i refuse to apologize for welcoming your mistakes into my home
i refuse to apologize for intercepting your calls to God at 3:37 am. my tired eyes begging my tired fingers not to put my tired ears through such agony. but the number was yours. and i was there for you.
i refuse to apologize for the hours i spent hot gluing your sanity back together. because when you were not strong enough to face the pieces, i would. no matter how many times i cut my fingers on your edges, i would.
i refuse to apologize for the reminders and the alarms and the sticky notes i have plastered inside my head to remind you to take your meds. the copious amounts of reassures ive laced into our conversations that you deserve happiness. you deserve peace. you deserve to feel okay.
i refuse to apologize for swaddling you in blankets of forgiveness when you took your bad days out on me.
i refuse to apologize for lending you my shoulder. burying my own sorrows so deeply within myself, that my sleeves were preserved for your own feelings ware. and
i am forever sorry that i trusted you to do the same.
i anticipated fingers locking around my wrist. forcefully dragging my lifeless body to the basement of unwelcoming home. but he didn’t. instead he swallowed my hands with his own. traced my skeleton with melancholy kisses. wrapped my entirety up in words that made me release the grasp i have been maintaining on the hatred for myself. i thanked god for the past lives that had led me to such fullness. when he took off running i trailed behind. i promised that i would never let go of his hand. he stops at the base of a bridge. the bitter chill of nighttime dances across my flesh, as i follow him over the barriers that separate those who manage their sanity, and those who do not. “do you trust me?” rationality sits at the tip of my spine, she shakes my head no. he smiled as his fingers wrapped around my wrist. he smiled as drug my lifeless body into the river of his own sadness.
her burn is unimaginable. a sharp pain so gruesome that i wonder why i couldnt stop smiling. inviting. invigorating. intense. i feel at peace, knowing that i will die in her grasps. but again rationality acts like the jaws of life, freeing me from the crushing salvation of my own tomb. nevertheless, black tar sticks to my skin. wedged into delicate places and draped across the obvious canvas of my entirety. i cannot stand the feeling. i bathe in bleach. i bathe in vodka. i bathe in tears. i bathe in blood. but nothing can wash away the scars she left on my body. i wish theyd stop staring at me.
anxiety and hatred sit besides me while i wait for my name to be called. every time i lift the cigarette to my lips i bridge the gap between hypothetical and harmful. i think its better than a gun. but anxiety pulls a trigger of his own, leading my mind splattered into a frenzy of uncertainty. i ask him to leave. hatred follows me inside. closes the door behind us. exhausted. she tucks my hair behind my ears and holds my head still in front of the mirror. i watch as disgust drips from the corners of my eyes and runs down my cheeks, finally to puddle itself into a knot in my stomach. nothing can describe the sickness that overcomes me when i realize that i don’t want to be me anymore. i ask them to stay. im so tired of being alone. while the anesthesia rocks rationality to sleep, they whisper in my ears.
the fountains are running. water is pacing. splashing. racing. swirling around my head as i pick apart every interaction i had with him. i wonder what drove him from smothering my hands to smothering my soul. i wonder why i spend so much time alone. i wonder why i break myself to pick up the pieces of everyone elses broken heart, before i pick up my own. i wonder why everyone i trust to put me back together destroys me in the end. i wonder why i do this to myself. my rational aches. i toss my coin in after i realize the simplicity of the situation. everything is my fault.
i envy the quarters opportunity to drowned in the fountain.
i have often thought
of the person i would be
if i didnt resonate such passionate hate
for the person that i am.
**We had to write this type of poem for my english class, about and exhibit in a museum! I chose to write about the “Bee Tree.” Really my first attempt at using this kind of stanza structure. Hope yall like it. Love you, happy Wednesday**
Black. Like the earth smothered
by nighttime. A never ending
infinity of wide open sky. But the heavens cant
be reached without the air stealing my breath.
Yellow. Like the marriage between
the rich sunlight and my primal need
keeping the flowers alive. But, still, they would
be nothing with out the rain.
Queen. Cloaked in warmth and dignity.
The love between us as beautiful and
pure as the honey drizzling down my jar.
Here she left me,
Alone. This hive is crowded,
the constant hums altering the
natural rhythm of my own broken heart.
I don’t know who I am without her.
Flowers. I nursed my infatuation for
you. Allowed it to blossom, cradled in
tightly. Close to my heart as we melted into one.
Now the flowers are dead.
Buzzing. Monotone screams,
reminding me this is home.
Drowning in the cries of mirror images
of things I no longer want to be.
Open. This space is overwhelmed
by freedom. However the constraints of
the ghost of my infatuation keep
me coming home.
Fly. She is no longer my home. I just want
this humming to stop. Buzzing to stop.
