Submissions by tea_for_bee (Bella C.)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
DRUGS POEM
Published
17th Aug 2022 9:31am
17th Aug 2022 9:31am
Reason 4
Her lips always tasted of resin.
Her breath reeked of booze masked with seven
Eleven slushies, cherry ice-
She learned her lesson
And learned it hard,
Learned it twice..
… Three times …
…Maybe four.
She couldn’t bare to keep count anymore.
Her skin was wrapped poorly around an ever changing frame
No matter what she did
She never saw herself the same.
Weight gain,
Weight loss.
Now she’s all tossed
And wrecked with sad scars
From unused dental floss.
The strong scent
In downtown bars,
Thick in...
Her breath reeked of booze masked with seven
Eleven slushies, cherry ice-
She learned her lesson
And learned it hard,
Learned it twice..
… Three times …
…Maybe four.
She couldn’t bare to keep count anymore.
Her skin was wrapped poorly around an ever changing frame
No matter what she did
She never saw herself the same.
Weight gain,
Weight loss.
Now she’s all tossed
And wrecked with sad scars
From unused dental floss.
The strong scent
In downtown bars,
Thick in...
#alcohol
#drugs
319 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Aug 2022 9:27am
17th Aug 2022 9:27am
Reason 7
I think I’ll just lay here for a bit..
There’s no use in picking up the pieces
Just to watch them
Fall apart again.
Together
They’re distorted
I don’t know what I look like..
I don’t know who I am..
But I know I’m done trying so hard
For the boy
Who will never love me,
Again,
The way that
I love him.
So I’ll sit here and watch
The little pieces of me
Break a little more
In the absence of my heart
That will forever belong to you,
And I’ll cry a few tears,
And drink two beers..
Or maybe...
There’s no use in picking up the pieces
Just to watch them
Fall apart again.
Together
They’re distorted
I don’t know what I look like..
I don’t know who I am..
But I know I’m done trying so hard
For the boy
Who will never love me,
Again,
The way that
I love him.
So I’ll sit here and watch
The little pieces of me
Break a little more
In the absence of my heart
That will forever belong to you,
And I’ll cry a few tears,
And drink two beers..
Or maybe...
#breakup
275 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
12th May 2022 6:52pm
12th May 2022 6:52pm
A Sonnet to My Killer
There’s something about crying
In the arms of the person who hurt you.
If you were dying,
Would you crave the warmth of your killer, too?
Would your last breath
Be heavy with his name,
Though he was unphased by your death?
While you took the blame.
Would you cradle his head
As he filled your wounds with salt
Or would you see red
As he told you it was your fault.
Would you still desire him so,
If you hadn’t let all the pain go?
In the arms of the person who hurt you.
If you were dying,
Would you crave the warmth of your killer, too?
Would your last breath
Be heavy with his name,
Though he was unphased by your death?
While you took the blame.
Would you cradle his head
As he filled your wounds with salt
Or would you see red
As he told you it was your fault.
Would you still desire him so,
If you hadn’t let all the pain go?
#heartbroken
#bittersweet
#manipulation
376 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
24th Mar 2022 1:54am
24th Mar 2022 1:54am
The Suicide of a Gifted Child.
She woke up in the mornings and wiped the mascara from her face.
Start fresh.
She forces makeup to her skin, tissues under her eyes so it doesn’t run.
She lifts something vile to her lips,
She takes a puff.
Be careful they said,
She ignored them and
Breathed in what she was smart enough to know she shouldn’t.
She tried to quit
She couldn’t.
I won’t get addicted,
She said.
She avoids bread.
I won’t get addicted
She said
...
Start fresh.
She forces makeup to her skin, tissues under her eyes so it doesn’t run.
She lifts something vile to her lips,
She takes a puff.
Be careful they said,
She ignored them and
Breathed in what she was smart enough to know she shouldn’t.
She tried to quit
She couldn’t.
I won’t get addicted,
She said.
