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Qynn Oct 2017
My demons are my best friends
The ones who hold me in my times of need
Who press themselves into me
Without me ever asking
Despite my protests

They sow the seeds of anguish
Amongst the fields I reign
Like plague they reap
Before I may ever thaw.
Qynn Mar 2018
the words that we grow to respect
from our mothers, our fathers
our older brothers and kin
are the same words we learn to resent
sowing seeds of doubt in fertile heads.
Qynn Jul 2018
Red, like the river that flows between my legs every so often.

Of course, this the color I paint my nails, as if the subtle yet bold mark of femininity could make me feel any more like a woman. As if the pain in my abdomen suggests that, yes, one day I shall be worthy of the burden of bearing human life - a parasite within, a martyr without.

Such gifts these are. Never asked for, so oft granted, regardless of prayers for fragile offspring.

We gasp at the guarantee of torn womanhood. We sigh at the kick inside.
We are women - strong, unyielding beasts of the northern stars. We bleed ourselves dry in hopes that we may find our way back home - our blood ever thicker than any sweat or tear could dream to be.

The red of our bodies shimmers bright beneath the moon.

The perfect pathway from mother
to daughter
to mother.
Qynn Jun 2018
I look for love where it cannot be found
I search barren places for any trace of fruit
honey
sweetness
sensations that have no place in the bed I have made

your lips are rough with sugar
I would rather keep you ripened
than let you rot away

ever still
selfishly
I beg you to stay.
Qynn Jul 2018
No matter how bad I wanted this to be
I’ll take it down from where it hangs
and leave it here to bleed
With sand in my heart
my feet in the sea
The storm arrives
and suddenly
I know it’s time to leave

The lighthouse keeps on beckoning as I cast off from the shore
Despite everything I had
I still got caught
I wanted more
And I tried to stay the winds
to stay the waves
to stay in your arms
But I found myself thrown in the current
We push farther apart

And it’s wrong, this song, this eulogy
Of bittersweet departure
The times we shared so late at night
I’d give it all to find you
But I’ve grown so tired
watching you and her along the shoreline
And now I’m soaked all through my clothes
to my bones
I’m out of time.
Qynn Oct 2017
I build myself up with kind words.
Words I do not hear from the person I want to hear them from the most.

Sometimes the things that are best for us are also the most painful.

I hurt so much, I don't want to hurt any more.

But I don't want to hurt any longer.
Qynn Apr 2018
why is it that I must wait
for your apologies to me
to be coaxed out of you
by your friends

who somehow smell
who somehow see
who somehow ******* hurting

long after the words fall from your lips

and far before the “sorry” comes?
Qynn Oct 2017
I work hard.

I break myself for the better.

I choke on my own exhaust.

I sob on the long walk home.

I lash out intermittently, as if someone would care about my struggles.

I cry for help.

I snap at the hands that reach to touch.

Like a wounded animal.

Screaming.

Fighting.

For what?

Where is the line between fighting and dying?
Qynn Jul 2018
it is 2 in the morning
and I am up, sick
pregnant with such wishful thoughts
if only things had turned out differently

hello

goodbye.
Qynn Mar 2018
it’s been one year
i am still consistently horrified
at the thought of what could go wrong
how many broken promises must I suffer through
like shattered glass in each step
******, broken, without you?
Qynn Jun 2018
despite the amounts
of sleep and sanity
I sacrifice
to ensure the extinction
of the other woman

she thrives.

like flies to putrid corpses
the threat multiplies.

you attract.
Qynn Feb 2018
every day I waste away here
I entertain the glorious idea
of getting up
and walking out

Alas

I need this job
more than I need my dignity.
Qynn Apr 2018
I know
my mother is not proud of me
when I change my hair
bejewel my face
or tell her about the newest boy.

I am my mother’s daughter,
and we have made so many of the same mistakes.