Heartbreak to stop. This hive has nothing
more to offer me. I think that its time for me to fly.
breath on my neck humbling the tremors in my hands. gliding. like butter. her hands wrapped around my hands wrapped around sweet ecstasy. i cant describe it. indulging in such delicacies. the rush of excitement of driving at three am. closing your eyes and pushing the pedals down; she leaves it up to chance. while the sadness drips from my veins she holds me, rocks me. hushes me. i can feel her tears burn into my cheeks. why is she sobbing? on tuesday night i tell her that i am done. that i do not want to do this anymore. she smiles-
“its too late.”
ten minutes after the bell she stumbles inside. late. the coffee on her breath muffled by the alcohol seeping from my pores. the dead of night reflecting itself in the circles under her eyes. i am tired. tired of seeing her this way. shes tired. tired of the boys and the booze and the chemistry tests. she spends hours in the library. hours calculating risks, hours analyzing equations, hours reviewing the statistics. seconds in the bar. seconds learning your name, seconds in the back seat, seconds before she whispers-
“show me your dark side.”
i felt the vibrations of her lips melt into yours. i sealed my mouth. please do not say another word. she ripped the clothes from my skin. i do not want to meet any part of you. instead i lay down, watch her eyes. black. i feel your body twitching. your sweat dripping into my skin. again i meet her eyes. glazed over. staring at the ceiling. the thirty seconds you occupy her body she is allowed to leave. three is a crowd. she asks me to wait in the car. stains of humiliation paint her neck, even after the darkness in her eyes disappears. on the drive home i ask her why she lays down with people who make her feel so alone-
“i love it.”
i stopped recognizing her. a strangers touch replacing a warm embrace. visiting a grave; knowing the body that once gave you so much peace is being devoured in the darkest places this universe has to offer. still i fought for her. like a solider defending his country i defended her right to sanity. i told her she was beautiful and intelligent and deserved happiness. but she described hating herself as a type sickness. a cancer that manifest in your brain and illuminates though your smile. she doesn’t seem to care. making no efforts to get better. having a so called love affair with every form of self destruction available to a nineteen year old child. i am lost. im screaming that i don’t know how to help her. bewildered i ask her who she has become-
“you. i am you.”
“certain individuals cannot handle what they have become. they project their discrepancies onto other people, act as though someone else is the reason they do what they do. they create a world where their sadness, emptiness and self loathing doesn’t exist. instead they are meerly a bystander, disassociated from themselves. we can only imagine how detrimental it is when they discover the reality of the situation.”
your whispers danced in my head as the room flooded with sounds of rushing water. promises. words. water. guarantees. validation. water. i picked apart each sentence. evaluated the meaning behind each word, searching for any reason to discredit you. over analyzed. my questions regarding your motives, answered by the clarity flowing from the faucet.
your hands peeled my clothes away. soft palms running along my back, stripping my shirt over my head. leaving my hair to delicately drop across my shoulders. bony fingers dismantled the the locks behind my back, setting my soul free. the same fingers hooked around my sanity and slowly slid it to the ground. my body clothed with nothing more than your eyes.
a single glare caused lumps to form in the pit of my stomach and butterflies to flutter up my throat. as if my body was a cold glass of water presented in front of a man dying of thirst. brown eyes breaking their lock on my body to connect with my own innocent gaze. watching my reaction to your lips pressing against my skin.
steam poured from inside me as your lips familiarized with my body. mthe vibrations of your voice left my mind blank, left my back arched, left my fingers tousled in your curls. the longer your skin married into mine, the harder for me to catch my breath. pink lips decorating my collar bone. my stomach. my thighs. pink lips that coaxed me into the bath you had drawn for us.
submerged in water i waited for you to wrap your arms around me. hold me steady. hold me safely inside the warmth of your wet bare skin. instead i sat confused as you ran my naked body along ribbed boards. erased the clarity from my water with a thick smell of bleach. held my head under suds and rang the life out of my body.
you have to wash your dirty laundry, before you hang it out to dry.
the light reflected the dew forming around your hairline. little rain droplets created from the intensity of your hips grinding against mine. dripping. like the soap bubbles smothering my moms sudan. cleansing. washing the dirt away. i sat behind the driver in silence. powerless. feeling the humming of the machines beating the side of the car. pulsing. allowing the vibrations to finesse their way into my skin. breaking the flesh. i liked the pressure, because it was
i slid my fingers along the ridges of your body. never in my life have my hands felt so full. the groves of my finger tips melting into the follicles that covered your entirety. warmth. the cold air that rushed across my bare skin was nothing compared to the warmth of your breath. lust is explainable. like dancing in warm snow flakes. my mother always told me that when you played in the cold too long, one would eventually get
parts of my body did not belong to me anymore. they were yours. i wrapped my lips around your pride and held your ego in my hands, never feeling more powerless. i placed my mouth on yours to stop sweet nothings from spewing past your lips, but instead the richness of your voice reeked havoc inside me. i stopped holding onto you for stability. i reached for you at 3pm when the weight of the world fell onto my shoulders. falling into an unexpected
i felt your presence move further and further up from my hips. eventually all birds fly home after the winter. my heart could not stay frozen forever. i looked the other way when you etched your name into the ice. i could no longer control my mind from going blank when you danced inside me. i felt your eyes graze across my body. exposed. i felt your heart race when you slide your hands up back. satisfied. i felt your breath grow heavy when your eyes locked to mine. bliss. i felt the sincerity in your voice when you asked me to
like a timid animal i crawled into your arms. slept soundly. peacefully. calmed by the notion that the seeds growing inside me were sewed by you. i found a home next to you, swaddled by your ideas and saturated in your world. you spent less time with my hands in your hair and more wrapped around my finger. but people don’t change. now that i know her name i don’t want to know yours anymore. however starry eyed i allowed you to sign the most intimate places of me months ago. when you call my name i cant fight the instinct to come running. i think ive made a