Hopeless Romantic

I write a lot of poetry. Feel free to send me prompts

[writingtostopthenoise]

On Painful Goodbyes

A sparrow traveled

over sweeping hills and trees

through darkness

through wind

and sleet

and rain

to see her

waves crashing over sharp

and twisting rocks

the foam carrying the small thing to depths

unknown

She sang out with the storm

You should not be here, darling

I cannot love you this way

It could not hear her

over the gulls

and the sailor’s cries

she wept

salted tears that leathered skin

thick black oil

heavy with a lover’s grief

surely you will die

if you stay with me, darling

the sparrow sang

spit

coughed up seaweed and a faint laugh

then die I must

if you release me

I will simply crawl back to you

what better way to show me your love

than to fill me with it?

Sparrow bones

stripped clean from algae and a trembling caress

will sink like a stone

like a deprived fisherman

finally returning home

And in the stormy night

when she wails like a hound

cracks the ships who come to her

pulls the sailor’s down to see

what she’s done to her darling

I will awaken again

over the hills and trees

past the dark

and the wind

and the sleet and rain

and I will begin my crawl

back to her

[writingtostopthenoise]

Sorry If I Show Up Late, My Watch Died Last Week

The Dread is setting in

Like a wine-dark sea crawling back to high tide

Come drown me in that cold hunger

I am just a buoy floating

Warning of impending doom

I am a red flag kind of girl

Mother's turn their children away from me

I am made of train wrecks and car crashes

There no part of me that isn't refurbished

The Dread is setting in

Something's gonna hit me soon

Another fender bender

Come visit me when I am bed ridden

Follow the skid marks in the road

You'll find a fixer upper

It's charming in the right light

I'll be in the backyard

Buried under the sunflowers

No coffin

I prefer to feel the soft damp earth

After it rains

If I hum a little tune

The worms will dance on me

The Dread is setting in

I can feel the cobwebs weighing down my rib cage

It's hard to breathe through all the dust

And smoke

I'll be covered in that soon, too

I'll blend in with the sky

Thick with smoke

The fire's coming closer

I can hear the sirens

The Dread is setting in

I can only write when I think about death

The pen never leaves my hand

Bury me in navy blues

Bury me in midnight blacks

Bury me with a bottle and a lighter

I'd love to make God a drink

Something that burns brighter than your eyes

Something that'll keep me warm at night

I never thought I'd live to see eighteen

Twenty one

Twenty five

I was born with a ten minute parking voucher

My time's always been limited

But I'm great at finding coins for the meter

But

The Dread is setting in

And this laundry mat has an out of order sign

The ice below me cracks

Thin

The tide is reaching towards me

Hungry

Bury me in something comfortable

Something warm

Bury me with my jacket

You know I get cold easily

[writingtostopthenoise]

I'd Send You A Postcard If I Could

I saw a walking corpse today

They paraded you around like a doll

Did they think we'd forgotten the silence 

That followed your half-hearted goodbye?

A heavy weight that laid on us for weeks

And now I feel the ache in my shoulders again

I wander through your space like a museum

Macabre 

But that's how you liked it

Cleaned up to fit a funeral

You always knew how to decorate for an occasion

I'm trying to find remnants of you 

Some sign you're still around

But all I get is this puppet

I can see the strings

Did they bury you in something comfortable?

Do you have a soft pillow?

Do you need another blanket?

I can't reach you

Couldn't then either

And maybe that's the problem

Maybe I'm being self centered

But I feel guilty for how it happened

Screaming at a brick wall 

Knowing you weren't coming back

Now they've painted you up 

Shoved a speaker box down your throat

Like an old pull-string toy

Is it strange that I hope to hear your voice

Through the mechanics and static 

The pre-scripted bullshit

After the initial shock 

Of seeing you used like that

Did they put their hands on you

When you died?

Wept and clung to you until morning? 

Or were they silent?

A tragedy they knew was coming

Not that it makes it any less painful 

Did they know you wouldn't want them to cry?

Do they know what's happened to you now?

Do they know you're a ghost haunting these halls

Do they even know these halls exist?

