[x]

an artisti.

you said,
"artists only get paid to cut off their ears,
jump out windows,
commit seppuku with old butcher knives,
overdose and leave a note about how bad life felt,
step in front of trains,
or hang themselves from trees after parisian dealers reject them."

i wanted so badly to disagree,
but found myself unable to.

"i don't want that to be me," you said,
letting your artist hands go to waste.
"i'd hate myself and
just like van gogh, i'd die angry and miserable."

ii.

you said,
"it is so easy to be naked.
it is so easy.
but to be naked and unashamed,
that is something completely different."

i was beginning to le

james deansitting in the dark of my room,
candles lit and wishing i was still shy.
hair braided and silent,
washing off what i wish could be beautiful
to you.

-

it's the lies and laces
he fed to me
that makes me
just as bad as he

-

my drummer boy went and
eloped with a cinderella type
who prefers blunts over blondes
and jobs over school

-

he whispers she's going nowhere
but nowhere is here.
and where am i going?
when we're all tied in knots.

-

bad habits,
i thought was chewing too much gum,
spending on shoes or crushing too fast,
but i never realized it was
something more like deathsticks
and dry sex.

-

at least i learned

Of fairgrounds and childhood.she has ferris wheel eyes;
leaving you rising and falling in
colorful splender.
sunset blues and starry-smile silver
mixed with ohso subtle dollaps of
gold-frame capsules.
but Ferris wheels are
terrifying to your five year
old self who got stuck
right at the top.

you are scared of
falling (for her)
scared of the height,
scared that you might never
reach the ground again.
so you try not to look into
her eyes.

instead you study
her down-to-the-waist chesnut
curls that are currently wrapped
around your finger, around your
arm, your chest, your heart.
And you inhale her scent,
that apple shampoo;
coconut conditioner

hearts, cracks and lightbulbsi.
you,
believer in wishbones
stretching through cheeks
tell me,
that shattered pottery, falling stars and cracked windows
are not disalusioning.
you tell me that
there have to cracks
for the light to shine through.

am i beautiful?
am i bright?
I have grooves in my face
and lines in my arms
and i am trying to beam for
you.

ii.
everytime
he smiles at me
i am welcoming another parade of
holes in through the door
of my heart.

will love run in rivulets like
water, or slog through muscle
like london traffic. because
i have enough cracks now.
[too many for him
to ever love me.]

iii.
he has freshwater eyes
and the ab

missed callsonce upon a time,
he ran really fast
wanting to go somewhere

she chased for the sake of
leaving

he made her feel safe
like a little secret

but she was naive
and the only thing she knew
how to do was give everything
to someone who had nothing

so they switched places

the end

forgive menot all apologies are received
so you gotta pull a tswift sometimes
and write them a song or poem
in the smallest hope they'll at least
see it
hear it
feel it

my excuse:
i was a case of myself
and so burnt out that
i instantly hated anyone
that loved me

but i know
it doesn't justify
anything
especially
when that one
person was the one
friend who didn't
hurt you

ever

especially when
that one person
was your knight
and always had
a listening ear

i don't keep anyone close
i don't know how
and i'm mainly scared to

i didn't mean to leave you
that winter night
but i was selfish
and just wanted to be

alone

ironi

truth
i like to sit
on my pile of secrets
and pretend
i don't have any at all

no such thingi gotta wake up at 5
so i'll make this quick

i'm tired of being my own
best friend
when i don't even like myself

i'm tired of not knowing what
i want and being taken for granted

i'm tired

of being tired

Arsenic.i.

It's just like talking
to anyone else

ii.

