forthewriterinsideme

[forthewriterinsideme]

One time I kept a hairtie on my wrist for months because someone put it on there and told me to hold on to it.

I have a small white scar, years later, from where it rubbed sore into my skin.

There is still blood seeped into it, sitting in a box even now. I held on to it.

My devotion. Scarring myself, splitting flesh and weeping blood. A whispered command, tripping over myself to follow.

She never asked for the hair tie back. Never mentioned it again, not in the weeks I wore it or the months after I took it off.

Prostrating myself at the feet of someone who isn’t looking.

Waiting for attention to fall on me again and hoping I had done it right this time.

My devotion. Consuming myself for a second glance. Waiting endlessly for her to ask for it back.

#writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled poetry #poem #self harm tw #c #blood #bleeding #devotion #emotional abuse #devotion at the feet of a careless god #scar

[forthewriterinsideme]

I can feel an ending building and I hate the way I know how this will end. A beautiful twisted thing being bent back because the ends are too sharp. The edges filled down because even lovely things cut when you hold them too tightly. A pruning to save the good foundation. A severing of a limb stretched too tight.

I can see the end coming and hopefully it doesn’t tear it out at the roots. Hopefully a controlled burn not a wildfire. Hopefully I still come out with some part of me intact.

Either way it burns.

#writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #loss #heartbreak #prose poetry #creative writing #sometimes an ending happens anyways

[forthewriterinsideme]

I want the love between the artist and subject. Person or object the love is the same and it goes like this:

The artist saying: “Trust me

Let me take you apart piece by piece until the sum can’t be seen

Let me crack you open, see what’s hidden in the deep

I’ll deconstruct every bit of you to raw materials

I’ll break you down to something easy to digest

Let me look at you so I can start putting you back together

Let me build you up, reconstructing you in light

We’ll find the truth of you and smear it across your skin

We’ll put you back together in a way newborn

Let me make you of honesty

Let me show you to the world as you are in my eyes

I’ll show them the beauty I see in you

I’ll show you how wonderful you are”

And the subject saying back simply: “I do”

#writing #poetry #I create as I speak #poem #art #spilled thoughts #spilled poetry #love #muse #words #artist #spilled ink

[forthewriterinsideme]

You know, there are things you think you’ll never do again. Life moves on and you move forward and you stop thinking their name every time you blink.

And now it’s five years later and your face in staring back into mine. Brown eyes short hair and a name on your lips I can’t place anymore. A hand rakes down my skin and I don’t know who it belongs to. We whisper words they would cry at and laugh. I thought you were gone. I thought I was done missing you. You weren’t supposed to haunt me anymore.

Five years and I can’t picture your face but my skin remembers the flash of the camera and I feel your words casting over me. I wanted to feel loved so I fell and hoped the crash would feel like comfort. You stopped following me and I can see you on every corner if I look hard enough.

Your face in every memory and dark hair dark eyes we were supposed to stay soft. A sorry for things we both wish had been left unsaid but they weren’t and it’s been years and I still wince if I’m not careful of the angles. You walk by and I smile if I can pretend the current isn’t there and you are swimming through the tapes like they are nothing.

Taller now and you are so much older and I wish I had been wise enough to walk away. Hands hot on my waist and I want to scream so I laugh and laugh as if the blood will wash away. The truck rumbles and I am convinced you are kind. My skin can not feel where you touched me if you touched me if it happened when I wanted to go home.

Red streaming over your shoulder and I wish I had gotten to touch it at some point. You can’t see me and you were trying so hard to be seen. Light eyes heavy with something dark I couldn’t have helped carry if I tried. Four years and I still can’t say who was supposed to be sorry and I am.

Your face is staring into mine blue eyes too bright to look into. I never thought I would be back here after all this time and I never thought it would be your face I see. Hands too big too soft and I was never supposed to have to walk away. My words were never loud enough and silence says nothing when no one knows how to listen you were supposed to be the one that listened.

I wanted you to be the one that listened.

