A Hostage to HerTRIGGER WARNING. EDA Hostage to Her by BloodshotInk
I was crying so hard that the tears were pooling in my ears as she held my chin back. My eyes and nose streamed and meant I choked for breath around each new handful. I'd like to say she was methodical, orderly. But she was not. She had a surgical tray of containers and ripped heartfuls out of them at random. Pressing her hand down over my mouth so that mashed potato filled my mouth and I had to swallow it to breathe. I gagged and writhed under her hands but she held me down until my mouth was clear enough for oxygen and then as I inhaled and coughed as potato tried to get into my lungs her left hand would press down with something else.
It wasn't always like that. Sometimes she'd hold my nose and press my tongue down, tipping vodka directly over my tonsils. Sometimes she'd let me have little pauses to cry. Most of the time though she would go too fast, force too much into my small, convulsing throat, and I would vomit. My body rejecting her attack. It wasn't
TakenIt was just a strategic readjustment.Taken by BloodshotInk
It was just a necessary tactical move.
It was just your finger moving half an inch left
and curling slightly.
It was just the centimeter or two of difference
between the moment that just was,
and the one that is,
but you reached for my hand
and you took my heart.
You gotta believe meI'm a mistakeYou gotta believe me by BloodshotInk
and you see, it's not self harming.
I'm just trying to do the corrections by myself.
I'm trying to write over the past
Retrace my steps and start from a place that's better,
But at the end
of the night I'm just covered in dirty
// lines and crossed xX/x through
that didn't give me anything.
but I am still trying.
You gotta believe me, I am
and this isn't self harm sweetheart,
this is self-loathing.
The Queen and The DukeFlower crown'd,The Queen and The Duke by BloodshotInk
and sleepy in the midsummer;
kind of life.
Sun presses firm
against soft skin
jealously trying to get between.
another of this
kind of day.
Star-shot Ink"Are you gonna write poetry about me," she asked.Star-shot Ink by BloodshotInk
"you going to write about this?" -
she wanted poems and sonnets and songs -
and I had no idea if she wanted me.
If it was worth the paper it was written on.
But I gave it to her anyway because some girls
some girls deserve to have epic tales of their perfection
scrawled across their spines.
Some girls deserve bleeding the light out of a star
and turning it into ink so you can tattoo "you're fucking incredible" on their wrists so they won't forget even in the darkness - some girls deserve stars, and forgetting how to punctuate, to breathe, around them.
She makes me forget how to breathe / comma /
she makes me forget.
I gave it to her anyway;
the chaos that comes from papercuts all over
from having tried to wrestle down the stars for her:
to be a spilled, pale imitation on paper, of her.
I'll give it to her anyway
because some girls deserve poetry,
and some one has to write it, even if its only me for now,
and the pai
Kings of SummerThey weave flower stems into crownsKings of Summer by BloodshotInk
because even though they know
that although all things will come to pass
there is beauty to be stripped from the now.
They let the weeds scratch
tattoos into their flesh as they braid,
because its better to feel the pain
than to let go completely.
They let soil turn fingerbed to flowerbed
because being a vehicle for beauty
is better than being nothing at all to it
and even corpses give of themselves to the roses.
They give themselves up to the earth
to nourish an ephemeral beauty
because they haven't yet noticed
that they are themselves the beautiful they seek.
Once Bitten, Twice ShyWhen you kissed me, I believed,Once Bitten, Twice Shy by BloodshotInk
for a splinter of a moment, I did.
When you snapped your teeth shut
around my tongue,
when you tugged your head back
and rammed my shoulders
with the heels of your hands to jolt us apart
when you clicked
those crimson stubs closed again
over the vulnerable chunk of meat
I'd foolishly granted you access to -
when you did all of this
biting through tendon and taste buds
until finally you got what I wanted in the first place,
me spilling my heart to you,
all over your precious white rug,
but I knew, before my heart cracked
trying to pump air to my disorientated thoughts,
I knew I shouldn't have said anything at all.
NestingBones dislocate from rawened socketsNesting by BloodshotInk
as the perception of self is wrenched and wrecked aside.
Rib-bones snap and contract sharply concave:
they form a brackenell nest of the interlocking twig fingers
of mothers, of sisters, of brothers and starlight –
the defences set in sticks, in stones, in love, bend
and readjust to allow the shards of cartilage to slip inside
and pierce through a tough exterior, to the heart of the matter.
Dislocate everything and reassemble it differently
because we, ( I ), we, see what you might not;
you’re fucking beautiful.
CracksHead hung beneath the waterCracks by BloodshotInk
the weary willow starts to weep;
breathes antatox and aciphel
and yearns to go to sleep.
Limbs wriggle their reflections
and bubbles fizzle in the eyes
as the trees back breaks, it cracks, it droops;
another wasted willow dies.