I have to live with this false idol 

Dancing to the wrong tune

But I hope you're somewhere peaceful

I hope you're not hurting

[writingtostopthenoise]

Smoking on the Roof Thinking About The Self

I once heard suicide described

As an angel flying back to heaven

But I’m no angel 

I’ve forgotten all my prayers

I am filled with sin 

Angels don’t cry like this

Angels don’t hate and fight and fuck like this

I would climb with bloody fingers 

Up to that pearly gate

And God wouldn’t recognize me anymore

I’m not the perfect little baby girl he sent down

Wrapped in bubblegum pinks and a future paved in silence

“You’ll make a fine wife someday, to a fine enough husband”

That cacophony of promised futures trailing behind me as I grew

“You’ll like dresses when you’re older” 

“You’ll wear make up”

“You’ll regret those tattoos” 

“You’ll long for a baby, get pregnant, become a mother” 

Did God know I’d fight so hard against my own borders?

Did he know I would try to dig out every piece of myself by hand?

The blood under my nails never washes out

Red trails in the shower 

I’m trying to find the real me in alcohol and smoke clouds

I’m trying to find divinity in the bodies of others

Part of me wants to take a fatal plunge 

And ask God how much of this is my doing 

And how much is some Plan

How many cruelties in my life were puppeteered by such an unloving hand?

The other part of me is too afraid to ask

Unable to handle the inevitable look of disgust and disappointed

From my Father and the Father

Mirrored looks

They say you can find God in all things

But I mostly see him in the eyes of my parents

Their disdain as I cut my hair

Change my name

Refuse my Self 

And create something new 

Something maybe I can stomach

Maybe if I draw halos on my bathroom mirror

I can pretend I’m still a blushing angel 

And not whatever my families been whispering behind my back

[writingtostopthenoise]

A Hesitant Attempt At Living

I've been sitting in this dark for so long

I'd forgotten what it felt like to sit in the sun

Couldn't remember the shape of myself

But now I'm blinded 

Encompassed by the brilliance of you 

I've been numb for so long

Ice cold

I've forgotten how to move

I can't feel

I can't see

But darling you touched me 

I could cry from the feeling of you

Sparks and the snap-sizzle of firecrackers 

Every fingertip touch sending shock waves through me

I'm starving for you

Aching and craving and praying for you

I've been so numb and now I'm hypersensitive

I want to feel your hands on every inch of me 

I want to drink you in and memorize you

I feel human

I feel excited

I feel so fucking much with you 

My last home was a war zone

Minefield

I can't stand much more of these fucking mind games

A dizzying dance I was never taught

Step, step, turn, and I'm biting back a scream

Rage inside me a simmering molten boil

But with you I can breathe

I can find some mild peace

I can think again 

I could rip myself apart with wanting to love you

Burn the entire city to the ground with need

Instead I'm going broke tossing coins in wishing wells

Hoping

Pleading

My heart is trying to claw its way out of the ash pile

And yet I can't seem to move when you're near me 

Can you hear the things I'm choking on?

Can you see the things I see when I look at you?

Play fighting without the teeth and blood

Kisses without venom

A home full of love

So much love I might burst

I'm drunk on my own delusions

And the whiskey I've filling all the empty parts of myself with

Am I drinking to forget?

Or to remember how to feel? 

I used to think this nothingness was all I'd have

An early funeral and lunch right after

Enough time in the day so no one finds it a waste

But now I'm fighting against my borders

Trying to claw myself to solid ground

Even footing to meet you halfway

Please meet me halfway

Please come to me

Please stay with me

Please be gentle with me

I don't know if I can take another blow

[writingtostopthenoise]

