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That Raggedy Little Girl.

Sitting in the faintly lit room.

Fluorescent light, covered in yellow plastic, is too familiar. You’re asking the same questions she went through.Putting me back through her emotions.

Again. The raggedy little girl with acne scars,clown makeup and clothes far too baggy for her little body. The one with an already broken, breaking, heart. The one rotting from the inside out. You are putting me in a stressful situation and are still acting as though I’m that raggedy little girl; the one with stomach problems caused by malnourishment and worry-the one who cries when yelled at. That one.

The one I used to be.

The one still healing inside me.

So I’m sorry if I’m speaking to fast or loud.

She feels like your yelling; so I’m sorry if she’s crying. The tears streaming down my face are just hers.

That raggedy little girl.

#childhood trauma #self h@rm #mental health #original poem

vermillion river

it was a sad lonely road.

on a cold winter night.

only very faint dim lighting in the distance.

only other lighting was the other sad lonely cars.

it wasn’t necessarily sad, but empty.

it felt like it stretched for miles.

there’s a barn in the dark by vermillion river.

#short poetry #short poem #poem and poetry #sad poem

His fingerprint.

i like to think that some people are crafted by angels, and that some people were crafted with Gods own hands. it doesn’t make you less or more. just different. more specific than specific.

i used to look at you before we’d kiss-look deep into your eyes and see his tears. stare at your skin and see his fingerprints. his nails.

but if god crafted you, he did it as a lesson.

a lesson, i hope someday you see for yourself.

#ex boyfriend #poetry #god

Last night was the night.

And man, I feel dumb. Cause all I felt was numb. Seeing you again, was like…nothing. I felt nothing. But not in a dramatic denying my emotions typa way. Just, naturally. The light didn’t bounce off your eyes the way I thought it would. Your eyes really aren’t that blue. Your hair looks the same as it did before everything happened. Your nose is still dumb- so are your ears. You laughed your fake laugh. You smiled your fake smile. And I finally realized, everything you do is fake. Everything. There was never any real difference between your real and fake smile. Your real and fake laugh. You are the fluorescent light covered in yellow plastic. I was the fool who moped over a dollar tree candle light. But I’m not anymore. I felt nothing when we made eye contact. The only time I cried was when reuniting with my friends. So I guess it was the end. I imagined it to be more like a breeze flowing through and out my skin, but not in a fast car ride smashing into my face and screaming throughout my hair. It was neither. It was like everything you ever showed me, said to me, or put in my mind just disappeared. So here it is, I don’t love you anymore. Really, this time. I’m over it.

You.

#healing #original poem #ex boyfriend

A biological urge

(Baby’s Breath)

I used to think I never wanted kids- didn’t ever imagine it as part of my journey on earth. A few nights ago I dreamed I fell in love with someone (who didn’t love me as much back & was unpredictable about when he’d be around);had unprotected sex & found out after 4 weeks that I was pregnant.

You can’t leave me this time I said.

I went through with the pregnancy and he was beautiful. We raised him and I continued with my schooling-my life. & then I woke up. It was weird. I’ve never wanted any kids. But I also tend to treat people like a mom. I love giving advice. I love loving. But I’ve always been left.

You can’t leave me this time I said.

So maybe this sudden biological urge to reproduce is just me missing my ability to love or be loved. I always fall for immature boys.

Or maybe my periods just due.

I’m only a freshman anyway.

#teen wh0re #menstruation #hormones #ex boyfriend #original poem

The Ties

So I finally cut the string, our string. The string of connection between life and death. The only problem is, I didn’t want to die. At least not as much as you. I promised you love and that I’d stay.- You only alluded to the two and left me broken hearted- the grim reaper. However, I survived, pulled myself up and at least tried to move on, but not because of you. Not for you, but for me. You, however could not let go of the past and have continued vigorously to sneak the memory of your name into my mind. I am the living, you are the dead. You want me to remember you, because I am the only one who truly knew you. But having death on my back feeding from my energy, eating me alive until it inevitably would’ve taken me too- was just not my plan.

So I cut the string between life and death…again, hoping death would come for me once more.

#poetry #heartbreak #ex boyfriend #manipulation #love #poems on tumblr

Old Wet Dreams

the problem with being over it, but not having anyone new is deciding topic of mastrubation.

self pleasure.

it’s even worse when you’re young and less experienced.

sometimes i’ll imagine us, fucking infront of a mirror- me bent over the sink while he inserts from the back.

it pleases me almost to my orgasm.

and then i think about how draining he was.

how fucking horribly he treated me.

a bloodsucking, life drainer.

best part is, we never even had sex.

we only did the foreplay of it.

thoughts creep in and i can almost see myself staring from the reflection of the mirror.

looking at this cheap pornographic version of us and realize we weren’t even close to the romantic, intimate version of that.

he promised we’d be.

i can never imagine me on his bed, or him on mine.

only outside, or in a bathroom.

the problem with old wet dreams- is they are old and make my pussy dry and my eyes wet.

i’m addicted to the oxytocin. the serotonin.

#seretonin #sex poetry #sex poem #poetry #venting #manipulation #ex boyfriend

pinterest quote I saw

every saint has a past. every sinner has a future.

#pinterest #quotes #god

virtualinsect

lizzygrantt1uvr

queue sad girl by ldr

The Ties/What I need

So I finally cut the string, our string. The string of connection between life and death. The only problem is, I didn’t want to die. At least not as much as you. I promised you love and that I’d stay.- You only alluded to the two and left me broken hearted- the grim reaper. However, I survived, pulled myself up and at least tried to move on, but not because of you. Not for you, but for me. You, however could not let go of the past and have continued vigorously to sneak the memory of your name into my mind. I am the living, you are the dead. You want me to remember you, because I am the only one who truly knew you. But having death on my back feeding from my energy, eating me alive until it inevitably would’ve taken me too- was just not my plan.

So I cut the string between life and death…again, hoping death would come for me once more.

What do you think you need?

What I need is fresh air. Fresh memorable air. But not in a fast car ride smashing into my face and screaming throughout my hair. A calm breeze. I need a memorable face to talk to. Someone who truly understands me and actually knows what to say. I need the cracks that collectively make the gaping hole in my heart to heal so the pain can stop flowing throughout my blood.I need calm noise. Not no noise. Not so much noise that it’s as if everyone on earth screamed at once. Just calm noise. Like brown noise. I need my acne to clear up and my hair to never produce oil again. I need certain people to completely leave my life and some to come back. I need to stop constantly feeling & thinking. I need to feel out my emotions more and think about things better. I need to be recognized. I am doing what very few of my peers can/ choose. I need progress. And I need it now.

I need promised stability.

But promises are never kept.