#prose #c #m #r #j #d #writing #tw blood #tw trauma #tw sexual assault

[forthewriterinsideme]

I make a list of the names who hurt me and I place it on my tongue. It tastes like bitter tears and blood underneath the sweet. I invite them into my body, let the doors open wide. The sun shines bright except for where it doesn’t, catching the sharp edges like gemstones. I let the memories overtake me. There’s a flood in my bones and it smells like they used to. I let the names soak in, dissolving so no one else can read them but me. The paper burns my tongue but this way they are mine.

I could let flame catch the edges, taking them into the air. The ashes would scatter far and wide where others can see. I could let them rip from my throat until they hear me. They would know what has gone as dark becomes light and the empty is freed. I would let them fly until the heavy is out. Hands holding what they put inside and it would feel justified. I could let them burn in a wildfire haze, cleansing me like tears never could. It would be so bright they couldn’t hide.

I feel the ink slide down my throat as I swallow. It clings to the flesh like the worst kind of drink and I let it linger. I run my hands over the broken, sweeping away dust. The sun is welcoming them in now, showing into me. I hold the names closer. They don’t know I still have them just as they never knew they marked me. I bite down and turn it into a grin. The names on the paper are dark and old and no one else can taste them.

#writing #words #poetry #prose #pain #trauma #I create as I speak #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled ink #prose poetry #poem #blood #fire

[forthewriterinsideme]

A toast to the wicked

You were a wild child until the end. The worst influence, barreling in at the right time. You grabbed my hand and we ran into the flames together.

You had a good soul. Bruised and tender after it all but still good. You reached in to me and I wanted to be something tender with you.

You blew smoke in my face and I relished the burn in my lungs. An addiction that still haunts me. One I can’t think about without thinking of you.

You made my heart race. I wasn’t supposed to want you and you broke the rules to make me. I was gone for you from the first touch backstage.

You burned me because you had been burned. I hold no blame for either of us, I had been burned before. My fire touched you and I wish I could take it back now.

You have a permeant place in my heart. It aches endlessly but it is so warm. I do not regret carving into it for you; I would not change having you.

You birthed my bad habits from yours and they hurt so sweet. Risking it all for a rush we couldn’t ignore and I can’t ever seem to feel the same. For you I gave up sweetness and you made me feel alive.

You drank away your demons and now I drink away mine. A lesson in trouble I can’t forget. I drink for you and for all the things we meant to share.

A toast to you for what could have been and a toast for what was. You dragged me down and it felt like fresh air. You saved me with our sacrifice and I can never love you enough. A toast to your demons. A toast to your wonder. A toast to you, you, you. May you rest in peace

#writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #prose #poetry #death #drinking #drug abuse #smoking #past love #love poetry #eulogy #I create as I speak #k #spilled poetry

[forthewriterinsideme]

Watch me chum the water and jump in

Sharks circling before I get wet and yet

What if it’s fins or razor blades

When up and down look the same sometimes it’s better if you’re the one to jump

In first

What if you weren’t the first

When you had been bleeding for months and they ripped the bandages away

Is it your fault when the blood hits the waves

After months of aching

When the pain only gets stronger when you remove the blade

Sometimes you can’t tell whose hands you’re holding

And whose are holding your neck

What if your net was making you scream

When it falls away you can splash or burn

Only one still feels like being held

You can think a shark a dolphin if you only look once

Even if you know the true shape all the same

Whose fault is it when the waters turn red

What if you can see the boat going under

Is it suicide to fall into the arms of murder

When it’s hurting alone or being hurt sometimes it’s worth not being lonely

So the fins are circling

And I am already bleeding into the waves

Can you blame me for falling in

Can you blame them for eating me

#writing #my work #poetry #self harm tw #blood #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #sharks #death #suicide tw #sad poetry #poem #c #m #I create as I speak #spilled poetry

[forthewriterinsideme]

Today is International Women’s Day, and I don’t know where I should stand. I want to say I am proud of “us”, but I am not part of that us. I am not a woman. Yet I know their struggles and fight as well as any woman. I am not a woman. Yet today I know I could be grouped in with their praise. I am not a woman. Yet I am not separate from them like men are. I am not a women. Yet people have treated me like one. Still, I am not a woman. Today is not my day. Today is International Women’s Day, and I am giving it to them without me included.

#and we’re back! #international women's day #still queer

[forthewriterinsideme]

My binder has grown too small.

