i stopped.

i stopped finding

soft, meaningful poetry

in your footsteps

and the cracked driveways

 

i stopped looking

for you

in crowded rooms

and my coffee’s reflection

 

i stopped asking my friends

if they were happy

they wear dark circles for makeup

and coffee stained t-shirts

 

i stopped living when i was sixteen

i’m looking for reason

no one can tell me where it is

or if it even exists

 

 

 

 

 

waterlogged.

salt water stains on my shirt
trickling down my cheeks
an angel with blonde hair
and a red dress
calmed me, rinsed
my face with cold water
now no one will know,
she said with a sad smile.

I live in yellow tiled floors
lemon, lavender scented
stalls with a seat for one
girls whisper their secrets here
in my kingdom of stifled sobs
sink water
fake smiles
(I imitate my blonde angel’s)

I watched a little girl cry
gloomily, I rinse her face
now no one will know
I whisper; she goes on
I was her caramel angel
but I wasn’t an angel
my halo was flushed away
my wings are saturated

sometime long ago
a blonde girl was trained
to hide her feelings
and I wonder why she cried
why I cry
why the little girls cries
and why we try to
wash it down the sink.

we weren’t angels,
so fallen, so waterlogged
we couldn’t even reassure
someone they were alright
because we weren’t alright
all along we were demons
who hid on yellow tiles floors
that smelled of bleach
(we should’ve licked it up)

no one cared then, & everyone cares now.

i told people. i told a lot of people.

and, they told me that this would pass.

that i was complaining.

so,

i shut up.

i hid it in journals.

i became reclusive.

you never say anything anymore.

tell me what’s going on…

no.

because, all i got was,

dramatic. you’re just trying to weird. that’s just you being shy.

and,

now it’s too late, isn’t it?

you should’ve all listened.

i was struggling. i was hurting. i was confused.

no one cared then.

i don’t need your sympathy now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Someone XXXI

Dear Someone,

 

no one will be you again

after you die

 

no one has your life

and can see with your perspective

 

no one will be a better fit for your soul mate,

they’ll wonder where you are…

 

no one will have your kids,

they won’t have your creativity and bright eyes

 

no one has your smile

or your sassy, snarky attitude.

 

no one will be the writer you are,

you craft characters; breathed life into them

 

so, hold on

you are more than you feel you are

 

Love,

Liv

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

boy.

boy, we’re a mangled mess

we couldn’t love right even if we tried

you look worried for me

but I’m worried about you too

the silence is killing me

 

you said let’s talk soon

about what? our feelings?

when? when we’re dead?

we’ll dance in the fire, won’t we?

my heart is burning with longing

 

I can’t label what we are

friends, foes, or lovers

I want you to kiss me

and hold me tight

but I want you to leave my life as well

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Someone XXX

Dear Someone,

No matter how hard I try my parents will never understand.

They took my phone away, because of my negative thoughts. I tried to tell them that punishing me isn’t going to help at all. They didn’t care.

So, now I can’t talk to anyone, because I will never talk to them about my feelings again, and it’s my thoughts and I.

And, it’s worse. I’m so much worse.

People help me remember what’s real and what’s not.

Pray for me, because I feel like I’m dying.

And, I don’t know if I’ll make it to next week.

Love,

Liv

 

 

Dear Boy.

Dear Someone–no wait–Dear Boy,

We bonded on the music. I showed you the Neighbourhood, Halsey, and The 1975 (you still listen to them on repeat, I know it…). Then the girls and guys who had dumped us. Then the want to flee our problems. Then…then…then…I was in love.

You said you needed me to stay alive. You said I needed you to stay alive.

But–as a friends. Nothing more.

Then you said you said I was beautiful. Then you said let’s run away together. Then you said let’s move in together. Then you said I can ‘manhandle’ you. Then…then…then…and before I knew it I had agreed to all of it, because I thought you needed me and I needed you.

You knew it. I was looking for someone to replace the love I had felt all last year, and he had moved on. You played it, said he was a douchebag and I was worth more. Worth you?

You fueled my hatred of him, and when I realized I didn’t hate him at all; that I wanted to be friends…you got mad at me. Why? Were you afraid of him? That he was better? Because he was.

He made me feel worth something, and when you tried…it made me feel more empty inside and that I needed you more. More…more…more…until you were my drug.

You told me I didn’t need the therapy. We could work it out together. You fed me that lie, and I wanted to believe it. I DO believe it.

Out of all the insults I could give you, I know the worst to you would be…you’re still just a boy. You say you’re better, but you’re just lying to yourself now. You say you love someone, but you don’t know what love is. You lie like a little kid who wants to avoid all the problems but get all the benefits.

And out of all your lies, I think I believe all of them still. If you showed up at my door, I’d run away with you. I have to shove my words back when I see you. I try not to look at you, because I know I’m vulnerable and you know how to hunt prey.

I hate you. I love you. I don’t need you. I need you. Isn’t it the same thing, anymore?

–Liv