Wishful Wishing

Tomorrow's your birthday
You were supposed to blow out
17 candles
But I see no light
And I'm crying
With only a towel wrapped around my body
Because I miss you with every fiber in me
Please come back
To at least blow out your candles
Please?

xxx
Talia

Ghost

My soul
Is a haunted house
That everyone is too afraid to crawl into
With foaming mouths
Blood-shot eyes
I look into the hearts of others
And rip into their skin
Wanting to taste their stories
And wanting to digest their love
Until it stings my pores
I cry out
With tears forming around the corners of my lips
I want to die
Because you are a ghost
And I am a haunted house
But I can't feel you anymore
You're gone
You're gone
You're gone
You're gone.



Bye.


xxx
~Talia~

For Emily. I love you. I miss you. You're forever settled in my heart.

Damsel in Distress

I am not a Damsel in Distress

I do not want to be saved 

By a boy with bags under his eyes

And prominent veins 

With a smile that drains the blood from my face 

I do not want to be saved 

By a therapist with a beak for a nose

And glasses with fake lenses 

With a bill of $100 after every session

I do not want to be saved 

By a God who may not exist

And become disappointed 

When it is my time to leave and there is only darkness

They

can 

Help

Along

the 

way

But only I can stitch up the wounds

I have opened.

Cry Baby

I don't deserve love.
Anxiety swallowed me whole
And spit me out into my mother's arms
Crying with breath shortage
And a crushed heart
She held me
And the tears stained her shirt
As she nuzzled my head in the crook of her arm
Whispering for me to calm down
Smoothing down my hair



When I turned the shower on later
It was only so that the sound of the lighter going off wasn't heard
As I ran the flame against an unusable bobby pin
Pressed against my arms straight after
The burning sensation
Never leaves me
And I cry for my mother.

Stripped

I knelt on the bathroom floor 
Nude, and saturated 
With burns on my arms
I smelled through all of your old cologne 
Hidden beneath the sink 
And I closed my eyes tightly 
For eternity.


xxx
Talia

Withered

You creep into my mind
When I least expect it
Withering my heart, my body, my soul...
Into broken glass, into dust, into nothing.


I hate this.

xxx
Talia

Sliding off my Tongue

Isn’t it sad that the only reason why I hated hurting myself was because of the paranoia that came along with doing so? The constant fear that one of my family members may see the scars, or the new cuts tracing my upper arm (and if I was having a really bad day my lower arm as well), when I get out of the shower ,or when my cardigan would slip off my shoulder. I swear, in those moments I faced fear right in the eyes, because my anxiety and paranoia was eating me whole for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But when it came to school, it didn’t matter who saw. Which also makes me sad; because that means that no one really cared enough to say anything. And the ones who did say something, were loud and obnoxious about it, and made me want to cut their throat open for making me feel so bad, and putting me in a predicament so complicated with the mere sentence “Do you cut yourself?” hanging in the air by a thin string that no one else could cut but me- and that was the only thing I couldn’t cut. And around this time last year, I’m sure my arms would be covered in thin cuts, that I would never be too satisfied with, and I’m not saying I still do not wish that upon me. Of course I do, because I am unfortunately stuck in this frame of mind that is allowing me to believe that the only way I can feel better, the only way I can feel something, the only way I can cope with this underlying sadness is if I hurt myself physically. Of course I wish my arms, and legs were coated in deep cuts, but my paranoia is preventing me from reaching this fucked up goal, and I never had such a love and hate relationship with my mind like I do now. I’m just so god damn scared of what will be. 

xxx
Talia