Ink

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Boys with lungs collapsed and egos bruised, if you love her then you are lucky because the girls like to ride their bikes down paths carved in childhood scars, picture perfect smiles framed on walls melted like crayon wax in colors that stuck to the wallpaper of her bedroom. Had paper thin dreams that she learned would blow away with the wind in her chest someday. She often folds into herself until salty tears spill like waterfalls carved in her cheekbones. And if you dream about her than you are lucky. Because most of us lost her before she even waved, hello. She walks in fear of leaving behind footprints and if you love her than you are lucky. Because most of us are too drowned out to believe that she’s still got the fire in her heels. Paper dreams ablaze, she brings them back to life. So if you love her, I hope you know that you are lucky.-H

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The Taste Of You

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I am frantically brushing my teeth at 3 in the morning trying to get the taste of your tongue out of my mouth, but I can only go so far before my gums begin to bleed and my teeth start to ache the way my spine often does under the heavy, heavy weight of your hands. You liked to place them on my back. My mother is sitting in the stairway, staring at the dim white light escaping from under the bathroom door, she’s going to ask me. Why?

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Plastic Philosophies

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Grains of salt sit at my feet, thoughts that go beyond my reach. I often find myself captivated between plastic philosophies and diamond decorated lies. This life is nothing more than a mere picture on a screen, reflecting the things we wish to seek and those we die trying to grasp. As our timelines are stained by mistakes that we scramble to disguise. I learnt today that women are still sold upon shelves in warehouses, shipped in boxes cloaked with wine, futures sealed in fingers that grip their thighs and eyes that are drained of fires replaced with stone cold hands that make sure those voices are never heard as their bodies burn in emotions that can never be understood.

This world is nothing more than an ugly mirror on the ground, pieced in and out we may never be able to mend the fractured souls that get caught in its edges, it’s sharp sharp edges. So let it pour! The blood that drips down drains built on filth, bodies that fall between the cracks in someone else’s cash. I learned today that this world is a horrible place. Or perhaps I always knew. -H

~For those who never deserved it.~

 

I Can’t Accept Change

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I’ve never really been good at excepting change, whether it’s with something as small as buying clothes in colors apart from black or weather it’s something as large as moving house. Change doesn’t just scare me like it does most people, change is like that step from warmth straight into the winter snow. And there’s this feeling the unfamiliarity of a situation brings that I find hard to digest.

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A Poem For Mental Health Day

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I see you, tangled up in a ball on the kitchen floor.
And I’ll stand by, because I’ve been there before.
When your sobs overtake the sounds in your surroundings.
When your body does not feel like it belongs to you.

When you feel like giving away,
The very skin in which you stay.
When your arms tremble
Your skin goes numb,
You thoughts start to scare you.

I’ll hold your hand
I’ll brush the strands of hair out of your eyes,
I’ll hold your chin up,
Using the bottom of my thumb
And I’ll tell you to breathe.

In
Out
In
Out

And if that stops working,
I swear I’ll throw my arms around your shoulders,
Untill you can hear my heart beating in my chest.

Because I will go to the ends of the Earth,
And into the universe.
To make you feel,
Okay.-H

Mental health day is not a day in which we celebrate, it is a day to bring awareness to those in pain, those who can’t understand their own brain. And it’s each and every one of ours job to help each other when we’re down. Be there for each other and help others when they’re hurting. You might not know it but a simple hug can mean the world at times.-H