Beloved Hands Don’t Always Love

i. My mothers hands never had a soft land on the skin across my cheek. Always rough side, knuckle bared swipe leaving me with the realization I could never do right. Could always do better, be better, be nothing like anything. Just say what she thought and do as she does and I could walk away with less bruises this time.

ii. That’s why when his rough hands took fistfuls of hair I grit my teeth, I did not swear. He always said, I could be like her. He wanted me to be like her. Just do as he says, and say what he needs and I would leave with less cuts on my knees.

iii. Yet her.. her hands seemed soft and safe, unlike past skin – against mine did not chafe. Though soft hands proved strong grips, with nails like claws – skin rips. She always said it was my fault. So I do as she says, repeat words that pass her lips in hopes that maybe this time she’ll loosen grips.

I learned to trust no hands, not even my own. As the most damage dealt was done alone.



We’ve walked the dark sides
of each other’s minds
and came out with cobwebs.
Shed blood through our
blade wielded words.
Which left stains
in form of memories
that are only reminders
of the pain we’ve caused.
You taught me how to
spit venom when I talk
And I showed you that
there’s power behind
syllables and rhyme.

In the end,
I was less vulnerable
and you learned to speak your mind.

The only thing I wish we had..
was a little bit more time

shitty heartfelt rambles via text 

she had left me with nothing more than a 
t-shirt and shitty heartfelt rambles via text. nothing to remember her by other than the burning taste of whiskey and cigarettes. I switched to the brand she buys so maybe the scent of stale smoke would help it feel like she was still there. the taste is something I can’t stand but it’s no worse than the taste of loneliness she left me with. I can’t stand the smell of whiskey but each drink reminds me of those drunken nights we spent together. always ended up in her bed, but gone before noon. neither of us would say anything as we wouldn’t see each other soon. she got sick of me. she told me she wouldn’t but they always do. empty words spoken through believable lips. each phrase feels like poison in my veins, yet I keep rereading them. for pain is all she left me with, and my lungs can hardly breathe. at least this way I’ll remember her, and have some sort of relief. maybe it was less about love and more about aggression. all I know is this came with no lesson. left with hatred and a hollow heart where her name used to be. now filled with a false sense of security due to my whiskey filled delusions, about how now I’m set free. as hard as I try, no degree of intoxication could convince me that I’m fine.

after all, it was my fault. you were never even mine.

she was always my type 

When we met, I was warned
Yet you weren’t my type so I took that warning lightly
You weren’t my type,
yet I’ve held on tightly
When you walked away the first time,
I repeated,

You’re not my type

Thinking that I’d be able to let this go, without a fight
But you were right
You’ll fall in love with me,
you said that night
You were right

Now all I think of is the way your eyes danced in the light
How I tried to hurt you due to spite
The times I tried to cause a fight
In hopes instead of walking away
You’d ask me this time just to stay

You were right
You were right
And now I try to keep my love at bay
For you didn’t stay
And I’m left feeling as though
my heart’s astray

it was never real.. was it

The memory of you is a soft yellow hue, meaning somewhere in the pain and suffering you’ve brought comfort. Unfortunately, the yellow has been burning blue. Like the flame in my chest that has always been for you, too hot to touch but that’s something I knew. 

I knew you would go, I knew it too well. That’s something I learned long before I fell. Falling for you was like a soft landing view on the pillows of your bed when I held onto you. I desperately want to create more memories with you, but you’re gone.

You’re gone, you’re gone. 

Almost as though repeating it will drive the thought through my head. Yet I always set myself up with hope and am met with disappointment when I’m left with the realization that I’m always alone. I’ve always been alone. You’re something I’ve conjured up in hopes of being real..

When the only thing that’s real about this is how much you’ve made me feel.

it’s been a while

your skin smells of familiarity

a sense of safety returns as I reach my hand across and wrap around you as your body lays intertwined in bedsheets

as we curl up in the dark, slowly diminishing any space between us, nights of whiskey-filled laughter and sweet-intention-filled kisses seep into my mind

running my hand along your arm, reminding me of those night I would kiss you as you slept

though this time my lips never touched skin

we just lay there, bodies intertwined
we are no longer what we once were
we are no longer those people
you never were mine
but in this moment

I feel your love fill my heart for the last time

fed me to the wolves

You had left me alone with hungry eyes and loose lips that asked my name and grabbed at my hips. All I could notice was that you were no longer there.

Stranded with boys who resembled wolves, begging to scrape skin and tear off my clothes. Claws for hands, knowing the damage they inflict with every grasp. I couldn’t tell minutes from hours for it seemed like days that had passed.

They bruised my hips as I tried to run. I didn’t know where the old me ended and where the new had begun. I felt strangers hands and tears form. I cried and yet you let me roam.

Begged you to stay but you ran away. I was no longer sweet, for you had found another girl that suited what you craved. You blamed me for the these claw marks.. and told me they were the reason why you hadn’t stayed.

You fed me to the wolves and I was still to blame. 

5 years of hell

We started everything this day,
5 years ago.

Who would think 5 years of memories flood back within seconds.
Infiltrating my mind
Filling in the cracks of my broken
down memories
Mimicking the alcohol filling my glass
Seeping into corners that I
didn’t know existed
Knowing full well that they may never drain

The difference is that I have to keep filling this glass to forget
While nothing seems to make a barrier between these broken memories
Soon enough I’ll have to drain them myself

Another set of scars to add to my collection where you’ve become the main source of reason

I can’t do it, I’m sorry

I crave love.
The thing about cravings
is that I deliberately have taught myself not to self-indulge.

Some twisted form of self-inflicted pain.
When sweet words seep through their lips, I run like a forgotten faucet.
I run until I’ve run out of room, spilled over counters. I ruin anything within my grasp, which is why I avoided you.

I didn’t want to soak your love-filled bedsheets with my ink like words. I didn’t want your memory of me to be a dark stain that you couldn’t get out, no matter how many times you try to scrub it.

I’m tired of being the story behind new bedsheets

which is why I can’t love you,

 I’m sorry


this is it
your letter of resignation
leaving the position you hold in my heart
it feels like a hand wrapped around my throat
the word I never wanted to say
you tell me this won’t be it
I’ll see you again
but you know
and I know
that this is the end
a scream locked in my chest
don’t go
can’t you see these tears are for you
I tried to hold them in
I did
I did
but I don’t want to lose you
but I can’t lose you
but you were never mine

goodbye, my love