• Café Life is the Colony's main hangout, watering hole and meeting point.

    This is a place where you'll meet and make writing friends, and indulge in stratospherically-elevated wit or barometrically low humour.

    Some Colonists pop in religiously every day before or after work. Others we see here less regularly, but all are equally welcome. Two important grounds rules…

    • Don't give offence
    • Don't take offence

    We now allow political discussion, but strongly suggest it takes place in the Steam Room, which is a private sub-forum within Café Life. It’s only accessible to Full Members.

    You can dismiss this notice by clicking the "x" box

Poetry free

The World Between the Words
TW: abuse
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*



Let me in, breathe me in
So deep, I’m suffocating—
Don’t stop—
Let me touch—don’t touch me.
A bottle spun by who?
Let me taste—
If I can stop screaming, he’ll hear me.
If I stop crying, he’ll relent.

Who cares?
I’m turning and turning and turning.
I love it—I hate it—I feel it. Don’t feel it.
Please, stop. Don’t stop.
You’re not clear. You’re not sober. You’re not well. Your fault.
Break me, put me together, and I’ll tear again a hole.
Can’t bear to be whole.
Let me love you—I’ll never love you.
But I am talking to whom?
Who am I, if not angry?
See my strength.
I separate skin with steel.
I cry ‘til snot bubbles and saliva bleeds.
Now am I pretty?
A pretty secure secret, even I've lost the key.
Where was I going, and where will I be?
A girl grasping sheets, failing to pull free.
Weak.
She's all I see.
 
Last edited:
TW: abuse
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*



Let me in, breathe me in
So deep, I’m suffocating—
Don’t stop—
Let me touch—don’t touch me.
A bottle spun by who?
Let me taste—
If I can stop screaming, he’ll hear me.
If I stop crying, he’ll relent.

Who cares?
I’m turning and turning and turning.
I love it—I hate it—I feel it. Don’t feel it.
Please, stop. Don’t stop.
You’re not clear. You’re not sober. You’re not well. Your fault.
Break me, put me together, and I’ll tear again a hole.
Can’t bear to be whole.
Let me love you—I’ll never love you.
But I am talking to whom?
Who am I, if not angry?
See my strength.
I separate skin with steel.
I cry ‘til snot bubbles and saliva bleeds.
Now am I pretty?
A pretty secure secret, even I've lost the key.
Where was I going, and where will I be?
A girl grasping sheets, failing to pull free.
Weak.
She's all I see.
Very moving.
"I cry ‘til snot bubbles and saliva bleeds" conjures up a hell of an image... maybe an image of hell.
 

Further Articles from the Author Platform

Latest Articles By Litopians

  • Nationhood Found
    I was starting to get used to the idea that Romania was the land of my ancestors. Those little pies ...
  • Christmas on the Equator
    I’m often asked, “Do you celebrate Christmas over there in Borneo?” The official answer is “ ...
  • After 65 Decembers
    . In August, he smiled at the memories of 65 Decembers, and put away his razor. . Throughout Septemb ...
  • Sunnyside: A Man Without a Country
    I had good reason to believe Poland was “my” country; cashiers in Polish grocery stores would sp ...
  • Hooks
    It’s the word I keep encountering again and again when listening to interviews with agents and pub ...
  • Not an Ode to Howl
    I am privileged to belong to the Thursday Ladies of Letters, a writers’ group in Kota Kinabalu. It ...
  • Still Singing Those Songs
    I caught a sad news item concerning one of my music icons: Jimmy Cliff, who died at the age of 81… ...
What Goes Around
Comes Around!
Back
Top