I’ve always enjoyed writing, and I have a particular interest in poetry. There is something so beautiful about being able to bring out so much emotion and thought in such few words that intrigues me. I feel the most creative when I write poetry; I feel as if I get to take a step outside of my life and am able to express a creative side that is normally suppressed by daily life and stress.
Welcome to the dark.
She watches one of the last orange leaves float down onto the pavement,
And listens to the loud crunch when a child’s boot crushes it with ease.
Autumn is ending, and she knows that the trees will die and soon be covered in snow.
The air will be chilled and quiet, except for the occasional noise from sharp winds and cracking ice.
She’s never felt so in tune with the world, than in this approaching season.
She lets the bitter, cold winter consume her.
It’s almost as though she feels her organs calcify inside of her body, and the blood freezing in her veins.
She lies motionless all day; any movement is hard on her icy bones.
All she can feel is the stinging emptiness inside of her.
Even though her surroundings are warm, she is frozen in her silent hell.
Lying still, her frosted flesh glistening in the sunshine.
The sun beaming onto her skin, making tears drip from every inch of her body.
She feels the heat melting away the frost, warming her on the surface.
She can feel the blood start to run beneath her skin, and feels the soft beating in her chest.
She wants to let the warm, welcoming spring consume her.
She wants to watch the plants come back to life, and admire the new, blooming flowers.
She wants to listen to the birds chirping, and the wind blowing softly against the leaves.
It is bright outside, and the pale blue sky is holding the fluffiest of clouds.
But even with the sun shining, she still remains in the dark.
All of the warmth can’t melt the ice around her heart.
Inside, a sense of numbness lingers.
She aches to feel complete and whole, but she can’t escape that hollow feeling within.
So she embraces the idea that she is stuck in the darkness.
She becomes one with that frigid feeling in her soul.
And she lets it consume her.
You pick me up above your head, just to put me back down and kick me while I’m there
You ask my how my day is every day, just to slur “shut the fuck up” from across the room every night
You tell me that I am smart and you’re proud of me, just to call me a “dumbass bitch” later on
You tell me that you love my glasses, just to turn around slap them off my face
You say to be honest and true, yet I see you hiding pills that have someone else’s name on the bottle
You ask how I am doing, just to tell me that I am not doing well enough
You curse me out and insult me, just to drown yourself in liquor and pretend it didn’t happen
All I want is out. I know I don’t deserve this, and you do too, which is why you drink every night
You drink to “forget” how you’ve threatened to put me in the hospital
You drink to “forget” lighting up a cigarette in the apartment and blowing it all over my clothes
You drink to “forget” that you told me to slit my wrists
You drink to “forget” the fact that YOU are the problem
But, I am aware of your faults
I remember the hurtful words you’ve screamed in my face
I remember you putting me in a headlock and breaking my necklace
I remember the police coming to the door every weekend because you were trashed and out of control
I remember that YOU were the problem
Once I found my way out, you told me I’d coming crying back
You told me that I would beg to come back and that you wouldn’t let me back in
I knew at that moment that whatever happened, I would NOT come back
And I have to live with these memories, while you continue to live in denial
However I will not scream insults at you, because it is not worth my time
I will not ask how you are doing, because I do not care anymore
This is your fault.