Stink of You

These thoughts linger like the stench of death It has embedded itself into my pores
Covering me with its filth
This grotesque madness engulfs me
Rotting me inside out
Flowing through my veins like sewage
Causing the infection to spread
Scavenging around inside my worn down heart
Picking through the best of me
The only salvageable parts that are left
Stuffing them into holes dug with my memories
Filling me to the brim with dirt and death
But I just can’t get the stink of you off of me
 

Memories of you fill my head like smoke
Snuffing out lost hopes and dreams
Swirling around me in a whirlpool of chaos
And when the tear drops start to fall, they drown me
Crashing into my heart like a tidal wave
Rolling me over and under
Over and under
Just a speck of sand in an ever growing abyss of sadness
And just when I think I’ve finally swum to safety
Memories of you drag me back under

image

Everything

You are the sound of my heart beat
And the taste that lingers on my tongue
You are the silence in a crowded room

You are the crack in my voice
And the breath on my bathroom mirror
You are the water that cleanses me

You are the condensation on my window
And the daisy in my front yard
You are the flight in birds

You are the smile on my face
And the hurt in my chest
You are the confusion in my head

You are everything

Unscathed

I walk out of the rubble

The falling dust still stinging my eyes

Ashes mark my face like war paint

My arms comfortably numb

From fighting my way through the wreckage

 

I walk away from the past

From yesterdays anger and sorrow

Bridges I lit up behind me

I watched burn to the ground

So I won’t recross them tomorrow

Old worlds left beneath me crumbling

Memories still aflame

Left to drown in the smoke

 

But…

I walked out of the rubble

Unscathed

The Chill

There is a chill in the air
Riding swiftly on the wind
Breaking through my bones
Slowly cutting through my skin
Beaten on the inside
Bleeding from within
Recalling life forgotten
Dying in these memories again

Little Reminders

Every day I come across memories., little reminders of her. Everything lately reminds me.. Simple things like songs on the radio, and her ceramic angels that line my walls. Even her shirt that hangs in my closet, the one she wore on frannie’s first easter. I don’t have much left of my mother. I don’t have any pictures of her and I together. I don’t have very many actual memories of her. Most of them I’m not even sure are real memories, but I like to think that they are. I recall a lot of bad times growing up and very few good ones. My mom was hardly perfect, far from it actually, but I loved her regardless. Whether I followed in her footsteps or I paved my own path, I don’t know, but I am also far from perfect. But lately the sun has been peeking out from behind the clouds, and I like to think she’s watching over me. I am not religious and I do not believe in God, but I do find comfort in the sun. The other day the sun shone down on me and every thought, good and bad, had come back to me. She is still with me, I carry her close, as close as I can. I love her and I miss her. But I am thankful for these little reminders. I will never have to worry about forgetting her face, or her voice, or how much she means to me.

Not Even A Wish

I’m finding it hard to sleep tonight
Even as I lie here in my bed
Too many things on my mind
So many things I’ve left unsaid
I dwell on those that have hurt me
Little reminders of my past
Wondering when everything went wrong
And why nothing good ever lasts
My story of love was written
With the pain of loss in mind
As much as I try to forget him
I can’t leave our past behind
I recall those feelings
That never truly died in me
I only wish I could be saved
That he had been able to see
But his eyes close fine tonight
For him, a new love has been found
Not even a wish on a shooting star
Could erase these thoughts in which I’m bound

Unravel

I can feel myself unravel
Falling apart piece by piece
Stitch by tattered stitch
Grasping onto pieces
Before they all come crashing down
My legs crumble beneath me
Like sands under a wave
Swiftly washed away
Out of existence
Like a secret in a bottle
That’s been thrown out to sea
Overtaken by the madness
That’s been growing within me
I’m just drowning in my sorrows
Relying on past memories
To carry me anywhere but under
I’m losing grip of these lonely pieces
As they slip from me
One by one
Under the weight, I’m bending
Trying my best not to break
Not knowing
How much further I can drift into oblivion
How much more of this I can take

Remember Forever

That Christmas was one I will remember forever. Santa didn’t leave anything under my tree. We didn’t sing carols with our loved ones. I didn’t enjoy the wonderful Christmas feast before me, and there was no figgy pudding. I wasn’t alone, but I felt like I was. I felt an overwhelming darkness seeping into my skin. My own hell was warm enough to melt the freshly fallen snow. I tried to be festive. I put on my mask, the one with the plastic smile. I oozed fake joy and happiness, it filled the room. I was burning on the inside, but I stayed cool as ice. My thoughts held my tongue still. 

