#blackcatpoetry

[poetrylifesblood]

[blackcatpoetry]

I do not fall asleep Nor do I pass out I do something in between I lay my head on the pillow and I do not dream

Once I am awake I am okay That too will pass I will not feel it until more than half of the day is gone Then it is in my gut And in my chest and in my throat and in my lungs I will swallow it whole It is the only way I know I will clench my jaw just like I am told not to When it has spread through my entire body And I cannot believe I am not crying

It still does not fall asleep Nor does it pass out It does something in between It settles in my body and it does not scream

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

And I am loved I am loved And I am loved

But it is not real It is seashells on the beach It is pretty but it leaves

With the ocean; like a surprise everyone else saw coming Or collected; calmly somebody picks it up and brings it home I am a beach and the seashells love me For I am pretty when the sun sets But the rest of the time

I am just dirt under your fingernails I am just an itch in your eye I am just too real

And it leaves It leaves And it leaves

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

I am the interplay between the light and the leaves. I am the faint singing in the trees. I am the morning sun and the breeze. I am the way she smiles when she leaves.

[Komorebi]

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

People like to say that we have all done unforgivable things. This doesn’t help because they do not understand you. They say it more to comfort themselves than to comfort eachother.

People like to say that none of us stay innocent. This doesn’t help because they also like to say that the crimes they don’t have to live with are worse than the ones that they do.

People like to say someone loves you anyway. This doesn’t help because with that they tell you only someone who doesn’t know your sins will stay. This means they do not forgive you.

(Yes, people are like that, mostly.)

People like to name the bad parts of themselves monsters. They say: not me. not me. someone else. it was someone else. a monster. it was a monster. not me. not me. i did my best to fight it.

(Yes, people are like that, mostly. They like to be victims, mostly.)

But let me say this: I didn’t fight it.

There is no monster. There is just me.

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

If there were to be a bird chippering in a garden, would that mean the winter wasn’t all about the cold and the dying?

If a cat were to rip this bird open leaving no difference between the blood and the dirt, would that make me a bad person for relating less to the bird?

If the bird were to look just like the bird who died in a pair of soft hands in my livingroom last summer, would that mean those same soft hands had to stop themselves from crying today?

And if those soft hands were to cry everytime a bird like these birds were to die, would that mean she also doesn’t eat when birds like these birds can’t find seeds?

What I am asking is, if I were to remind my mother to feed the birds, would it make a difference?

[a bird heart at a rate of knots]

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

I am going to believe it was all a lie as a method of survival.

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

Sometimes people look at me and they see some kind of love Love like please hold my heart for me while I cry in your arms They see love but I fear I am all blood Blood like your heart is smeared all over the bathroom tiles and it’s my fault I am more villain than people say I am My hands are stained with heartbreak of the lovers who deemed my palms a safe place I didn’t mean for them to be so wrong

The girl I loved first was the colour of shy We were big first love but we grew bigger than the room where our love lived I grew out of her life Her colour grew high When I came back I had grown harder and spirals had grown within her And whilst she likes to think they have no control over her she can’t pretend that she doesn’t know We both have too much growing to do alone

There was a boy I called my best friend He wasn’t exactly the same colour as me But it was close enough to leave all filters at the door Since he’s gone I’ve been thinking maybe we’re not the same colour at all Maybe he just carries jars of paint in the back if his car If I never know for sure I will pretend he never meant much to me Eventually no one will know I’m lying

The closest thing to a person I’ve had since him is a girl the colour of the dying parts of me We are all cocktails and cookies and fighting hard for who we are I wonder if she needs this as much as I do Even though she’s the colour of the deep dark sea She doesn’t drown people like I do Or maybe she does and maybe she helped me bury the bodies Maybe she’s knows something you don’t 

The last one in the process of breaking my heart is the colour of honeysuckle and sunrises I look at her and can’t help but to hope I am looking at a bright future I don’t need to remind myself that honeysuckle can also break a heart Therefore I never pretend she doesn’t love somebody else That would only intensify the bleeding Instead I smile for the camera and pretend I’m not thinking to myself I wish she would look at me and see love like everyone else

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

And when somebody says something between us is over but the sun still sets like it used to

I keep myself warm.

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

As I stand still In ways I have not stood still since the traincrash and the stabwounds Collecting the breaths that got out along the way Grasping after what I don’t want to admit as lost Something unsettles within me I begin to unravel And the parts of me that no one ever loved                                              Become aware of how they were never loved The silence they make upon this realization                                               Is synonym with all the questions they don’t know how to ask I can feel it trembling in my chest And then they start to die Or they start to kill To them there is a difference I never want to notice when something is dying But isn’t something always dying Somehow I always live There are sweatdrops trickling down my heaving chest I have worked so hard to feel anything but this.

[The Backyard is a Long Way From Home]

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

Pining isn’t a good idea (not that it’s something you pick)

Over and over again wanting someone and someone and someone

Longing isn’t a good option (not that it’s something you choose)

[you and you and don’t you ever  want something just ‘cause it feels good?]

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

You lose things

They get lost

They weren’t meant to get lost

But one day you realize they are not there anymore

And they will not come back

So you learn to live without them

There is no other choice, really.

[b-sides and rarities: the trinkets & past loves that got lost out at sea]

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

You didn’t leave a hole in my heart just yet

Instead you left a sign that read

Away for an undecided amount of time

But you  still show up sometimes

Just to check that your stuff’s still there

Like I’m this vacant apartment

In a city you don’t quite want to live in anymore

[vacant apartement]

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

For a split second I thought I could have it all

I’ve never been so wrong

When something arrives prepare for that something is leaving

She’s here now, you’re not

For a split second there I really thought I could have it all

[split second]

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

Coffee is just another safe word for getting by

Cigarettes is just another safe word for not succeeding

Shattered dishes is just another safe word for broken hearted

Okay is just another safe word for exhausted

E.D - blackcatpoetry

[blackcatpoetry]

I’m going out of fashion

E.D - blackcatpoetry