My body (or: a year and a half later)

(x)

from my skin:

keep me to yourself
stop letting them scratch me
pinch me
slap me
touch me
stop letting them touch me
stop letting them fucking touch me

from my brain:

you smell like him
you smell like cheap cologne
your puffy eyes are your own fault
you couldnt keep yourself to yourself
you didnt ask him to stay
you didnt want him to stay
you said its what you wanted
its not his fault
he doesnt know
that there are pieces to pick up now
you can still taste him in your mouth
you dont even know his name

from my bones:

its your fault i feel bruised
its your fault
you asked for it
everything he did you asked for
its not his fault you regret it
you asked for the backseat of his car
he gave it to you
he gave it to you
you asked him to touch you
he gave it to you

from my heart:

i thought i told you to listen to me
you ignored me when i told you
not to do this


--erin

3 am messes (a letter to my head)

i won't turn the light on, but neither will you.

you're crawling between the pages and i can't find it in myself to stop you.

you tell me there's a galaxy in my eyes before you press a nail into my heart.
you tell me that red shows more than black and white.

you tell me that the freckles on my shoulders are the constellations the night forgot,
but you watch me fall with the setting sun.

you're the reason i'm dragging this pen across the paper
until i forget where i end and the lines begin.

you tell me to be a forever in the ocean.
you tell me to be an ant in the world.

you call me cold,
you call me hard,
you call me a question no one cares enough to answer.

you tell me to laugh,
you tell me to smile,
you tell me to ask the question no one cares enough to answer.

weave yourself into my chest like a ribbon
and wrap around my heart,
because if it won't listen,
you can at least make sure it doesn't speak.

you always call it incoherent,
but it least it's never lied to me.

i want you to control my arms
my legs
my neck
my eyes
because at least this way i can pretend i'm telling you to.

the sidewalks keep cracking,
but you tell me to walk.


i know i can't save myself,

but i didn't ask you to, either.


--erin

(this page was actually written at three am, which explains the illegibility)

wanderinglusting

(origin: this was "ode to summertime insomnia" and then i revised it over the summer so that i could read it at sfys. original is here. i just thought you guys might want to read the slam version of it.)

darling,
i came to tell you that
the days will become longer than our legs and the nights will belong more to laughter than to heavy eyelids.

and we can roast our hearts over the campfire, 

but they'll never understand why we fear obscurity more than death.

the stars read our tears and they tell us that wanderlust was always a myth.

and i can tell you that we'll all find polaris eventually

but you'll know that north may never be the way home,

and i'll know that home is only where the heart is until it gets sick of our indecision.

but it's okay.
it's okay, sweetheart, because we'll go south and southwest.
we'll go to the places that no one cares enough to dream about
because we'll know that they're ours. 

we can make new dreams
and create magic in the sand.

we'll paint with our hearts
because we believe in the forgotten.

so let's make our souls out of sea glass
and laugh when they don't understand

why we call them beautiful.

we've never been decisive about what comes next, but it doesn't matter.
our feet have minds of their own, anyway.

and i know.
i know that certainty lies in bed with confusion, 

but i know that their skin never touches while the world calls our tongues unstable.

so, ask more questions and get fewer answers.
i'll call it serendipity
because you've always loved simplicity.

and i know it hurts, dear.
i know it hurts,
because i can feel it.

so tell santa claus your desires, because he'll never laugh at the five-year-old's questions
and he'll never get tired of you asking for a bandaid for your heart.

it'll heal, sweetie. 
you'll heal,

because the stars still shine when there are clouds

and your heart still sings when it's broken.

you inhale truth like a child, 
and that's okay.

you only expel CO2 and a wish for the genie you never believed would grant it, 
but that's okay, too.

i'm telling you now, because i wish that someone had told me

that the clouds will never be obsolete 
and all you've ever wanted was to fly.

but, love, i'm no romantic,

and dreams are for the peaceful,

so enjoy them for me while you can.

please, please, please,

enjoy them while you can.

--erin