
I’ll drink jäger straight from the bottle so I can watch it swirl in the sink
I’ll snort glass and hope I bleed down my chin, into my open mouth
I’ll walk in the rain without a coat to feel the chill set in, feel goosebumps that hurt
(I am nothing if not a masochist)
I’ll avoid cigarettes so I can pretend I don’t taste you mixed with the smoke
Or maybe I’ll smoke them all the time
So I can remember the burn
So I can remember the ash
So I can condition myself
Pavlov’s bitch
I wanted to write a poem about warm concrete and fireflies
But all I can think about is how you're not in my bed
And how you may never be back again
So I slept instead
2.
I admit, sometimes, I'll look at pictures of you that people posted after you died
I pretend that I actually knew you and trace your life through pixels and letters people can't send now
I see you with your family, with your friends, with your little brother who is still too small
Once an older boy picked on him
I wanted to hurt him but someone got to him first and broke his nose
I don't know if that's what you would have wanted
But it's what I wanted
Because death isn't fair and I'm always seeking some kind of justice
I morbidly wonder what your last moments were like
They say you were asleep and that you didn't feel a thing
Do you think it's possible to talk yourself into being someone new?
I guess I do because I spend my time talking out loud to my reflection
When steam condenses and hides my features
Makes me into a new canvas
A blank mask
A stranger
Would I really, I mean really really, want to be someone else?
If I could, I'd be someone smart and beautiful and elegant and wonderful
But mostly I'd just be content
With whoever this new me was
And things would naturally fall into place for her
And obviously things would be good
Not great, I don't need great
Just good
If I'm not admittedly sad, does that make me happy?
I don't feel sad or mad
"No matter what's happened, I love you."
The wool sweater you bought me is a little too tight now and it itches desperately against my arms
I wrap them tightly around my sides in an attempt to keep my organs all in place despite the constant shifting of my sobs
Maybe, if I squeeze tight enough, I can puncture a lung with the edge of a rib bone
"And you know that I've never done anything worth remembering. That's why I've got you. You've got to be something. My life can't be for nothing."
Yesterday, I imagined what life would be like if you were dead
I would take the memory box on your dresser and keep it on mine and try to remember wha
Winter is chapped lips
And refusing to wear warm jackets
And "you'll shoot your eye out"
And, by the way, it's quiet without you here
There's ice in my lungs and I wonder what it would be like to drown
They say your life flashes before your eyes
My flashes, photographs and swimming lesson ribbons, are tattered and stripped
I am a ghost already
I lie under the Christmas tree every year and watch the lights
Until my eyes hurt and sting
And the soft spots of colour permanently blot the room for hours
And make everything that's drab and colourless, beautiful
One day, I'm going to learn to read my palms
So that when things go wrong I
I say "I wish I could write you a letter"
But really I just wish I could talk to you without stumbling over my words
And without censoring my thoughts
And without biting my lips and wringing my hands
I would tell you that taking off your clothes is easy
Getting drunk and slipping into your bed is the simplest thing
I can do it with my eyes closed
My lips find your lips in the dark and your hands can find my hips without looking
It's easy
But it's those quiet moments
It's when I can't see you in the dark
I can only trace the outlines of your skin and bones, letting my fingers dip across your skin until goosebumps rise and you crush
Ramblings of a Drunken Whore by issylyss, literature
Literature
Ramblings of a Drunken Whore
And my lips tingle and sting
So I bite them
Gnaw
Until they blister and bleed
My skin is just the way I like it
Enough to stay warm
Enough to let the breeze brush over
Raise goosebumps
You give me goosebumps
The way you kiss my neck
From behind
Like a secret
Sometimes I feel like your secret
Perhaps I'm just a ghost though
Fading
Falling
I'm bruised in awkward places
Skin green and yellow and blue
Blue eyes
You say I have pretty blue eyes
Baby blue eyes
You call me your baby
Innocent
My shoes know better
My hands know better
So you kiss me to make it better
To make me forget
To make me quiet
And I let you
Because
There is a bruise on my left knee in the shape of a lung
I poke it and prod it with my index finger and wait for the colours to change
Wait for it to hurt
But it doesn’t
It just makes it harder to breathe
“You can cry today but tomorrow you have to pick yourself up and move on”
One day
One day to take all your swirling emotions and quell them
One day to stop your lip from quivering and your spine from aching and your stomach from twisting into knots
One day to close the curtain, for good
I cheated and gave myself two
“If you leave, please stay gone.”
