devil eyes

Fingers in my mouth,
and hand wrapped around my chin.
She had the eyes of a devil
and I was ready to make my sins.


tar in my lungs

I write these verses faster than you spit curses, and I could make you feel pain more than your fists ever could. You’ve left a nasty taste in my mouth, one that even the sweetest poetry couldn’t clear out. You are the tar in my lungs from these cigarettes that I smoke. You’re like the underlying problems that nobody really wants to talk about. So I don’t talk about it, instead I fill my chest with poison and spill it on these pages. Knowing soon enough my lungs will grow black and someone will know what I’ve kept inside for ages.


trying to find a reason to live in empty bottles, that maybe after my fourth or fifth I’ll find hope at the bottom. I’m on my sixth but I don’t care to keep count anymore.

for I’ve found more hope in the bottom of empty wishing wells than I’ve managed to find in the deepest corners of my mind.

 Im tired of tearing my mind apart in hopes of removing the memories you’ve left in me, for they’ve become ingrained in every part of me.

my skin crawls like when you were next to me. Something no shower can remove, no matter how many I take. It always feels like there’s a layer I cannot remove, one that can be temporarily hidden under the blood I’ve bled.

instead I pour alcohol down my throat, not that I want to drink.. but in hopes I’ll feel it cleanse me from the inside out

just for one night .. 


The numbing of my knuckles as they come in contact over and over with the tiles wet from the shower I’m using to try to feel clean again.

Somehow I still feel their hands on me. Fingerprints left like stains, they feel like a birthmark I wish I was never born with but I was never born with it.

Instead I was branded.

They were not something you could wash away, skin deep. I’ve tried to dig them out, believe me 
I tried.

My body is my home and I never invited them in. They threw a welcome party, one that costed me the cleanliness of my own skin.

scars and prescription bottles 

I sit in skin that doesn’t feel my own, it’s a detailed map of each hand they’ve laid upon me.

This is the scar from that 8th grade boy.

This is the mark from when I thought I was unstoppable, glass was my kryptonite.

See? This is the scar from that one time.

You know the time I tried to run in front of a car because I thought that if it hit me I wouldn’t have to go back to see her.

The scar isn’t actually from the car or from tripping over the curb, it’s from that glass she threw at me when she found out I tried to kill myself.

All I remember are the bruises she created and the feeling of his grips on my wrists, nothing more than a cage I can’t escape from.

Why didn’t they tell me that you can’t escape your problems if they’re within, but they did.

They did.
I just didn’t want to listen.

I don’t want to listen, but I can no longer ignore the scream of my own voice.

I no longer recognize the face in the mirror. Almost as if I don’t want to know me, why would I?

That would mean remembering the touch of strangers on my skin, and that feeling has become far too familiar. 

I wish I was as good at refilling my happiness as I am at refilling prescriptions bottles.

My body feels more like a pharmacy, not a home but more like hell. I don’t feel like me anyway, so it’s all worth a shot – 

at least I know it’ll numb me.
and that’s better than not being me. 

3am thoughts of you

I wish I had the courage to ask you out on a date.

I sit here, nearly 3am and all I can think of is your warm smile and gentle eyes. Wanting to have your head against my chest, body wrapped in mine.

I know you’ll not agree as your life is too busy. Just once, I want to relieve you of the commotion you deal with daily.

It’s not possible, but if I could beat impossibility – it would be for you. 

You’re so deserving of a break in chaos, even if you may disagree. I see you differently. Perhaps it’s the glow of attraction that’s been sugarcoating your flaws.

Maybe it’s that I’ve finally seen past your tough exterior, to the gentle soul behind tough words and anger.

It’s a flaw of mine that I’ve always searched for the good in people. Yet this flaw has allowed me to experience such happiness, in the strangest forms.

You grant me happiness, even with the way you’re never here.. I appreciate your honesty.

And I want to return the favour.
I want to show you that someone cares, selflessly. 

And that person, is me.

eyes as deep as space

No star in the night sky could compare
to the lights that lit up in the
beautiful eyes upon her face.

I’ve gotten lost so often you’d think
they were as vast as space, in some ways..
they are.

For they carry the truth within her heart, the words she dare not say aloud.

They’ve become my home and cage,
all in one. A place I feel safe in,
yet one I can’t escape.

Finding my way back to you is like walking through the many corridors
of a maze, frustrating
and in some ways infuriating.

Though the challenge presented
in front of me is one I cannot pass on.
For I hope, at the end of it all ..
I will have you in my arms again.

Something I’ve grown fond of, and something I not dare leave behind.

she was the masterpiece I wish I saw that night 


With the taste of champagne on my lips
I stared at oil painted portraits
and friendly faces
I had asked you to accompany me
However, art doesn’t excite you

We may not share this passion
But I wish instead of seeing strangers
drinking wine
That I could explain my interpretations
with your hand in mine

For your beautiful face made each painting dull in comparison
I wish to see the low lights
Flicker in your glistening eyes
for I’d get lost in them a thousand times
There is no masterpiece to me
other than the love I’ve painted across
my canvas of a heart

Though you are not here
And you are not mine
Maybe we’ll meet here, my love
Another time