WHO AM I ANYMORE

She was rose petals, and frilly skirts. Blonde hair and curls, always perfectly placed. She’d drink bubbly teas and ask strangers what their names were. I remember how bright the days were then, always seemed more vibrant than the past. Though these days never did quite seem to last.

She’d fade to this mellow gal, wearing overalls and had buttercups in her hair. Sometimes it was blue, others red, I think at one point it was even hot pink? She changed it so often I’ve lost track. Always smelt of fresh leaves and tea tree oil. I think she was forgetting to take care of herself. You could see the glossiness in her eyes, something wasn’t right but you couldn’t pinpoint just what. She’d hide it well through this ‘healthy’ thing she decided to take up. You know, green tea and yoga on fresh cut grass in the summer breeze. A charade that she truly believed.

Slowly, she’d forget. At first it was the occasional ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’, but tomorrow never quite came because each day would be the same. She switched her high waisted skirts and crop top tees for band shirts and ripped jeans. Her colourful hair was outgrown roots, tied up in messy buns. Not quite so bright, but nevertheless fun. But then.. came the drinking.

One night turned into two. And two turned into a week binge, having to be carried home by the club bouncer because she couldn’t do it on her own. She started asking strangers what their names were again, but this time for different reasons. She seemed to be missing something, herself maybe. That glossiness in her eyes was now a vacant grey and those grown out colours were switched to jet black hair, pierced her nose but swore she was okay. Tea was now whiskey at the bar where you could find the local punk bands play. Doing cocaine in bathrooms with boys she just met who she swears she was friends with. She was fun in a different kind of way. She was dangerous, a hollow shell trying to fill the void by any means possible.

The void slowly began to grow. She stopped going out to drink, but instead did it alone. Drank in dark rooms and wrote about how she used to be. It wasn’t too long ago but it’s hard to think that that was her. Instead now memories haunt her of her dark past and she realized that each part of her was trying to run away. And each time the memory of their hands on her, she would split into the next girl. Each time draining her to the point where she’d forget who she was before it began. And now she’s realized she’s ran all she can.

So she sits there, mind muddled between each of the girls she’s created and the nothingness that’s been slowly eating away at her mind. She doesn’t remember how she got here.

And I can’t believe that she’s me.

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2:16am again

I can’t stop crying and it’s not like a tear now and then. It won’t stop and I can’t stop, I don’t want to. I just feel so lonely, and not a lonely that I’m used to. I kept tell myself and others that you need to be okay on your own but I’m at the point where I’m always alone. I drive people away. I don’t have anybody. I keep thinking I have you but I’m not even sure I do anymore.

I think I’ve made up this delusion that you still care and are in my life, because without that I’d truly have nobody. I’ve opened up to you and I’m so scared that you’re closed off because that would cause everything to fall apart. We don’t even talk, and you’re not even there when I call half the time. Probably more than half the time.

But I think I would go crazy to know you’re actually gone. Though I also want to know if you are so I can hide away from everyone. Without worrying if I’m leaving anyone behind. I’m just.. I don’t even know anymore. I’m nothing.

I don’t want to exist, in some ways I feel like I don’t. How that is, I’m not quite sure. I mean I’m here but not you know?

I know you must get tired of my late night texts/calls, but if you’re up please answer. You’re the only person I have that I actually talk to and I’m just feeling.. I don’t even know..

like a fish on a line

Now I wonder if your “I miss you” was just a whiskey-fuelled way to keep me around. I’m tired of being that late night call, knowing you smell of cheap booze and cigarettes while I lay in bed wrapped in your t-shirt. You feed me sweet words and empty promises that I know have no substance but it keeps me going. I feed off of your distance, it keeps me grounded. You’ve become my centre, and I’m left wandering aimlessly as pieces, hoping you’ll bring me back together. I’m tired of leaving messages that go unanswered, of being nothing to you until you’re satisfied with where we stand. Reeling me back in like a fish on a line, with no intentions of unleashing the hook you’ve pierced through my lip. And I haven’t realized the damage it’s done because each time it rips, you kiss it better. I don’t know any better. And you know that.

What will it take? Until you tear me apart?

voicemail

Dialling your number with a sigh of regret, knowing there will be no answer. There never really is. While I’m laying in the dark, you’re swallowing down vodka and probably kissing a strange girl’s lips. I just need you right now, that’s all that this is. I just needed your voice, I just feel so low. I’m okay with just the bar noise or even if it’s only a “hello?”

lately, I only hear your voicemail recording

beer reminds me of her

I taste beer off of strangers tongues, reminds me of when our lips met on your fathers deck. The smell always made me sick but how I wish I could have one more chance to run my hand around your neck. To hold you on a couch that’s just small enough for two, and how scared I was of falling in love but you made it easy to.

Oh how I wish there was still something between me and you

don’t 

Don’t leave. I’m so used to people leaving, and believing their soft spoken lies saying they’ll always be by my side.

I believed yours, yet you’ve proven time again that you’re no better than them. Your mouth forms pretty lies that you’re able to hide behind.

You didn’t want to hurt me, what a fucking lie. If you didn’t want to hurt me, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. But you, did time after time.

Don’t leave, please. I know you said not to worry but I do, I do. Now I know it was for good reason, the words you said were never true.

For you left, you left, you left…

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.

time

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