This is not a surprise; my binder is years old now and lived longer than expected. Yet I have not bought a new one and today I grab an old sports bra instead. It, too, is too small, but I make it work anyways. It presses against my flesh, chest squeezed down into something that I can stand to ignore. The weight of my dislike rests against my ribs. The edges press in but it is a comforting pressure. There is something to be said about how we find comfort in constraint. How the compression against our bones feels like a day-long hug. The name of the thing we use to find freedom in our form speaks of capture. We bind our chests but we are in bondage to so much more. My ribs will ache when I undress but it will be a sweet pain. It is worth it, we think. Exchanging torment for peace in a body we never asked for.

#writing #poetry #i create as i speak #trans #trans experience #trans masc #transgender #words #prose #spilled thoughts #nonbinary #gender #spilled writing #gender disphoria #body

[forthewriterinsideme]

Old friend do you remember when we were young? We played hide and seek on sacred ground, running like the Devil himself was chasing. The fire escape creaked under our pounding feet and we were fearless. Do you miss being wild? Do you miss when knowing Him was enough? We snuck away from Sunday school for secret moments under the parish and our faces burned when they asked where we were. We brought each other gifts for after service without a thought for St. Valentine. You sent me messages about how you’d keep me warm and we’d call until our mothers made us hang up the phone. You were always supposed to be a good boy, I was always supposed to stay sweet. Did you know I wanted to love you? Could you tell my soul ached to go? You kissed me as my mother called to us and we couldn’t make our eyes meet. I left you in the sun of spring and I hope you know I’m still sorry for breaking your heart. May the Lord bless and keep you when I couldn’t may his light show you new days.

Dear heartbreak can you remember your confession? It’s been years and I can still feel the fear at your feelings. Your words felt like nails in my hands even as they brought salvation. My tongue burned with unholy fire and I felt you become my undoing. Our summer love was soft and sweet and secret. Do you remember my mother’s words of warning even as your parents couldn’t know? Has scripture ever made you so afraid? Our hands found each other in darkness and you lead me through the valley more times than I can count. We shared stolen kisses while Disney played and prayed your father wouldn’t peek in. Do you wish we had waited? Could you tell the secrets made me a sacrifice? You broke my heart in the fall and it felt like Gods wrath had found me. Months of dancing crashing down and I worshiped you through it all. For I so loved you that I gave my everything and I perished for you to be everlasting.

Oh lover can you still feel our fear? You came to me in sorrow and I tried to give you hope. The serpent crawled through your words and I could not be your savior. Still we wrote letters of the sweetest sins and our hands held tight beneath the pews. We spoke not of what passed between us, for you were repenting even as you acted and I was terrified to lose another exaltation to secrecy. Do you regret giving me your psalms? Could you take it back even if you tried? You gifted me protection from the cold and I wrote you songs that rivaled those of Solomon. Yet we withered under the weight of your regret and I ached to run to greener pastures. We held on through the winter storms but we could not turn enough water into wine to save us. Do you still curse my name in the darkness? Can you admit to anyone other than God that we existed at all? In the light of a new year I stole away into the devils night and I heard you calling out behind me. “My love my love why have you forsaken us?” That is, my God, my God, why have you forsaken us all?

#writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #religious trauma #poetry #love letter #love poetry #queer #gay love #i create as i speak #lgbt #prose #religious imagery #Christian #Christian upbringing #m #c #r

[forthewriterinsideme]

I tell my friends I have found my deepest darkest secret.

I say it like a joke. I let the words roll off my tongue like it’s easy when I have to force them out with my breath. I say that I can’t tell them now, that I’m saving it for when they ask on their own. I tell them that we can play truth or dare and I will finally have an answer. I say I have found my deepest darkest secret and I’m not saying I can tell them it.

When I tell them I found it I’m saying I’ll let them know someday. I’m saying that my walls are coming down slowly but just not yet. I can see it’s a darkness now and not a light so please wait for me. Please wait until I can put the darkness where you can see. Please wait until I can split myself open and tear it out for you because I am still healing from the times parts of me were stolen. I have found my deepest darkest secret so let me find how to share it with you.