If I Lay Here Long Enough I'll Surely Grow Mold

She's numb. Not numb like a limb falling asleep, pin pricks and needling. She's numb like cold stone. Like too-still water. She's numb like a corpse. Cigarette smoke and alcohol just to feel a burn. Even pain is better than the dead emptiness. Especially pain. Hurting yourself is too easy, she turns it into a game. How long can I walk this line before the earth takes me back where I belong? How many faces can I pass by before I disappear? How long have I been this unloveable? She wants to know where it all went wrong. Where did 'I love you's' begin to sound like a threat? When did joy become an unfamiliar concept? She wraps herself in leather and silence. Ash and sleepless nights. She wants to crash her car. She wants to skip this town. She wants to feel a gentle hand, a loving touch, from the body in her bed. She wants to drink and drink and drink until she feels sick, because pain is better than the nothingness. Pain is better than all of this. Ceramic against the wall, hate echoing through the house. Through her ribs. She can feel it when she walks. She can't leave the monster that lives in her house. This is all just a part of her now. The screaming and crying and turning every moment into a fucking dance she doesn't know the steps too. Another cut, another lie, another day she thinks she might just die. But what's the use? She can't leave this. It's all she's known. Pain is better than nothing. She longs, though. She aches. She steels herself to a life of wasting away, but at night she dreams of softness. She dreams of smiling. She dreams of laughing. She can't remember what her laugh sounds like. She wants to learn again. But pain is all she'll get, if she stays here. Pain is better than nothing.

[writingtostopthenoise]

Untitled 3

He knows what this is. Read it in a book once. You'll never make him say it. He's nothing more than a drifter. A shadow. A timebomb. He can feel the shrapnel in his gut. Hears the metal clinking when he walks. He knows what this feels like. Half a bottle deep just to feel normal. Seeing black feathers and rosary beads behind closed eyes. Can't sleep. He wants to run his finger through soft hair. Wants to pretend to be worth a damn, for once. Like maybe he could find a bit of happiness in the ash piles. But what would his family say? He was just a lost cause staring up at divinity. He stopped praying long ago, but he's finding his faith in baby blues and beige. He wants to pray. He wants to say a hundred things that get lost on his tongue. He wants to reach and beg and plead. Ask me. Just ask me to say it. He is a wandering soul, but sharing looks in the car he sees forever. He sees a home. He sees an anchor. Maybe if he let himself drown he'd stop hurting people. He's got a poisonous touch. Watch the sunflowers wither and die. He feels the leaves in his lungs. Still, he wants to say it. He wants to scream it. He wants to be filled with heavenly grace. But this feels worse than dying. This feels like hope and something he can't stop choking on. Tears on his pillow. He knows what this is. Heard it in a song once.  It feels like wanting to live and something similar. Something too pure and clean for filthy hands. There's too much blood. The falling doesn't hurt as much as the rejection. Soul crushing. Bones left on pavement. And what else could he have? He keeps driving. He knows what this is. But he can't seem to say it.

[writingtostopthenoise]

Untitled 2

He tries to be holy. He tries to be graceful. Feels the weight of duty on his shoulders. Picture perfect toy soldier, tries to prove he is divine. He can't help but be faithful, has never known another way. But he dreams. God help him he dreams. He dreams of hazel and whiskey. Long roads and leather and something he can't bring himself to name. He dreams of something he cannot have. He's a thousand miles off the ground, but his heart stays firmly down below. He wants to free fall. Pluck his feathers one by one. His father says he's unlovable. His father says he's unsaveable. At night his cries fall silently. Someone prove Him wrong. He wants to carve out every piece of God from him, let the blood stain his clothes. He hears his name without the weight, it sounds like music. It sounds like a promise. It sounds like forever. He wants forever. He dreams of rebuilding. Of creating himself anew, something worth loving. Something bigger than himself. His voice is trapped behind clenched teeth. Biting till he breaks skin. Hands aching to touch. He finds divinity in his ruin. Finds holiness in between the gore and death and tears. How can he keep himself from falling apart? Stitch himself back together with almost compliments and possibilities of tomorrow. It has to be enough. It has to be enough. He's on a cliff's edge, feels hands on his back. But who's pushing? Who's holding him still?

[writingtostopthenoise]

Graveyard Contemplations

There’s dirt in my mouth. The weight on my chest as I lay cased in soil. When did I bury myself so deep? Somewhere between hello and I love you.

Did we ever really mean it?

Did you ever really mean it?

When you revelled in the feeling of taking control

When you kissed me and told me we’d be like this forever

It stopped being such a sweet sentiment when I began to taste blood

Copper and rust

Cigarettes and alcohol 

I forgot how to be myself

I can’t remember the way my name is supposed to sound, or how to sleep without the nightmares

You’ve got such a hold on me 

If you had your way I fear I’d be a marionette

A toy you can parade around, and touch and kiss and fuck when you want to play

Hidden away in the closet when you’re bored 

I’m only here to give you attention, I’m only here because you want me to be 

Sickly sweet nothing whispered to me in my sleep 

You want to be in my subconscious, you want to take over every inch of me until I’m a shell of the person I’m supposed to be.

