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i get intoxicated by the smell of
Sharpies at 2am and the sound of your voice
on the phone and you're so ******* tired but
you refuse to hang up first because of
some line you read in a book

we would be the perfect love story, we really would

because you're the one who laughs at my corny jokes
and you're the one who brings me chocolate when i'm sad
and you're the one who taught me how to write poems in a way
and
i love you so much but you must not see it

i thought it was a phase, i really did
and you probably think i'm over you
(because i told you that)
and sometimes I just wish that all hell would break loose
so that you could see how much you mean to me

*you always did have a thing for disasters;
blinding hurricanes of tears and imperfect tsunamis
of missed opportunities and lost love
fictional characters and i have a lot in common.
"The walls around me slowly close in threatening to crush me between my throes of guilt and shame"

Walls like towers
Made of questions of "why's"
And distorted old stories
That reach the sky
Bred of agony and despair
Watching you slowly die
Gone, as if you were never there
Don't suffer through the fate of lies
Scream out the rage and make yourself care


"A threshold where I fall off the edge just to find myself back on the verge"

A door like desperation
Walking through to whence you came
Revolving around, teasing your mind
Like a revolver with bullets of shame
Shooting you between the eyes, every time
Lodging in your brain
Never leaving, or something you can find
Opening and closing; playing you like a toy in a game
Break down the door, smash through to the other side
Tear it off the hinges, don't even save the frame


"I beat upon the glass to shatter it,
but find only my hope's breaking"

Windows like pictures
Of things in the past
That you can no longer have
How long can the struggle really last
Before your insides bubble, boil and burn with regret
Time to find a way around the pane, fast
As the windows gets smaller and you completely forget
All the good in life of your past
Calm yourself, release your guilt,
Don't let feelings of which you can't control amass


"It'll all come crashing down, how much can this brittle barrier bear before a familiar, fickle fate is found?"

A roof like design
Made of the limits you've thrown upon yourself
Images vivid, destructive and divine
Playing projections of depth and death
Inception in the back of your mind
Telling you you're simply not good enough
Rise up, reach out and surely you will find
You are truly made of stronger stuff


"
This is my house of Hell and Horror and to it, I will always belong. I never knew finding home could ever go so wrong"*

A *house
like hell
Horrors and demons of your scarred heart
Built up, surrounding you in agony and pain
Ripping out your core, tearing you apart
Sweltering in the heat of lies you contain
Never finding the ending, or where to restart
*Keep faith, light a fire, don't live in vain
Burn it, smoke out the truth and purify the hearth
Watch the flames destroy it all, until nothing remains
Look out to the world, at all that now surrounds you
And silently wait for the rain
Bold from: House of Hell and Horror 1-5 by Frank Ruland
For Frank's "Let's Do A Line!" challenge.
All these lines, plus all 5 poems in there entirity, truly meant a lot and struck deeply within me. If you like this even a little, please read Frank's "House of Hell and Horror" series. Thank you dearly Frank for writing them and the challenge which gave me the opportunity to post this. I hope you like it. <3
I feel so inexplicably vulnerable
I'm naked behind the fogged glass
The water running off my skin
Off in drips, in streams
I can see his silhouette on the other side
But can only imagine what he sees
I am so much more than naked, bare

He mutters shush, hissing like the snake he is
Through the water, steam, and fogged glass
I swear I see his lips curve into a distorted, manic grin
On the other side of the breakable barrier
I am just as equally breakable
I'm too afraid to move
Why are locked doors forbidden in this house
His hands lift and his fingers graze the glass
On the barrier he traces crooked lines
That bend and curve like I do
I can feel myself shaking
As lines create clear windows between us

And he stops
I feel faint, nauseous
His eyes are staring
And mine are tearing

When he leaves
I sink to the floor
The water running off my skin
Off in drips, in streams
Fiction based on true events.
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