I cried when you wrote
that, just like when
I took your letters
down, and when you
told me you didn't
love me, anymore

iii.

and, I cannot
find a method
to pretend that
you were just
some lover

iv.

there are people
who make me laugh
like you never did,
but

I do not feel safe
with any of them;

v.

and I thought
about falling into
your arms next
year, when you
come back,

imagined
remembering how
to feel at home
and then

remembered

vi.

in all senses
of the word,
you will not
come back
home

vii.

oh, you over think things

and maybe I do,
but the things
are you.

cheap whisky.instead of exchanging numbers
we exchanged horror stories
and compared our
drunken scars

[yours down your side
mine up my arms]

when i looked at you from a distance
i thought maybe you could
cut me open with
your cheekbones

[but you never were
so merciful]

and your eyes were as empty
as the bottles that we
clutched to gain the silver
that traced our bodies

[but the rest of you was full
of lossandloveandhateandblackness]

you said that there was lead in my veins
and you brought it to the boil
and i sat there burning
with bugs being drawn to me

[my destruction was more beautiful
than i ever could be]

i remember you hit me

la la lettersdear you.

i don't really know how to put this.
we can start with: i'm probably leaving you. and don't you dare say that i never cared. i've been numb the last couple days. people are willing to listen but i don't speak.

you spend your days away from me by talking about calling randoms to hear their voice, just to mutter a single word. as if that could keep you amused for days. showing that you care so much about a girl if she were to just... disappear. and i'm the only one who knows you have adhd. i'm the only girl you treat as replaceable. you'd rather be distracted by all the interesting options.

today a boy told me i was amazing. and i

Sometimes you're a daydream.I almost forgot you were here last night, until I climbed back into bed again and the sheets were tangled like trees beneath my duvet and the scent of your hair and the taste of your skin crawled into me through the depths of the pillow next to mine.

Your side of the bed is empty and the air in my room is still and I can almost feel the warmth of your fingertips on my waist.
But just almost.

And when the pain becomes too much, and I stumble out of bed into the cocoon of heavy night, I sit on the floor beneath the sink and try to touch reality again. What day is it really, what month, how many more sleeping pills will it take before I too c

heartbeathe's wearing
the smile i gave him
and i'm wearing his

white houses&
black markets

when i find you,
i call keeps.

I hope it's worth it when I'm gone.I can't even pretend things are simple anymore.

It's raining again, and with every crash of thunder, I miss you more than I can bear. I know it's not worth saying, because really nothing much is anymore, but it doesn't make it any less true.

It's eleven ten on a Friday night, and I'm sitting in the middle of the grass, watching the downpour spill off the roof. My t-shirt is clinging to my ribcage, and my hair is sticking to my face. I can feel the water running down the ridges of my spine, the backs of my hands, clumping in my eyelashes, but still, I don't move. Sometimes, when I can't stand what the world is doing anymore, I allow myself a

Unlike Other Childrenand then the words start winding around your hands again
(are you on fucking lsd? you can almost see
the doubts choking out his screams in the dark)
and you're yearning for another go at the
liquid courage above the refrigerator but you gave yourself a
stern talking-to last time and you'd rather not endure that again
but you so so so want to breathe, these flagstones
don't go down easy, and no one is willing to answer your
emergency call, the only one you've made so far
homework, she mutters, ashamed of your habits
bed, cries your fellow amnesiac, beaten herself
the last one won't even answer your pathetic hands
no, this is the last time you think to education
that education can save you;
where was education when you were trying out curses
only to save yourself from filling the third grade classroom with
drowning pools?
where was education when you didn't understand
why people could dismiss you so, another textbook to be studied?
where was education

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More from ~sioraine

her shooting star.                   once upon a time...

there was a girl.

      she never danced along the milky way.
she never trapped any stars in her web of hair.
      she never ran away with a shooting star.
            [although he's tempted her to]

                  &#

honey blonde artist.she is
honey blonde,
petite with style.

she's an artist by nature.

&
she paints the world by
miniature portraits.

[and she paints them
with new found colours]

&
she'll hold your hand,
pulling you along
to street fairs with bright
pumpkin lanterns.

&
full house ballets with
elephants prancing
about in faerie pink tutus.