My deepest darkest secret was not something I had known because I couldn’t see that it was deep or dark, only that it was secret. I couldn’t see how far down I had locked it away until I felt safe enough to explore again. I can only find it now because it’s no longer mixed in with everything else. It’s the deepest and darkest only because you have let me shine light on the others. For every thing I find I have not yet told you, a hundred layers have already been peeled away. We are getting to the core of me. I am finding it hard to let go.

So I’ll tell them I’ve found my deepest, darkest secret. And in that is a promise that someday, it won’t be anymore.

#writing #my words #poetry #prose #prose poetry #i create as i speak #my writing #recovery #friends #found family #love #mental illness #spilled poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled writing #spilled prose

[forthewriterinsideme]

I trace the lines of sleep in your face and note how you will never get to see this kind of peace on yourself.

There is no carefully prepared expression or creases of worry. It is soft. It is beautiful.

I let myself be selfish for a moment, drinking in this sight just for me. When you wake, there will be a second of gentle bliss before the weight of it all settles in. I wish I could hold you here, give you a taste of what you feel now. But your eyes will open and this will disappear, so I settle in what I have for now.

When you see yourself awake, I know this is not what you see. You see stress where I see beauty. The gentle lines I love so much look too harsh in the cold reflection of a mirror. There is a stillness that cannot be described as anything other than peace that slips away before you’re even fully awake. You cannot see the grace in the way your eyelashes rest against your soft skin. Your lips, parted slightly in a silent whisper of calm. Every breath so slow, moving your chest ever so slightly. I try to memorize every inch, every freckle and curve, wanting to admire enough for the both of us. In this moment, I know you cannot see what I see. But I know, if I could lend my sight to you, let you see this the way I do, you would see the beauty I fail to comprehend. You would understand how you have given me a new definition of beautiful.

#love #writing #prose #love poem #poetry #sleepy #sleep #words #i create as i speak #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled writing #dreams #I love you #a #freckles #face #beauty #I wrote this

[forthewriterinsideme]

They’re always hypocritical, aren’t they. All twisted tongues and double edged swords. Always soft, always sweet, always sickeningly see through. Never straightforward, never honest, never to be trusted. It’s always about what they don’t say, isn’t it. Always about what’s simmering under the surface. What’s in the pauses and what’s hidden in too many words. Isn’t it funny how they always hold all the power? How they think we can’t see what’s really going on? They slither and slide through us never letting too much show. Masks drawn too tightly against a too honest face. There’s a one way mirror between us but they have the sides mixed up. Hidden in bright lights and we’re the audience seeing behind the sheen. We see the strings pulling us along and we see behind the velvet curtain. We see actions more than words and it’s saying a lot about them. They’re always apologizing but never for the right things. Claims made of trying but trying is different than doing and they so rarely bother to start to try. They never apologize until it’s too late. Never giving ground until the ground is pulled out from under them, always changing rules before locking them down again. Always waiting for praise when they’ve only performed an act worthy of shame. Silencing the unwieldy and showing them off like a prize. Well we’re not okay with being trophies any longer. We’re cutting our strings and pulling the curtain down. Shining lights on shadows and saving messages given for our eyes only. Descrambling the codes and making our own. We’re turning back the swords and waiting for the final blow. It’s their move now. Who wants to bet they’re gonna lie about taking it?

#fuck you jan #you a bitch #writing #words #prose #white women be like #i create as i speak #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled writing #spilled prose #spilled ink #anger #honest #lies

[forthewriterinsideme]

I know the world looks ugly. I see darkness around every corner and despair in every crack and yet. I see more. I see us. Because when the world turned to darkness we decided to create light. We yanked hope out of the ground, screamed for mercy as the pain grew to be too much. We didn’t stop. We found mercy, carved out places for others to rest when the darkness was too deep. We raised hope like a battle flag. A beacon for those buried. A symbol of what we could become. I watched us clasp hands, watched us decide sacrifice wasn’t worth it anymore. Watched us stand up to fight. And we did. We reached out hands. We shared our resources. We wrote songs and stories. We made art. We lifted up tales from the battlefield and people who risked it all and we made something beautiful. I watched us stumble to our feet and scream until the darkness shrunk back in our light. I watched us fight. And sometimes we lost. Sometimes it was too heavy and too hard and sometimes we gave up the fight. Yet I see us. And I see us rise, because the world may be ugly but we are here to make it beautiful again.

#writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #words #prose #spilled writing #i create as i speak #spilled prose #art #beautiful #covid19 #2020 #2020 is a shitshow #shitshow2020

[forthewriterinsideme]

To @inkskinned

I know you’ll probably never read this but- I think you’re one of my little loves. One of those people that sticks with you without ever knowing you’re there. I think I fell in love with your words and then they caught be before I could hit the ground. I think I’m never going to forget you. You’ve never said a word to me but you’ve said a thousand that have changed my life. It’s a little love, that’s all, one of those people that you can’t get out of your mind, that keep a smile on your face when you think the world has finally gone to shit and they probably never know you’re there. I think you gave me the gift of looking for those little loves. Of letting myself remember and see and feel all those people whose lives have touched mine that so easily could have not. Of looking at the world and seeings that there’s things to fall in little love with everywhere. I think I’ve fallen in love with a thousand little things because of you. You’re one of my little loves, here’s a little love letter to you.

#writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #words #prose #spilled writing #i create as i speak #spilled prose #love #love letter #inkskinned

[forthewriterinsideme]

I wish I was easier to love, that’s all. Wish the doubts in my head were a little bit quieter so you didn’t have to love so loud. Wish this could be simple, wish there were less breakdowns. I wish you didn’t have to find me broken-down, wish you didn’t have to crawl under beds and blankets to find me at all. I wish I could be a bit stronger. Wish I didn’t flinch so much. Apologize so much. Cry so damn much. I wish I could be the kind of person that doesn’t need to ask for reassurances every hour and wish I could be someone reassuring instead. I wish you didn’t have to be there for me, wish I could be alone and feel safe there. I wish you didn’t feel the need to make sure I eat and make sure I sleep and make sure I breathe. I wish I could pull myself together long enough for a stress-free trip to the store. Wish I didn’t panic over dinner and fight to not collapse at your feet. I wish this was simpler for you. Wish you didn’t have to be so careful and speak so soft. I wish it could be an easy kind of love. I wish I didn’t make it so hard, that’s all.

#im sorry this cant be easy for us #i love you #poem #poetry #prose #writing #i create as i speak #spilled thoughts #spilled prose #spilled words #spilled ink #love #past trauma #healing

[forthewriterinsideme]

You’re back again tonight and I know I can’t make you go away. I know that it’s not my choice. But I can feel you here stealing the oxygen from my lungs and maybe I want to breathe right now. I know I would give my breath for you any day if it meant you could come back. But I don’t get to make that choice. It was never mine to make. Not when you left the first time and not when you left for good. Maybe I knew it was always going to be you leaving me and never the other way around.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Of course it’s wasn’t my choice but you were supposed to stick around. Maybe not for me but for everyone else. You were supposed to make it past 20. You were supposed to become a star. You were not supposed to be right. Not about this. What right do you have, coming back around to haunt me now? What right do you have to be haunting me even now?

Still I’m unsure of mourning you. Didn’t I forfeit that many months before? Didn’t I mourn you once when the love between us faded? But I loved you and I never stopped loving you, not completely. You left me and I mourned you once. Do I get to mourn you again? Do I have the right anymore? Why are you still here.

You’re still hurting me and I’m happy here. This wouldn’t have happened if you had stuck around. But you left. So why are you back? I already see you everywhere I go. I see you in them. It makes it hurt to love them some days. To hear their voices repeat the same Vines you used to quote daily. To watch them love all the same things you did. How can I move on when you are haunting everything I do? When you keep coming back? Don’t I get to start breathing again without you stealing it away from me?

I can’t change what happened. I can’t change that I’ve lost you twice now and I am never going to get you back. I can’t change that you will keep coming back. But let me breathe again. Please. It’s the only way I know how to go on.

#i keep crying over you #its been months now #you would have been 19 this month #i cant let you go #k #writing #words #death #poetry #prose #spilled thoughts #spilled poetry #spilled ink #i create as i speak #i love you #dying #letting go