Not a single damning word left my lips until I felt safe. Until I was somewhere I knew I wouldn’t be judged. With the car pulled over so I could let my words flow free, on the side of the road. I could have been in a room with ten thousand people and I would have been alone. I cried out in pain as my tears broke free. I thanked him for being there, for holding me, for letting my irrationalities take hold of both of us momentarily. He knew me well. If he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t understood me, I’d have been a broken mess.

Holidays never sat well with me. I never understood them, and they never understood me. I had contemplated many a time about my departure. That Christmas was no different. He knew. I was the type that felt like I had nothing to live for, that wanted to cut out early. He knew that that day was worse than every other. He held me, reassured me it was ok. It turned out I was going to be after all. So he held me and I slept. Soundly, safely.

Christmas was over and I was still there. I had made it through the darkness in my head. Safe and sound. My own Christmas miracle perhaps. My phone rang and I answered it. My world cracked. In the midst of my own depression I forgot about my mother. I thought she was ok, she seemed fine three days before. But I suppose I seemed fine to her as well. The disbelief of the news dropped me to the floor. Drowning in my own tears, I called out for her. She was gone. Those same demons poking fun of me the day before had been poking fun at my mother as well. I should have known. We were more alike than I knew. Similar in feelings, and thoughts. My demons had been beaten, but that day she lost her battle.

She lost and I lost, we all lost to her demons. I couldn’t save her, I couldn’t even save me. It hurt. It still hurts. Pieces of me died with her. They lie beside her, in her box made out of wood. I oft wonder if they have rotted away as she does. I try and hold on to her smile in my heart. Sometimes it’s hard. Other times I think she reminds me. There are many things I have forgotten in my few years that I wish I could have held onto longer. The good memories are scarce. But the memory of that Christmas is strong. It is bittersweet. I won and lost all at once. Part of me died that day, but the rest lives on. She lives on, metaphorically. Forever is such a long time, and I still have so many years left to go, but I will never forget. I will never forget those feelings, the demons, the fight. The win, the loss, the life I still have.

That Christmas was the one I will remember forever. I must never forget…

Dedicated to my mother whose demons proved to be too much for her. She lives in my heart, and I miss her.

I Am A Statistic

 

 

  • An estimated 60 percent of teen girls’ first pregnancies are preceded by experiences of molestation, rape, or attempted rape. In one study, between 30 and 44 percent of teen mothers were victims of rape or attempted rape. Up to 20 percent of girls become pregnant as the direct result of rape.  Source
  • In the United States, one of every ten births involves a teen mother.    Source
  • The children of addicts are 8 times more likely to develop an addiction.  Source
  • Losing a parent to suicide makes children more likely to die by suicide themselves and increases their risk of developing a range of major psychiatric disorders, according to a study led by Johns Hopkins Children’s Center that is believed to be the largest one to date on the subject.  Source
  • On average, a woman will leave an abusive relationship seven times before she leaves for good.  Source

 

I am a statistic.

I can be categorized.

These things have made me what I am.

Today…

I am broken,

Shattered even.

I am missing pieces of myself.

I have lost control a time or two,

Maybe more times than that.

I have pushed away anything

Everything

That looked promising

That was good for me.

Out of fear,

Out of love.

I have been consumed

By my demons.

I have given up

More times than I can count.

I have Lied,

Cried,

Tried to move further down the road.

Sabotaged myself

Over and over again.

Picked myself up

After falling.

Dried myself off

After drowning.

Took a new breath

After suffocating myself.

I am a statistic.

My chances of making it past my past were slim.

Memories of it still haunt me.

Taunt me.

Fuck with my head.

BUT…

I am resilient.

I am stronger than I thought I was.

I am still here,

When statistics said I could’ve been dead.

I still live.

I still try to love.

I am holding onto hope

And wishes that may never come true.

I will still wish

And hope

And dream.

If dreaming is all that I have.

I am still lost,

But I am searching.

And someday,

When I find the right path,

I will find my way.

I am a statistic,

That made it to see another day…