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RevelationIt took you three months to burn a hole through my self-esteem with your acidic words. It took another three months for that hole to bind itself shut with new-found determination, one only found in the hearts of the abused.Revelation by EscapingEnnui
“How have you been?” you now ask, like you never burned the hole in the first place.
If only it were that simple.
But I can see through you, and I know my sanity’s highly flammable in your presence. I’m done looking back at your wavering flames. I’ve been burned too many times to count.
Here’s to that cool stream I may find one day, miles away from your forest fire.
Still the Same Girl (Revised)The Abyss was singing her to Its bedside tonight, unfolding black sheets into soft and smoky wisps. Let go, It hummed. You gave so much already. Come rest, Nami. There’s no sense in fighting it any longer.Still the Same Girl (Revised) by EscapingEnnui
A few steps away from Bell-mère's grave, Nami’s body stood in the moon’s pale and unflattering glow. Her mind, however, wandered elsewhere, opening fragile memories she swore she’d never touch again.
She drew in a sharp, cold breath and hung her head low. Nami was as worn as an old sail flapping limply on the high seas. Those fierce winds, once filling her with joy, now seeped through holes that had been torn through her spirit. Many had knifed Nami, but none so much as her sister. Nojiko’s last words weaved in and out of her head: “You're still the same girl.”
Nojiko. She couldn't have been more wrong than a rock with an eye patch. That so-called “girl" had perished with her mother, Bell-mère.
BubonicHe eludes the plague I am,Bubonic by EscapingEnnui
Running, soaring above me in a fear-frenzied flight,
Spitting disgust on my hair, face, arms, legs.
My puss-filled fingers latch the ground below,
Face tilted to his jeering calls, reflecting overcast shadows.
My eyes water in blurred and blinding sunlight,
My voice, coarse and thick: “Come back!”
But our love’s already slit its throat.
preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any