anisa

20s, female "weaving words my lips cant afford to speak..."

[withloveanisa]

Autopsy

party hats and a cake with candles.

blow out the light; watch the smoke curdle.

every year they gather around the table,

smiling, unaware that they're attending a funeral.

​we do not count the years here,

we count the cadavers.

​eight was the child who swallowed her own blood’s poison,

and called the silence her own fault.

thirteen was the daughter who folded herself small,

and brought her dreams to a halt.

​sixteen was the poet who thought every wound

was an achievement if it bloomed in verse.

eighteen was the friend who mistook need for love—

and learned how fast a heart could become a hearse.

twenty was the lover, believing waiting was devotion,

watching time only make it worse.

​i carry coffins in my ribs of all the girls I survived.

birthdays are no longer a celebration—

just proof that another death has arrived.

they say, we grow older but I've become a cemetery,

another year, another headstone, another name, lost in memory,

i am one,

but there are a hundred versions of me,

buried beneath the years.

tomorrow, they'll bring another cake.

i'll smile.

i'll make a wish.

i'll blow out the candles.

and somewhere in the smoke,

another girl

will learn how to die.

suggested song for this one is 'making the bed' by Olivia Rodrigo, her songs are literally my vibe

[withloveanisa]

Crimson

You hand me a knife and tell me your favorite color is red,

So I trace the quiet edge, echoing the words you said.

You call it just a joke, but the laughter leaves a stain,

And now the mirror shows a shadow broken by the pain.

​You claim you’re being honest as the steel bites through the skin,

While I choke back every tear I swore I’d keep buried within.

They say that love is meant to hurt, so I accept the scars,

Trapped beneath the heavy weight of who we used to be, and are.

​You whisper if I loved you, I would understand the art,

Of bleeding out my dignity to satisfy your heart.

My hands begin to tremble, far too weak to hold the blade,

Drowning in the promises that you so carelessly made.

​Look at me, my darling, see the damage that you’ve done,

I painted myself in crimson to be your favorite, yet I’m the only one

Who’s left here on the ground to bleed, clutching at the floor—

If this is what you call your love, I cannot take much more.

i like to set the tone of my poems through songs and for this one, it is the one below

[withloveanisa]

I loved you like the last cigarette,

with trembling hands and the promise to quit after this one.

And when you turned to ash,

I crushed what was left of us beneath my heel,

pretending it didn’t still linger in my lungs...

the muse behind this one was this song

[withloveanisa]

Dolorosa

And isolation calls upon me like the sea calls upon the sailors, or maybe even a little bit like the dead bodies-pale, swollen, yet so free.

It lingered first as silence, then wrapped around my spine like a new bone structure, a new truth.

Like ointment, it ran through my veins, engulfing my mind and soul while it kissed my wounds the sweetest,

"I see. I understand. I know."

And I know its hazards,

it might pull me too deep in the water and whisper "breathe, with the intention of only suffocating me.

And still, I sink willingly.

Not out of despair, but because here, in this hush,

no one demands a reason for my silence.

No one flinches at the weight of my thoughts.

It holds me not like a lover, not like a cage, but like earth around a seed.

I am buried, yes, but I am not lost.

This is the only place my sorrow isn't questioned, where my ache isn't trimmed down to make room for someone else's comfort.

Here, I am allowed to be whole, even if that whole is hollow.

suggested song for this piece is 'Salvatore' by Lana Del Rey

[withloveanisa]

Aporia

And I wonder if your eyes could hypnotize, if that’s the way you kept him by your side,

if every glance of yours could paralyze the parts of him that never stay with mine.

Or was it your touch—something I could never replicate or revise, captivating enough to make him feel alive?

Did he memorize the way you used to smile, did he emphasize each word you’d let him find,

did he organize his whole world just to try to be the man you never had to guide?

I'm not jealous, I just want to realize, what was in you that he couldn't deny?

How could you simply walk inside and become the pulse of all his life?

Tell me, was your love that easy to prioritize, something he held with both hands tight? Because no matter how I compromise, I never seem to make him choose my side.

I study myself through fractured eyes, searching for what I failed to provide.

A prettier smile? A sharper mind? Some missing spark I’ve yet to find?

and then i get so close to giving up, to letting every fragile piece depart,

but then he kisses me just softly enough to make me mistake comfort for his heart.

suggested song for this poem is 'Lacy' by olivia Rodrigo cause why not

[withloveanisa]

The Prisoner and The Chain

there i sit, knees tucked, head held between

shivering as the void gnaws, cold and lean

where do I go, where do I flee?

why is it that they cannot see me?

i'm pretty and not pale

in my head, i've built this jail,

the prisoners scream, sometimes they cry,

familiar shadows—silhouettes of mine.

they all crave escape, they dream of the other side

bound to smoke chains, where freedom is denied

with time, they fade to nothing, no trace—

a breath would be enough to erase

but then—

their grip grows sudden and tight,

clutching my throat and stealing the light

i can't breathe, it's all turning black

and there’s a reflection staring back:

the truth is a weight i cannot sustain—

i am the prisoner, and i am the chain.

suggested song for this one is 'How it feels' by ZAYN