&
her mind wheels cranking,
to create the world with
new smiles.

i can't quite figure out what
happens underneath the quirky
faces and smiles she makes.
but i know,

her intentions are good
&
she is a beautiful girl.

the girl on the moon.she's not a person.

she's just a girl. crying.

no, it doesn't hurt.

no, she won't remember in the morning.

yes, this will impact her later on in life.

she's just a crying girl.

there isn't a clear definition of what she's mourning about. but she's sad. and she knows she doesn't cry about plain nothing's. no. she cries about something's. she shouldn't, but she does.

she's wondering if, just if, breaking hearts or being heart-broken is one and the same and if it's worth it. why do people take chances when they know what the most-likely outcome is?

she stops for a second and pulls the blue and white blanket up towards her chest, slowing

things i want:things i want:

01. your words.
they hurt, but onlyverysoftly,
similiar to menstrual pains. i'll be in silent agony for two
and a half hours, wishing it away, but waiting for a new wave
of it because i've always been told that feeling something
is better than nothing.

stuck.

[yeah, i'm talking about the unspoken words,
i'm talking about the silence]

02. your thoughts.
i want them. i want to know what's going on
behind that beautiful smile of yours. there's more to you
than anyone can see from the outside looking in. and i
really just want to be on the inside looking out.

[but you don't want me to know a thing,
so leave you a

lost my consonants.lost my consonants.

i'm leaking acid into my tea, desperately
seeking an answer from the swollen leaves.
i want to know how this will turn out.

my heart's pumping out nonsense feelings
with every word. useless vowels mix together
to spell out a future that's just as clear.

[i'm missing consonants]

i'm in a bad mood right now. it's a sorry excuse for having a foul tongue.
but i'm in a bad mood.
&#

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[x]

ever after

by ~sioraine, Mar 12, 2012, 12:58:45 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

my mother hasn't told me she loved me
since.

since i can't remember if she ever
did.

i used to write about silver things and magic strings
that tied hearts and eyes and stars to your sins

i wrote a song for you

pink and raw, cut and purple
i'm inside drowning myself

i'm kinda sad

but i'm still okay

funny how things grow
to die

i've been burning the life out of myself
worse than the muses wasting their talents
on heavy smoke

you stood there,
while i watched

and it was late

but i already knew

that no matter how much i bled myself
it wouldn't let the poison out

it wouldn't let me breathe

-

so afraid of the little things
that i got homesick of feelings
and overdosed on emptiness

in the pit of my stomach,
i thought i had nothing

but i had hope in my pandora
box and although i can barely
function in this little disaster
casing, i know

there's a reason
i'm here

i live through missed calls
and broken-hearts mending
unplanned shocks and protective
walls

but deep deep down
i'm still me

i will always love
summer breezes and
thick thunderstorms,
nonsense and blue eyes

i'll have a soft spot for
hard people and secretly think
love will always prevail,
i will love even if i don't always
receive it back
and be emotional and weak
then happy and sad

i will be me, ever after
and i will be okay

i know,

just because

ever afterby ~sioraine

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 ~sioraine

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~moon-lit-words Mar 19, 2012 Student Writer

i'm glad i follow you

Reply

~sioraine Jun 3, 2012

Reply

~moon-lit-words Jun 4, 2012 Student Writer

'tis true. i'll read the newest six this coming week

Reply

~Spurrr Mar 12, 2012 Student Writer

Beautifully written, as always. c: ♥

Reply

~sioraine Mar 12, 2012

aw, thank you <3 miss you mandy.

Reply

~Spurrr Mar 13, 2012 Student Writer

<33 you're welcome. I miss you, too.

Reply

Mood: Zest

~doublethefun Mar 12, 2012

I love it!! It's so multidimensional. Great work.

Reply

~sioraine Mar 12, 2012

thank you so much <3

Reply

~little-swift Mar 12, 2012 Student Writer

this is beautiful.
"funny how things grow
to die"
that killed me, right there. that's gorgeous.

Reply

~sioraine Mar 12, 2012

ugh,
you're gorgeous.
thanks lady.
<3

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