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A Pillow, A Couch, A Suicide Dream
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A Pillow, A Couch, A Suicide Dream

Poem By Iulia Hulea

i hate this couch i'm sitting on;
it holds all of my suicidal thoughts
and it reeks of gasoline
the roses embroidered on the pillows
look withered, fragile
i used to water them nights on end
with all the tears i tried to hold back
until i decided to let the flood
get out of my eyes, soak up the floor
i hate this couch i'm sitting on,
'cause it's the only place where
you would stay and wait for me
to lovingly claw at your neck
and lick the blood out of my nails
i wish i strangled you while you were asleep,
but you broke all my bones instead
like i was made of styrofoam and ugly cries,
waiting to choke on my own spit
i know that my mom liked you the most
but i still hoped she'd die of this love
that wasn't even meant for me
i hate this couch i'm sitting on;
it used to hold all of my happy thoughts,
until you pushed your body onto it
and traced its bloody thorns
and now i just sit on the ashy carpet,
chewing on my nails, biting at my tongue
on the wall in front of me i see
my grandpa's portrait
and it throws daggers at my chest
i sometimes wish i didn't have to exist

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

Such a nice poem, Lulia. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.