farahdiaa

I hold you in my lungs like nicotine

I look past my reflection in the mirror; whale-sized thighs, and arms too big for the oceans rain pours down like sharp daggers into my flesh, and I’m tired teeth hurt, and I’m tired heart pounding, and I’m tired my mermaid waves leave my head like an old porcelain doll, dying and I’m tired I teach my body how to stop needing, in with the calories, and I’m tired out with the calories, and I’m really tired silent screams echo at the fake reflection that stares blindly through the broken mirrors fuck me up, I’m seeing stars tonight bones aching, and I’m smiling bullets to the head, and I’

I woke up to her, drenched in wine and mascara tears I woke up, wore my dress and stared out of her window as if it were mine, as if I had the right to undress her fears and throw them on railway tracks. I woke up and I couldn’t look at her without cringing the bruises, the tender skin, the way she screamed through the night and held my body for safety I woke up and I felt her drift away from everything we have known I woke up and I shouldn’t have woken up.

I was born with wounds in my head they tell me I’ll be better and they give me pills but oh, nothing takes you out of me for you are stitched into my soul like disease. Sometimes I want to hide in my mother’s womb and build a fortress of all the tears we’ve cried you and I so there's a bed and there’s our bodies intertwined like homes that swallow the skies and dance under the pouring rain and during hurricanes there’s a body and there’s another there’s a pill and there’s the other and there’s my dry mouth begging for a drizzle, from your soul, boy. fuck medications.

I wake up on your side of the bed cold, without you to bring sunlight to dandelion bones, shaken by the violent winds and dimmed stars that sew our eyes shut, together and then apart like children on swing sets on a warm summer night. blow these dandelion bones far apart and into the sky till I’m void of anything but battered skin and galaxy bruises till I’m nothing but everything.

I walked hallways and corridors that led me to nowhere but haunting blood scenes and dirty nooses hanging with emptiness where the bodies used to be whispers screaming to be heard from the ceilings and the corners like bone edges on her body, ribcage swallowing the birds up whole, feathers between the lips and blood on the fingertips where her hands once held the carcasses of lost souls

I write poems that I never finish the end.

your eyes glare in the darkness like dimmed stars in the night sky words upon words and knives that go through the chest and out, like harsh touches resembling fires and hurricanes and I’m lost like a little child looking for the love of a dead father scars upon scars and battle wounds in the heart, in the soul (but you won’t be the death of me.)

so many bodies lie rotting and I’m sick many hands digging holes in the ground and I’m sick. I’m sick and tired. I think of how you used to be, and the weight of the world squeezes my neck till my heart splatters like red paint on an empty canvas. I’m sick, and I let you carve abandonment into my flesh. I’m sick and I want to sleep where the bodies don’t sleep.