The poem as prey, as blood luscious, elusive. The poem as the locked room.
37 posts
What Can Life Offer Anyway
What can life offer anyway
That I can't have with you in death?
What feels more like home anyway
Than it does besides your grave?
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More Posts from Unlikelyanonymous
Tw: eating disorders and self harm
The monsters in my head. They won't leave.
An empty stomach. A grave where I live.
Scars on my thighs. A strange relief.
A disconsolate existence. A sigh of grief
My shattered childhood. It haunts me still
Whimpers of pain. A broken will.
Venomous family. Full of greed.
Begged you to stop it. It never did.
What a subtle form of self harm it is to love you.
Such a gruesome death to die.
What a comfort it is to be to be loved by you.
Such a torment it is to be not.
Spring is awaking from its slumber 🤍💐🌾
If I believed in god I would ask him why he did this to me.
But I do not.
If I believed in myself I would ask me how I let this happen.
But I do not
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You were like the sea
The delicate intimacy of you visiting my dreams. Only then I get to see you.
The sea, with all its hurricanes, all its storms. It reminds me of you.
Watching you fall in love and out of love. But never with me.
You were like the sea, with all its stillness. And all its peace.
My intense longing for you to stay. So hopeless yet so ardent.
Because just like the sea you were. Always changing yet so persistent.