I hope
my mother is proud of me
when I get a nice job
in the tallest building in the city
wear nice clothes
and sell my soul
to become another piece
in the people’s machine.
Qynn Jun 2018
time after time
after time
after time

we repeat the appropriate
expected
scheduled mantras

as if they still have meaning
as if they promote feelings
as if the syllables are different now
in number, as the words leave our lips

the bittersweet

wishing for a time
before time
before time

when the resistance of regret
was as foreign to us
as wilted blossoms to seeds.
Qynn Mar 2018
these days
i look less and less into your starving
stunning
open
absent eyes

in your vacancy

it almost makes the one-day
inevitable pill
easier to swallow.
Qynn Jun 2018
I try too hard
and the taste I leave
on your god-given lips
is heavy,
chalky and bitter.
Qynn Dec 2013
If only I had known you
Before I knew him.
If only I had known your skin
Maybe things wouldn't be this way,
I would not owe to life
Such bitter debt.

We could live together somewhere
In the city - you and I
Singers and painters and names
Not yet written down in the book of life
For such a life would we have to live!

We'd be those silly romantics -
The kind you see in sappy indie films
And the kind that people pluck guitar strings to.
The ones whose faces ache from smiling,
Whose lips and eyes are chapped by love.

Instead our lives are less saturated with love
Then they should be.
Hundreds upon hundreds of miles
Taking our breath away
With each and every word.

Breathlessly sleeping,
And endlessly awake.
I am so tired, I am so tired.

If only I could keep my mouth shut.
Keep my heart shut.
If only I had waited.
If only I had waited for you.
Qynn Nov 2013
I wanted to make music
And I wanted to be a star
I wanted to be so far away from who you are
Dirtied by the masses
And scarred

Bitter taste
Plastic smile
Lead heart

Now I paint my face
To take off my skin
And bare the ***** within.
Qynn Jan 2014
Life is short.  It is fast and unforgiving.  
And in the time that we are given
- the time we are allotted to spend here on this planet -
we don't ask nearly enough questions.

No, not "who where why when how".

Questions that matter.

Will it rain tomorrow?
What's your name?
The first two things I said to your face.

We were younger then, and I didn't know that in a month's time
I would be asking you much more important things.

Like your favourite colour.
The songs that lift your spirits.
If I could be someone, anyone, to you.

And now.
We are where we are.
You have become to much more to me than I had ever dreamed,
and, as you had told me, time and time again, I to you.

Life is short, so I want you to know that I love you.
I love you more than "I love you" could ever say.

Life is fast, and I want to make these memories
-however virtual and electronic they may be -
last.

And life, above all, is unforgiving.
I will never be able to tell you what I want you to know.

I'm not so sure anymore that I will do anything worthwhile with the time I am given.
After all...
What kind of time would I be spending without you?
Sort of prose.  Read-aloud: https://soundcloud.com/qynnv/will-it-rain-tomorrow-poetry
Qynn Jun 2017
So much writing.
So many words.
Enough to make my fingers burn.

I would set these sheets on fire
If it meant I could get you
To look at me
Hungry
And with desire.
Qynn Jul 2017
When I hear the office women,
dressed up so pretty in their nice clothes
say that they are having a bad day -
I scowl.

Have you been crying quietly
at your desk
all day
too?

Do you mourn for the family that abandoned you?

Do you long for a safe space, a place to go to, to call home?

Has your lover forgotten how to love you?

Have you lost your peace -
Have you ever known peace -

Or, like me
are you conveniently
forgettable
expendable
and very much,
mostly unwanted?
Qynn Oct 2013
You bury me
Beneath a mountain of bones
Your skeletons, tired of closets
Ripping the doors open
Longing to be free

And here I sit
Sipping silently
My blood and rage boiled over
In my heart, heavy with such woe
I will never be what you want
I will never be her, though

Crimson.
Ivory.
Charcoal.

Let me rip her apart for you
Let me tear her apart, my love
You want to know her every angle
Let me splinter her bones
May I?

Crimson.
Ivory.
Charcoal.

Let me cry to you of my failures
Let me sing to you of my hopes
You want me to know I'm not alone
Let me shred myself at the core
May I?

Crimson.
Ivory.
Charcoal.

You bury me.

— The End —