My mother used to tell me she was proud

Used to smile when I would visit 

But now she can’t see past the bruises

The fact that I can’t seem to laugh anymore

I don’t mention the shattered plates

The porcelain is still in my gut

And I don’t think the doctors will help me 

Who could help me?

Who could pull me from the grave I’m buried in, 

Push past the mulch and maggots and see something salvageable 

I’m better to be used for crops

Decomposed and given back to the earth

Something went terribly wrong shortly after my birth

And I think it’d be better to start over 

But even that might be too kind. 

Do I deserve this? Maybe so

I can’t stop myself from coming back home, even if home is a minefield wrapped up in quick kisses and the smell of dinner being cooked.

You were never a good cook 

I can still smell the violence over the pasta and bread

I can feel the sting of your hands as I chew

Can you remember how we got like this?

I remember us being happy, or maybe I’m just imagining things

You tell me we’ve always been this volatile

‘That’s just what happens when you love someone so much’

‘Sometimes those feelings get the best of you, and you’re not yourself’.

I don’t know if that’s true, I’ve loved you for a while now and I couldn’t imagine feeling that much hate

Do we need to hate to love?

Do we need to fight to kiss?

Do I need to keep putting up with this shit?

I want to die, I want to stop talking for a week and see if you miss the sound of my voice

I want to walk into a river and let the currents take me out of this life

There’s nothing else to do but dig myself a hole

Ah, that’s how I got here

I remember now, you got caught lip locked with someone less inclined to talk back 

And if I cannot be of use to you what use am I to me?

Soft soil and worms and silence

Can I keep myself here long enough to be forgotten?

The whiskey isn’t keeping me warm, maybe I’ll freeze over before morning comes 

Then you’ll be sorry

Sorry you weren’t the one to kill me

You always looked best in black, my last gift to you.

Keep the receipt 

And make sure my mother knows I’m sorry.

[writingtostopthenoise]

Untitled 1

He didn't have a name for it. But it was eating him alive. The begging, the pleaded, silently screaming tell me. Just tell me. But don't make me ask. And he wants to brush his finger tips against rough knuckles. He wants to say words he doesn't know. He wants to taste skin and something else entirely. But what would Father think? How could he explain this burning in his chest, in his palms, whenever he sees the color hazel? Smells leather and drives too fast? He wants to say a hundred things, and he wants to put a name to this. What is this? He doesn't have a word for it. But it's eating him alive. He's never known how to pray. He's never been prayed to. Only preyed on. This feels a lot like that. Like being ripped apart. Like teeth on his insides. He's chasing sunshine. Knows why Icarus took that final plunge. He looks upon such divine beauty, and wouldn't you? The icy waters are worth the moments of warmth. Small laughters in a dark car sound like music. A hand on his back feels like fire. The breath of his face feels like drowning. How can he survive this? He's never known how to pray. But looking at this smile makes him want to learn. Brings him to his knees. He wants to learn what this is. It feels like dying and something more. Something he might never learn. God help him, he wants to learn. Wants to write a symphony, church bells and hushed whispers and a choir singing a cacophony of an emotion so new that he can't form it with his mouth. If he runs his fingertips over scarred skin, maybe he could read it like braille. But the force of it would surely kill him. He didn't have the heart for it. But it was eating him alive

[writingtostopthenoise]

I bet Your Kiss Tastes Better Than Communion

If I tried to remove every part of me 

That belongs to you, 

There'd be nothing left. 

You've taken over me, 

I feel you on my skin. 

In my lungs

With every beat of my heart,

A symphony of 

I'm yours

I'm yours

I'm yours

Why can't I stop myself from falling? 

I would pay my penance in blood for you 

Live and kill and die for you 

The bliss of you

My heaven

The sharp rocks below my descent

Inevitable

But still I'm free falling

Your smiles the thread

I use to sew myself back together

Lie to me and say you love me too

Pretend I make you feel alive

I play house with you in my head,

And we're perfect

Picturesque, 

It makes my heart ache

Don't mind the cracked porcelain of my soul

I could make you happy

I could try

Sometimes I feel like I'm dying

Sometimes I feel disgusting

Sometimes you feel holy

Forgive me father, 

My existence is a sin

Can I say enough hail marys 

To be worthy of forgiveness?