She avoids bread.
I won’t get addicted
She said
...
#teens
#death
#SelfHarm
#addiction
#EatingDisorder
629 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Mar 2022 1:41am
24th Mar 2022 1:41am
Butterfly Grenades
You gave an 18 year old a gun and said aim for an artery.
Now he sits and drinks and aims for butterflies that remind him of grenades.
You gave a boy, fresh out of school, a tool. And with it, the responsibility of God.
Imagine, a boy with one chest hair and a wadded piece of gum for a brain.
A patchy little beard because he can’t grow a whole one.
He gave the birds refuge but you can’t sit there.
Who lives.
What lives.
He feels the thick, rusty, gun powder, musty scent...
Now he sits and drinks and aims for butterflies that remind him of grenades.
You gave a boy, fresh out of school, a tool. And with it, the responsibility of God.
Imagine, a boy with one chest hair and a wadded piece of gum for a brain.
A patchy little beard because he can’t grow a whole one.
He gave the birds refuge but you can’t sit there.
Who lives.
What lives.
He feels the thick, rusty, gun powder, musty scent...
#war
#PTSD
216 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Mar 2022 11:21pm
2nd Mar 2022 11:21pm
Abnormal Galaxy
Do the galaxies ever rip themselves to pieces?
Break themselves apart?
Do they worry they spread too far?
Do they spin when they don’t want to burn anymore?
Or is this one different?
This one floods itself.
A whirlpool,
Watch it spiral.
It slowly mixes in tabs
And an earthy ounce of denial.
But do the others adore what they were dealt?
Do the others not try to weld their bones
Like metal
Wrapped in felt?
Is this one just so broken
From worsening inner health?
Break themselves apart?
Do they worry they spread too far?
Do they spin when they don’t want to burn anymore?
Or is this one different?
This one floods itself.
A whirlpool,
Watch it spiral.
It slowly mixes in tabs
And an earthy ounce of denial.
But do the others adore what they were dealt?
Do the others not try to weld their bones
Like metal
Wrapped in felt?
Is this one just so broken
From worsening inner health?
#alcohol
#drugs
#marijuana
380 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Feb 2022 10:12am
10th Feb 2022 10:12am
Hashtag Masterpiece
My beautiful masterpiece,
I say smiling down at a painting.
My beautiful, hashtag masterpiece.
And the hashtag takes away the feeling.
Sharing it with the world,
With people who don’t understand the meaning.
Pretty colors.
Pretty words.
It’s a curse.
Making something so meaningful,
To have it demeaned by a hashtag.
To have it stripped of its worth,
Of its soul.
Of MY soul.
My beautiful,
(Hashtag)
Masterpiece.
I say smiling down at a painting.
My beautiful, hashtag masterpiece.
And the hashtag takes away the feeling.
Sharing it with the world,
With people who don’t understand the meaning.
Pretty colors.
Pretty words.
It’s a curse.
Making something so meaningful,
To have it demeaned by a hashtag.
To have it stripped of its worth,
Of its soul.
Of MY soul.
My beautiful,
(Hashtag)
Masterpiece.
#LifeAsAWriter
232 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
10th Feb 2022 10:08am
10th Feb 2022 10:08am
My Name
The name that was given to me came with a standard that I do not uphold. It feels like cardboard, boxing me into femininity. My nickname doesn't suit me any better. “Bella” (and we can silence the a) rings in my ear, and is followed by words that I don’t want to pay attention to.
My dad named me Isabella, in hopes of a beautiful, dainty, passive daughter. Instead he got me. And though he loves me nonetheless, I can’t help but notice the silent disappointment in his eyes. When we were little, we were threatened with “etiquette school” when we “weren't acting like nice young ladies.” Young...
My dad named me Isabella, in hopes of a beautiful, dainty, passive daughter. Instead he got me. And though he loves me nonetheless, I can’t help but notice the silent disappointment in his eyes. When we were little, we were threatened with “etiquette school” when we “weren't acting like nice young ladies.” Young...
