complete lack of surprise / smirking revenge
I am Jack’s high blood pressure.
I am the lump in Jack’s throat.
I am Jack’s heart on hunger strike.
In ten years, our fingers will already
be growing crooked around stuck wedding rings.
I will cry in the shower, you will hear me
when you stand in front of the mirror,
applying your perfume to clue me where to kiss.
I am the pliers in Jack’s right hand,
the night my clothes smell telltale, speaking
the incense of someone else’s foggy bathroom
and someone else’s temples and inner elbows,
leaving the broken loops glittering in the kitchen sink.
I am Jack’s first nosebleed. Incisors.
I have always thought teenagers were werewolves,
swelling and draining, blisters unsure
of how much love they can hold.
When I take out the trash I find eggshells of tissues,
shopping lists full of carving knives and duct tape.
We play roulette with this ephemeral sickness,
nursing cigarettes and bluffing on how long it lasts.
The beat starts under his Adam’s apple,
a bassline of beach houses and fresh paint.
The magnets buried in the girls in the taxicabs.
One day you take out the trash and find
hundreds of my revenge poems, black ink chalky
and sectioned into stanzas like Weston nudes.
The percent composition is too low to be yours,
you pull up the carpet, find the maps
I have made of your artria and ventricles
gathering dust in a pile of clipped perfume samples.
I am Jack’s all work. I am Jack’s no play.
I am the heart under Jack’s floorboards.
I am the knuckles on Jack’s door.
Why do you tag things with 'tw'?
"tw" stands for "trigger warning".
Its for people who go into panic attacks when they read/see certain stuff. When I write something that contains possibly triggering content, I tag it with a “tw” so people can block it.
You could probs just google “trigger warning” and it explains the thing a whole lot better than i do
❝ And God said “Love Your Enemy,” and I obeyed him and loved myself. ❞
20 ANSWERS I DO NOT HAVE QUESTIONS FOR
1. In the town of my birth, there is the body of a little girl buried beneath the playground next to the church.
2. I was born a January frozen, a pair of blue lips in a blizzard.
3. I have touched the memories so often they do not hurt anymore.
4. I have reoccurring dreams about boyscouts, wooden stairs, dark parking lots.
5. I have reoccurring nightmares about the same things.
6. I was born in a small town, surrounded by mountains that were either open arms or teeth.
7. I keep a shoebox under my bed. Inside is everything I want to forget.
8. When I left my hometown, I thought the mountains would hold me back or swallow me.
9. I keep a shoebox under my bed. Inside are his hands.
10. I’ve found that my voicebox is not in my throat, but in my wrists.
11. I keep a mason jar by my window. Inside is everything I can’t remember.
12. The only time I’ve ever been back is for a funeral.
13. I keep a mason jar by my window. Inside are his face, his name, the sound of his voice.
14. It has taken so long to convince myself that everyone’s hands are not his hands.
15. Repression is a bitch.
16. My silence is a shovel.
17. Every day I do not speak, another scoop of dirt.
18. I have been filling this grave for ten years.
19. I think that little girl is me.
20. I’ve buried her myself.
write a poem that you don't want to let anyone read, and then let us read it anyways
Sigh. I wrote about five drafts of this. I feel like this is one prompt i cant fill
I finally got around to writing this. Buckle up folks, it’s not v pretty