erin - Hello Poetry

erin Apr 2014

You're out on your porch smoking a cigarette
while I'm at home trying to forget
the ghostly dent you left
on the right side of my bed.
When did we become like this?
We used to be interwoven threads
holding together each other's seams,
and I never thought you would be the first
to come undone.
When you kissed me and whispered
for the first time against my lips
I Love You
over and over, I thought it would last forever.
I had never believed in love or forever
until that night.
Your eyes used to make my blood pump
three times faster but now they only
skim over me like the hole in your jeans
where the seams are frayed,
like us.
These days you don't feel me;
I'm just another picture in the magazines
you tuck under your mattress,
but I'm sure you still find
my tears on your sheets.
I know it's ****** up
but I still care too much
and you, well,
you never loved anything.

Apr 2014

Chris

not anymore.

Writer’s block does not exist,
there’s only uncreative writers,
and those who don’t care enough
to care so much.
As the former,
I will write this in my quietest voice:
I am okay,
I am okay,
I am okay.
Few would care to know,
fewer would care if they knew.
But it is the truth,
and I am in no business
of making truths I cannot keep.
I no longer write with tired eyes.
I no longer think with shaking hands.
I am no longer transparent,
or translucent,
or opaque.
I am okay.
I know this because I woke up today.
Simply that.
I woke up today,
and I am not empty.

erin Apr 2014

Note To Self

Note to self:

Be gentle, to yourself and others.
The world already beats you with everything it's got and sends a tidal wave to pull you under, you don't need it from yourself, too. You want to believe you can handle anything but you're only human and you're still fragile. Hold your heart in mittened hands; not everyone will. Remember, the pain you feel today could be the pain someone else felt yesterday, or will feel tomorrow, and no one deserves it.

erin Apr 2014

The girl with the irrepairable heart

She passes like a whisper and is just as hard to catch
but never quite unnoticed.
She won't look you in the eye for long
and has trouble saying three short words
that contain too much meaning,
too much pain.
The trembling of her hair against her breath
is enough to stop men in their tracks
and if they're lucky they might get to keep her for the night.
In the dark she'll be anyone you want;
in the morning she'll be gone.
An escape artist in the bedroom,
some wake up unsure that she wasn't a dream.
At home she just discards her underwear in the closet
like another skeleton
and washes the foreign scent from her skin.
She stares in the mirror at a reflection that yields nothing,
but she would rather feel empty
than be hurt again.

erin Apr 2014

too much and never enough

I've spent too many nights
   falling asleep next to you
  and waking up without your toes
  tangled up in mine.
  Soft blue bruises form on my jawline
  from the infinitely repeated motion
  of setting my chin in my hand
  because just like my feelings,
  my skin is sensitive.
  I don't need a rubber band
  to snap against my wrist to get
  bleary-eyed when I think of you,
  all I need is to imagine your eyes
   and how they pass right over me
  like another one in line.
  I once thought I could be stranded
  in the vastness of your soul
  but now I see it's as empty as an ocean
  that doesn't reflect the stars.
  And although your soul is starving,
  I still manage to carve a room in mine
   in case you decide to stay the night.
  I've prayed for the day when
  my body doesn't ache at the sight of you
   but I've come to realize that
  my love will always be too much
  while yours is never enough.

erin Apr 2014

Edited Perception

Life is shown in black and white-
like a still-life photograph
or ink on a sheet.
At least through the lens
of a camera you can't see
broken promises or
invisible tragedy.
So next time you see me
keep your eye on the window
and I'll try to move in time
to your shutter speed.
I'll scribble you a poem
on the bottom of the creek
of a love I've never felt
and people only in my dreams.
The wind can carry my words
away with the stream-
after all,
they never did mean anything
to me.

erin Apr 2014

Untitled

Bitten nails
and raw skin,
I've started thinking
about you again.