#identity
#myself
271 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
28th Jan 2022 7:59am
28th Jan 2022 7:59am
Grandma’s drapes
Breeches of breathing
Among the wounds it gapes
Holding breath as to not
Startle grandmother’s drapes.
Those ditsy floral drapes
Will soon drape my body.
Will soon wrap it
In a scene ungodly.
We are just people
In ditsy, dusty floral drapes.
In shallow, bunk bed graves.
Among the wounds it gapes
Holding breath as to not
Startle grandmother’s drapes.
Those ditsy floral drapes
Will soon drape my body.
Will soon wrap it
In a scene ungodly.
We are just people
In ditsy, dusty floral drapes.
In shallow, bunk bed graves.
#dark
#death
348 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Jan 2022 7:39pm
25th Jan 2022 7:39pm
Broken Metaphor
Broken metaphor,
The fragments stab my mind.
How can my words
Be so messy?
How can they
Be so unrefined?
I title myself a writer,
Yet never title my work.
Am I a nameless poet,
Only analyzing my self worth?
The rhymes
Become enzymes.
Breaking down what little motivation
I have
And I spend my downtime
Piecing together halves
Or quarters
Of constellations,
Of broken segments,
Of broken metaphors.
The fragments stab my mind.
How can my words
Be so messy?
How can they
Be so unrefined?
I title myself a writer,
Yet never title my work.
Am I a nameless poet,
Only analyzing my self worth?
The rhymes
Become enzymes.
Breaking down what little motivation
I have
And I spend my downtime
Piecing together halves
Or quarters
Of constellations,
Of broken segments,
Of broken metaphors.
#WritersBlock
295 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
30th Dec 2021 9:58am
30th Dec 2021 9:58am
And We Turn to Mulch
Exploring my insecurities
In bright oranges and yellows,
That were once mellow blues and cool greens.
My energy,
Swirling around
Like leaves on pavement in autumn,
Intertwined with a strong dream.
Opening my eyes and
Seeing only steam.
And sometimes I can hear her secrets…
She whispers softly in my ear
How she longs to scream out her red and,
Though I am open minded,
Autumn will always become winter.
And the white,
“Pure” snow that will fall
Will stifle the leaves,
Will stifle...
In bright oranges and yellows,
That were once mellow blues and cool greens.
My energy,
Swirling around
Like leaves on pavement in autumn,
Intertwined with a strong dream.
Opening my eyes and
Seeing only steam.
And sometimes I can hear her secrets…
She whispers softly in my ear
How she longs to scream out her red and,
Though I am open minded,
Autumn will always become winter.
And the white,
“Pure” snow that will fall
Will stifle the leaves,
Will stifle...
#aging
416 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
30th Dec 2021 9:49am
30th Dec 2021 9:49am
It’s ok
Baggy gangster shirts
With broken little boys hiding in the fabric
Little lost souls
Broken and hiding in the havoc
Of messy rooms
Of dropping grades
Teen boys are always this way
Because not once did anyone stop and say
It’s ok to cry.
It’s ok to cry.
Empty beer bottles
Desperately pressed to their lips
Because not once did anyone stop and say
Don’t bottle up your emotions.
It’s ok to vent.
Blatant disrespect
For authority and minority
Because not once did anyone stop and say
Love is...
With broken little boys hiding in the fabric
Little lost souls
Broken and hiding in the havoc
Of messy rooms
Of dropping grades
Teen boys are always this way
Because not once did anyone stop and say
It’s ok to cry.
It’s ok to cry.
Empty beer bottles
Desperately pressed to their lips
Because not once did anyone stop and say
Don’t bottle up your emotions.
It’s ok to vent.
Blatant disrespect
For authority and minority
Because not once did anyone stop and say
Love is...
#vulnerability
302 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by tea_for_bee (Bella C.)