Can I get a boost into heaven?

Will you sneak me a T-shirt 

When I get locked out?

You make me want to be a preacher

Spread the word of you

A devoted worshipper

But you can't get blood out of white cloth

Red stains every inch of me

I'm all scars, now, 

There's no clean skin left

Forgive me father, for I am sin

I have fallen in love with a man

And he doesn't have the time 

Or heart 

To put up with me.

[writingtostopthenoise]

Stained Glass Love

The sun casts halos

Bright and brilliant 

It illuminates your face

As you look down on me

My back against the grass

I find a holy space

I see an angel 

I feel complete

I used to fidget at church

Discomfort digging into my hips

Or maybe

That was the elastic of my slacks

But now I find a meditative peace

Between the pounding of my heart

And the color of your eyes

I stopped going to church

The dust in my lungs 

And guilt on my chest

But now I find holiness in you

I no longer pray to God

I’ve forgotten how to 

But now I look upon divinity 

And by God, I’d pray to you

I would confess myself 

Pour my blackened soul at your feet

Profess my undying love

My devotion

I would pray to you on my knees

Maybe if this was a church

I’d know where to place my hands

Or how to look you in the eyes

But instead I’m stuck wanting

Yearning

Ever reaching out for you 

Aching to be wrapped in that holy light

Warm

Divine

But for now I’ll pray for you

[writingtostopthenoise]

Insomnia

I have this thing about me

Ancient and consuming

It holds me down at night

Eyes open

Mind racing

Heart heavy

Some call it Insomnia

But I say my minds against me

Subconscious poisons

Creeping in

Seeping in

As I lay my head to rest

Tossing

Turning

Till morning light breaks through

Grey misty glaze hazes over tired eyes

Grant me the Sight

Since I cannot close them at night

Maybe I’ll have visions

Maybe I’ll find secrets

Maybe I’ll see spirits

If I make enough space in between blinks

At night my walls

Teach me to be like them

I’m a poster child prodigy

Lying flat

Still

As they wait for the paint to peel

My ever-open eyes

Seeing the night unfold before me

My mind worrying about illnesses unknown to me

Illnesses known to me

Words unspoken to me

Words spoken to me

Dark circles on pale skin

Like I’m thieving

My mind wrought with thoughts

Like I’m scheming

About things I’ll never do

But I’ll see the world for its truth eventually

If I keep my eyes open

I am the Seeker

If I stare long enough society will show me the darker shades

The world will lay open and honest at my feet

Or maybe I just need to get some fucking sleep

Maybe my subconscious is trying to end me

Made mad by that which it cannot show me

Can’t show me dreams if it cannot catch me

Or maybe it’s trying to test me

See how far it can push me

How long can tired legs carry me?

My records 36 hours

Maybe we can break that record

Sometimes my depression gets to me

Finds me

Laying unmoving

A statue

A silhouette of myself

Sometimes I’m nothing but waves of dread

Crashing over me

And sometimes I’m three shots of whiskey

And I feel like my body fits me better

Because sometimes when I’m sober

I feel off center

My soul doesn’t fit in this sweater

Like a dislocated joint

And I just need to put myself back together

But I forgot how

Long nights eat at my mind

I forget if that happened yesterday

Or when I was nine

Who knows?

Maybe this is all just sleep deprivation

Or maybe I’m just losing my fucking mind.

[writingtostopthenoise]

My Soul Is Damned For Loving You

They say my love is a sin

Kissing you signs my soul to hell

This is my punishment

From God

My tongue

Sore-stained

From tasting you.

He is jealous

He fears me

Because He could never love you

As much as I do.

If He created us all

He unknowingly created me for you.

If Zeus’ fear is true,

You are the other half of me

My rough edges fit against yours

As does my body

When we sleep.

Hera

And Aphrodite

Would shy away from your sight

Apollo blinded

From the radiance that is your soul

They do not know how beautiful you are

They don’t know how sweet your laughter is

If I am to be damned by gods

For loving you

I will greet Hades

And Lucifer

And any other being

Who deems me unworthy

Of loving you.

