Photo by Jairo Alzate on Unsplash

It was all in a dream
A hope rising the surface,
Bubbling to the top.
It was all in a dream,
To be loved and safe.
To be expansive; her heart was not guarded,
Her body was not held in a box.

She woke to solitude,
The dream sweet in her mouth.
She held her breath,
For fear of expelling that security.

When she was almost ready, she opened her eyes,
She let out her breath,
The fragrance lingering and dissipating quickly,
As if it never existed at all.
I don’t belong here, she thought,
I am out of place, all wrong, always stumbling.
For I…

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

It wasn’t your fault, she said.
But why did you go to his apartment, he said.
You didn’t ask for it, she told me.
But how you walk is suggestive, they yelled.
He abused his power, she told me,
But you’re my doll, he whispered.
Pretty, sexy doll.

I moved when you told me to.
And now I’m stuck in a pit of dirt, inhaling clumps into my lungs.
What happened floods my body, but I am on fire.
Please splash water on me.
You took my voice,
My body said.
I am on a bed of nails and you press me down.
You can see the…

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I am waiting to see you,
Your words flow from your lips, smoothly dripping,
I feel them with my teeth
Like pearls, they’re beautiful
I swallow

They shatter and the sharpness cuts my belly on the way down.
I am bleeding out and you are standing there and you are watching me.
And I am watching you and waiting for you to do something, anything, to make this pain stop.

You licked your lips and stood there and you watched me and you watched me.
Because you wanted more of me.
You wanted to consume me until I became a…

Photo by Isabella and Zsa Fischer on Unsplash

I closed myself off.
I became small.
I was a statue, forcibly frozen.
The sin of a single bite.

Pray for us sinners now, and at this hour of death,
For I am frail and let me hate myself/humble myself/die to myself
Grace upon grace,

I lie on green pastures// this sinful world.
A scarlet letter, deliver me from evil,
Through bleeding lips, you pull out words
yes, yes, yes.

Your fingers pluck them. They aren’t mine anymore,
I can’t breathe;
I’m dying,
Just like she said happened to her.

But what do I get?
My statue is chipped and tarnished.

Photo by Tolga Ulkan on Unsplash

She told me to imagine my life two ways,
One happy,
The other tragic.
And I thought and I thought.
Because I cannot imagine a world in which both do not occur
And I’m not so sure I’d like them separate.
For the greatness of pain does not allow me to forget the deepest wounds.
Perhaps those are ones impossible to treat.
They remain open, raw,
A nerve exposed.
Learning to live with that pain is something I must do.
Because, yes, living can hurt, and breathing through those hardships feels like inhaling deep underwater,
But my darkest moments sit side by side with lightness.
Those moments where I am in love and…

Elyse Wright

I can’t stop writing about love and love and love. I’ve been writing poems since I could talk. Welcome to my corner. 💜POMpoet💜

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