To those who changed their minds today despite the great pain they are in, every single person who will love you in the future just breathed a massive sigh of relief. Thank you for staying.
—  Thank You for Staying | Nikita Gill

Be my muse.
And I will paint your skin
with different hues 
because, baby,
you are my paragon
and the artwork that I will paint
over and over and over again.

Let me travel over 
your whole soul and body
that no one has ever dared
to touch, trace and memorise
but me.
Reveal to me your weak spots
and allow me to unveil
how I will treat each scar,
white marks, birth mark and wounds
like those are your best flaws
that I have seen in my entire life.

Be my muse
and I’ll show you what it’s like
to be loved endlessly.

—  vegaaskies

if we’re being truthful: your brown hairs are everywhere.
i have a collection of your eyelashes underneath
my bed and your dandruff coats my bookshelves
like takeout boxes. it took me months
to wash my sheets after you slept in them.
i only did when i threw up all over my comforter
and burned a cigarette hole in my mattress.

i guess i have this issue called “can’t let go of shit.”
i deleted all of your text messages but still
look at the screenshots in my photo album.
my therapist told me i have got to stop
checking up on your social media accounts.
she talked about this thing called “independence”
and said i have this thing called a “dependent
personality” and it made me want to
brush my teeth out with your tongue.

i tried. i tried really hard not to care that
your sister got a new apartment and
your mom planted new buds in your rose garden
and your girlfriend is as pretty as ever.
i cut all ties, stopped driving by her house at night,
went weeks without remembering your face,
but every hangover ends in relapse.

i stopped going to my therapist because
she would tell me it’s not healthy for you to
seep into my veins like this, pounding imprints
in my mind like bare feet slapping against concrete.
i have to let your memory die, but i don’t know
how to rid you except to write you out of me.

so i yell into my pillows and i run up on mountains
and i scream that i loved and i lost on rooftops.
and “i love you” says a whole hell of a lot more
about me than it will ever say about you, so i won’t
worry about what your scarred ego will think.

and i will use these wounds to carve
love letters in my skin. it takes great strength
to face your problems head on every single day.
so i guess if this is unhealthy, well, so be it.
—  the sixth diary entry i kept locked up in the floorboards / scarredconversations
sometimes i have to write you all down because if i keep you inside my head my thoughts of you start to eat away at my brain until every inch is consumed by you and how much i love you and how much i hate you and how my skin still burns when i think about all of the different ways that you touched me and it drives me crazy but not in the good way, not in the way that they say true love makes you mad, it’s the kind that makes you pick at your skin just to make sure you’re still alive
She Didn’t Let Go

“Can we go back to where we’ve been before?”

Your voice rings in my head
hypnotizing my brain
making my heart cringe
in longing, love, fear.

Our story? What was it again?

It was me having lung cancer
and you, smoking nicotine.
It was me with brain tumor
and you, being the tumor.
It was me, bleeding
and you, sucking.
It was me, crying
and you, laughing.

And you ask me to go back
where I’ve suffered with your love?
Can I? Can you let me love you?
Will you let me show you
how my love never wavered?

© 2015 Coleen Elloso

at times like this I
get so fucking
needy - suffocate
in it, hide away
shut away
for some “shut eye”,
some quiet time
some “child minded” comfort
swathed in blankets - “duvet
love, I miss ya,
I miss kissing ya
I’m scared of breaking up”
song trills to a
standstill, but still
I’m lying
watching days blur
into nights - the sun
has to set
sometime, but still
I live in fear
addicted to progress
wanting the mostest, and
that’s not a word but
I’m fucking Shakespeare
and you can take that in
whichever connotation
you choose, I and it and me
are indistinguishable -
we are yours
to use

tell me
you want it,
tell me
you own it,
now tell me
you’ve outgrown it
and I’ll show you
here - baby, it
won’t leave, and baby
ain’t it funny
that baby
is a term
of love
and possession -
my baby, get your
hands off, don’t touch,
don’t ruin - to her
you remain


/ I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying anymore but I say it anyway /


Descend, Descend oh
righteous one
heavy in your
fall from Grace.

Tumble slowly, drifting
down to the
underbelly of the
where darkness waits
& evil lurks.

to the belly of the world,
the belly of the
beast, descend.

Oh daughter, daughter
Sea-glass eyes,
wheat curled hair and
voice of smoke.

to the smoke you
return to be
reborn all
leonine grace &
quiet power.

Descend & be reborn
from the fires
below the earth.

Descend & be renewed.

Do not fear, oh righteous one.

You will be victorious

—  Satan will not hold her tongue
Did you really expect her to stay? Her bones were too big for the space you were trying to put her in, and she has never been in the habit of breaking her bones to fit into confined places. She left because she deserves to be loved as a whole.
—  You Should Have Loved Her As She Was | Nikita Gill