They’re simply jealous

Because you cast your gaze towards me

Your loving eyes cutting through me

Your gentle kisses pressing to me

And they will never know your love.

It is sweet

And caring

And I may be unworthy in the eyes of gods

But gods be damned if they tried to take you from me.

I would rip the earth itself

And build my way to them

For you

They would be filled

With the fear of man

And all I am capable of

They made me too headstrong

Too passionate

And I fell too deeply

For you

For any of them to be safe

From me

They may punish me all they like

But they cannot deny

How lovely you are

Or how much I love you

[writingtostopthenoise]

You Belong In A Museum

I wish to know you. I wish to familiarize myself with you. I wish for my fingertips to memorize your shape Your form Every curve And dip And crevice. Should I place my palms against clay, I wish them to know exactly where your cheek should rest. Trace my fingers down your neck And know the length of your shoulders. I wish to map out your spine, And remember where my hands should rest When they reach your waist. With each person who owns a piece of my heart, I wish to recreate them from memory Kiss their foreheads And breathe life into them. I wish to close my eyes And know them Even in darkness Even in blindness Even if they are not with me anymore. I wish to hold them in my hands In flesh Or clay And keep them with me Immortalized And safe Hand painted Or sun kissed It would not matter. Because you could not tell the difference. And hopefully Eventually Neither could I.

[writingtostopthenoise]

A Soft, Real Moment In Time

Peace Is a concept I have been mostly unfamiliar with. Calm And warm And quiet Are not words I can easily describe. It would seem you would agree As the words jam behind teeth And clog up throats And leave empty spaces in the air. But here In this bed You have laid your head on me Softly And loving Only seeking to hear my heart Beating Pounding In my chest, Skipping rocks Across my ribcage And I feel the stones settle In my stomach When you leave in the morning. They are small But ever present. Yet now, In this late evening air, You rest gently against me, And it is like my soul was pushed Back into place. Hair falling in your eyes, And lungs filling wonderfully with air I thought of angels And infinite cosmos. I thought of sleeping princess And tired knights. I thought of tomorrows And never agains. For a single moment, And perhaps a moment more, The never-ending tornado That brews in my mind Was still. For a moment, You were the eye of the storm The lovely horizon that stretched out endlessly The gentle clouds drifting lazily The ocean moving in against the shore. For a moment, I knew peace And quiet And warmth in my chest that fluttered And swelled And all but extinguished when you rose, Apologizing for pressing against my chest cavity so hard. But you did not know that cold I felt Like being thrown from a fire into an ice bath It was almost jarring And you did not notice my pause As I recollected myself Wondering if I dreamed that moment. But your smile you gave Promised that I would know it again. Someday.

[writingtostopthenoise]

Hands

Hands It was late And early That lazy time in between moments Yesterday and tomorrow and today Were synonymous. We were tired And playful And friendly And a moment passed. Like lightening Striking an unsuspecting tree, Like glass Falling from shaking fingers, Like a slap Across the face, There were suddenly hands. You were hungry And seeking me Not me Someone A body to press against To touch To feel To draw breath from But I did not wish to be felt Or handled Or coerced I wished you far away I wished I had never came. Hands that grasped at clothing Hands that pinned me down Hands that felt unfamiliar And hard And rough Hands that never felt Gently Or lovingly Or with consent, it seemed. You whispered in my ear That I made you do this This was my fault This was my doing But I wished you away With each shaking breath Drowned by your husky one I wished you away. Pushing against you, As you fought towards me I wished you away. Those hands were hungry And lustful And without proper permission And I threatened And kicked And was weaker And feebler And much less familiar with what was happening What you wanted to happen But somehow In that hour As time slowed in horror You pushed yourself up And pretended like it never happened. Like it was a blissful secret to keep. Like you weren’t fighting to unzip my jeans. Like you weren’t listening to my pleas. Like you weren’t forcing yourself on me. I never returned there And we never spoke of it And we never admitted you were foul That you tried to fill me with that ugly That you tried to take pieces of me And I pushed the thoughts away For years Until they came back Like a disease And I had to admit that I was almost raped Almost molested Again But I wasn’t So why talk about it?