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

Dead & Gone (pretty fucking morbid title)

And despite the change in the year number
It still feels like 730 days ago
With new skin open
Sad melodies playing
Anxiety gnawing at my heart
But with the exception of you gone
And that's what kills me in the end.


xxx
Talia

My Rambles Aren't Beautiful

Jet black hair
Slicked back with gel 
Only to have one piece of hair 
Fall loose in your face 
Tired eyes 
And a devious smirk 
I don’t know if you saw me 
Probably not 
I wouldn't have had the balls 
To have said hello anyway 
Oh well 
I liked your rugged appearance 
That’s okay 
You were just keen on the eyes 
You probably wouldn't have found me 
As intriguing 
As I did you 
It’s all up the stars.

xxx

Talia