I am watching a spider tiptoe across the wall, silent, sc
I’ll bruise my knees on purpose
To remember what they looked like that morning
I’ll drink jäger straight from the bottle so I can watch it swirl in the sink
I’ll snort glass and hope I bleed down my chin, into my open mouth
I’ll walk in the rain without a coat to feel the chill set in, feel goosebumps that hurt
(I am nothing if not a masochist)
I’ll avoid cigarettes so I can pretend I don’t taste you mixed with the smoke
Or maybe I’ll smoke them all the time
So I can remember the burn
So I can remember the ash
So I can condition myself
Pavlov’s bitch
I wanted to write a poem about warm concrete and fireflies
But all I can think about is how you're not in my bed
And how you may never be back again
So I slept instead
2.
I admit, sometimes, I'll look at pictures of you that people posted after you died
I pretend that I actually knew you and trace your life through pixels and letters people can't send now
I see you with your family, with your friends, with your little brother who is still too small
Once an older boy picked on him
I wanted to hurt him but someone got to him first and broke his nose
I don't know if that's what you would have wanted
But it's what I wanted
Because death isn't fair and I'm always seeking some kind of justice
I morbidly wonder what your last moments were like
They say you were asleep and that you didn't feel a thing
Do you think it's possible to talk yourself into being someone new?
I guess I do because I spend my time talking out loud to my reflection
When steam condenses and hides my features
Makes me into a new canvas
A blank mask
A stranger
Would I really, I mean really really, want to be someone else?
If I could, I'd be someone smart and beautiful and elegant and wonderful
But mostly I'd just be content
With whoever this new me was
And things would naturally fall into place for her
And obviously things would be good
Not great, I don't need great
Just good
If I'm not admittedly sad, does that make me happy?
I don't feel sad or mad
"No matter what's happened, I love you."
The wool sweater you bought me is a little too tight now and it itches desperately against my arms
I wrap them tightly around my sides in an attempt to keep my organs all in place despite the constant shifting of my sobs
Maybe, if I squeeze tight enough, I can puncture a lung with the edge of a rib bone
"And you know that I've never done anything worth remembering. That's why I've got you. You've got to be something. My life can't be for nothing."
Yesterday, I imagined what life would be like if you were dead
I would take the memory box on your dresser and keep it on mine and try to remember wha
Winter is chapped lips
And refusing to wear warm jackets
And "you'll shoot your eye out"
And, by the way, it's quiet without you here
There's ice in my lungs and I wonder what it would be like to drown
They say your life flashes before your eyes
My flashes, photographs and swimming lesson ribbons, are tattered and stripped
I am a ghost already
I lie under the Christmas tree every year and watch the lights
Until my eyes hurt and sting
And the soft spots of colour permanently blot the room for hours
And make everything that's drab and colourless, beautiful
One day, I'm going to learn to read my palms
So that when things go wrong I
I say "I wish I could write you a letter"
But really I just wish I could talk to you without stumbling over my words
And without censoring my thoughts
And without biting my lips and wringing my hands
I would tell you that taking off your clothes is easy
Getting drunk and slipping into your bed is the simplest thing
I can do it with my eyes closed
My lips find your lips in the dark and your hands can find my hips without looking
It's easy
But it's those quiet moments
It's when I can't see you in the dark
I can only trace the outlines of your skin and bones, letting my fingers dip across your skin until goosebumps rise and you crush
Ramblings of a Drunken Whore by issylyss, literature
Literature
Ramblings of a Drunken Whore
And my lips tingle and sting
So I bite them
Gnaw
Until they blister and bleed
My skin is just the way I like it
Enough to stay warm
Enough to let the breeze brush over
Raise goosebumps
You give me goosebumps
The way you kiss my neck
From behind
Like a secret
Sometimes I feel like your secret
Perhaps I'm just a ghost though
Fading
Falling
I'm bruised in awkward places
Skin green and yellow and blue
Blue eyes
You say I have pretty blue eyes
Baby blue eyes
You call me your baby
Innocent
My shoes know better
My hands know better
So you kiss me to make it better
To make me forget
To make me quiet
And I let you
Because