The world ends here.

16.

Fri, 03 May 2013 18:50:12 +1000

Our women die lonely and weeping.

Disabused.

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 20:19:19 +1000

To tell the truth
is to tear my tongue from its
root and spill blood
into a glass so you can
drink it;

your mouth tasting
all I’d ever tasted in
love before—

before there were
roses on the benchtops and
kisses stolen between kisses
given and a hand on my hand
saying more in its touch than
you ever could with your words.

— I’d learnt that love
isn’t swallowing fists and blood between
meals.

15.

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 18:26:00 +1000

Every morning,
I’m staring down nightmares.

I just want to be where you are.

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 23:14:00 +1000

I don’t know
if you’re going anywhere
I want to go or what secrets
are buried in the skin
of your wrists,

but I hope
you can find room for
me in the backseat
between the bags
of baggage

the other girls
have left.

Change.

Sun, 21 Apr 2013 13:11:36 +1000

Change.

loveinyourarms replied to your post: First kiss. throwws glass on floor ANOTHER!!! *kisses the...

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 21:48:53 +1000

loveinyourarms replied to your post: First kiss.

*throwws glass on floor* ANOTHER!!!

*kisses the heck out of*

YES ANOTHER. Well, it’s been a while and I’ve been struggling to write so SOMETHING had to happen uwu

First kiss.

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 21:44:47 +1000

I cannot go to
the river bank
where we first
kissed without tasting
you in my mouth.

(Like blood;
thick you stick
to the roof of my
mouth and I can’t
rinse you out.)

ifwewerefeckless: beckstraordinary: Unrequited Love PoemSierra...

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 00:30:37 +1000

ifwewerefeckless:

beckstraordinary:

Unrequited Love Poem
Sierra DeMulder
A Poem Observed
Button Poetry

I saw this live last night. Learning to let go is hard.

I could listen to this on repeat for days

Love, before I met you.

Sun, 14 Apr 2013 22:38:00 +1000

1) I was a blank canvas
for their hands to paint endearments
and childhood secrets on.

The bruises came later,
but bruises don’t talk and neither
will I.

2) A slammed door,
a raised fist and bloodied teeth and how
did we end up here, babe?

How did we fall out of love so heavily?

3) A knife,
they’d twist it in my gut
and hang my bleeding
corpse out to wait
for the next poor soul
to find me.

ifwewerefeckless: redeemedandloved: On Admitting You’re An...

Sun, 14 Apr 2013 17:26:13 +1000

ifwewerefeckless:

redeemedandloved:

On Admitting You’re An Abuse Survivor-Sierra Demulder

“It will not happen the first time you forgive him. Or the second. Or the third. It will not happen the fourth time you break down in public…it will not happen when you write this poem. When you finally claim what happened to you as if it was a child you abandoned when you were too young to know better. “

god

Sometimes I wish I could leave the lights on.

Sun, 14 Apr 2013 15:21:00 +1000

When your hands are
holding my sides so fiercely
I think I might break,
I wish I could see your face
with more than just my
fingertips.

Sanguivorous.

Wed, 10 Apr 2013 19:52:00 +1000

Teeth in my
skin, the junctions of
my elbows and thighs
have become your playground
and I fall apart beneath
you.

13.

Mon, 01 Apr 2013 18:35:40 +1100

Living with depression has broken me.

12.

Sat, 30 Mar 2013 23:14:06 +1100

You were too pernicious to love.

Bad taste.

Sat, 30 Mar 2013 21:58:24 +1100

You are a
sad song at the back
of my mouth,
gagging me with
every word I try to
say that isn’t praise
of your name and

Oh! God,
don’t leave me
this way.

Tear my tongue from
my cheek, from my spoilt
mouth.

Let me speak my own
praises of people
who aren’t you,
people who could
never be you,
people with hearts
that have not withered,
hands that still know how to
press love-me-tender prints
into my skin and

I still don’t know
if you loved or fucked me better.

On sadness, she wrote.

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 20:32:51 +1100

I’m sad all the time,
and I do the dishes and wonder
when I got to be so sad,

and I do the laundry
and I wonder where all the
sadness comes from,

and I clean the bathroom
and I wonder how all the sadness
fits inside of me,

and I smoke too many
cigarettes and wonder if the
sadness will ever go away.

Tell me why you write what you write? Why is it your poetry is always the saddest thing I've ever read, but I love to read it? How do you write such terrible things to be so beautiful?

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 19:36:10 +1100

I write because I can, and because I want to be able to write something that means something beautiful to someone.

I think perhaps you might be slightly masochistic? Sorry, that’s not very funny is it? I don’t know, good person, but I’m glad you love to read it :)

I think that they must be beautiful only to you, and perhaps other readers, because to me they will always feel like terrible things no matter how I’ve written them down. There is no beauty in the terror.

10.

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 19:10:30 +1100

I don’t want to die waiting.

Our women live empty.

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 11:49:04 +1100

My mother
and her mother and
her mother’s mother have
all spent their lives
saying yes;

their mouths
splitting their hesitance
on the edges of their
husband’s teeth.

They coughed up
their spines for their
marriage vows and
their chests
are empty,

cavities where
a bird might have been,
but isn’t.

Cut-throat.

Tue, 19 Mar 2013 22:37:00 +1100

When I was young
I spat daggers at the boys
who jeered on street corners
at the girls who walked by,
summer dresses swaying,
bare thighs.

Now that I am old,
my mouth is a fist-fight
knife-fight waiting
to happen.

Cut-throat girl
with a gun for a tongue
and a war zone shell.

The world ends here.

16.

Disabused.

15.

I just want to be where you are.

Change.

loveinyourarms replied to your post: First kiss. *throwws glass on floor* ANOTHER!!! *kisses the...

First kiss.

ifwewerefeckless: beckstraordinary: Unrequited Love PoemSierra...

Love, before I met you.

ifwewerefeckless: redeemedandloved: On Admitting You’re An...

Sometimes I wish I could leave the lights on.

Sanguivorous.

13.

12.

Bad taste.

On sadness, she wrote.

Tell me why you write what you write? Why is it your poetry is always the saddest thing I've ever read, but I love to read it? How do you write such terrible things to be so beautiful?

10.

Our women live empty.

Cut-throat.

loveinyourarms replied to your post: First kiss. throwws glass on floor ANOTHER!!! *kisses the...