[She bites God in the wrist]

im sorry i didnt see this until now! i have no idea how old this ask is, if ur still following this blog my sincerest apologies!!!

and yes yes YES. i used to write NON STOP when i was a teenager and was at my saddest. some of my best poems came out of an unhappy relationship and messy breakup. things have been relatively good for me lately. im in a healthy, loving relationship, im flourishing in school, i have steady employment. but i also cant help wondering if any of that matters if i cant write? if i cant do the one thing ive always prided myself on? i dont want to be the type of person who believes good art can only come from tragedy.

host or parasite or ghost- did it ever even matter? the silence fucked me harder than he ever could have hoped.

the violence of a tooth mark or fingerprint or the violence of myself- did i ever even matter?

starved: a six year hunger, a six year yearn. no matter how many lovers i take i’ll never learn.

repulsed: i can’t be touched, a distant love. its never enough/

starved: i want to be touched, but my skin just isn’t enough

maybe i’m not a good person. it never felt right invoking his name but still, i carry it with me, within me. i carry his scars and mine on my back like whip lash.

dead space but still not enough distance. we never even danced.

i wish you never even gave me a chance.

like the white of the body of a woman who could be me if we really wanted it to be, like the blood orange we let rot on the kitchen floor. come and we’ll cross our hearts at the door.

pretend to be a little pious with me, pretend to be patient. be still and breathe. be still for me

he doesnt know about the blood on the tongue, the noose of barbed wire and daisy, a sunday full of sadness.

he doesnt know i was born with the guilt heavy in my stomach like a rock in the pocket, like a river rushing towards me. he doesnt know i was purple with the death of poets.

he doesnt know they call me stillborn in a bell jar, locked in a garage with the car turned on.

i feel bloated with all these secrets even my own sister doesnt know. what he doesnt know hurts me.

i cut myself on heaven’s edge, just twelve years old and already swallowing the glass eye. grew up glory-ridden, smoke-hidden, gold singed.

forked tongue beauty, please come a little closer. closer, closer, so close to my teeth and tongue and upturned left cheek.

i’ll raise my right hand, injure myself on her light. beauty please, beauty please

this,,,,, is a QUESTION wow lmao.

teenage me and 20s me are almost two completely different people, but also not. when i remember being 16, i was so troubled and so lonely and i felt so much older than my actual age. i still feel that way now. my birthday was just this past monday (the 8th) and when i said to my coworkers “i just turned 22″ it felt weird to say because that sounds too young to be my age. i think being a child dealing with complex feelings related to mental health and trauma kind of tricks you into feeling like the wrong age, the wrong body, the wrong person.

two years ago on my 20th birthday, my friend said to me “maybe your 20s wont be shit because your teens were” and i laughed and scoffed and said “yeah right!” because why would anything change with age? ive already been 20 for the longest time, it just took a while for the rest of me to catch up. but, to be perfectly honest, that might have been the most naive thing ive ever said.

these past few years, i feel like im finally coming into my own. when i was 19 i was at community college n i felt trapped. my grades were passable, but nothing to rave about. i had no real career goal or ambition for that matter. i was still so so so lonely n was convinced i was gonna be trapped at my cashiering job for the rest of my life. i literally once described my hometown as a bell jar(!!). but now, at 22, i attend university n i’ll be graduating in 2021 n starting grad school, im getting internships lined up, im looking into studying abroad. two weeks ago i won an award for a research paper i wrote n presented it at an actual, real life, academic conference. ive been with my boyfriend for almost a full year now n have never been happier with someone.

thank you! i do not lmao when i was in high school i published some stuff to hellopoetry so if u happen to find that Sorry.

wait is this for an ask meme?? lmao i think i reblogged that like a year ago :o im still gonna answer tho !

hatched the day the earth fell from its nest. all fledgling, no feather. got her wings clipped in late december.

can’t tell the salt from the dirt. baby you’re the yolk of the earth.

outside the church on old St. James street

its all nighttime wrapped around tongues and angels on bathroom floors. an ache in the chest, like a death or familiar friend.

how many times can i pull my own teeth until i bleed?

‘no boy has ever kissed my wrist like this’ i write as if i know what its like to be touched, to be loved like i am enough.

fifteen or seventeen or twenty- its all the same lines all the time

girl with the nectar, girl writing prose, girl with the nosebleed love and bruise on her thigh.

she smells just like my father - cigarettes and nighttime.

do you remember what you said to me? ‘life can’t be all pomegranate seeds’

i bite my nails now, pick my skin now, dream about needles and pins now.

i’d give you a poem, maybe two. i’d give them all to you.

like a kiss on my breast, i want you in my chest.