Deadheaded
surviving you.
I flay the skin off my bones, because for years, every time the sun touched it you were by my side.
I cut my tongue out, because all the words I spoke were not enough to make you stay and in the end it was bleeding from biting back the truth anyway. You are slowly killing me.
I let my fingers drop to the ground, one by one, joining fresh soil in a grave marked “not enough”. The words are in your messy scrawl. My hands were always holding you too tightly or not tightly enough. Yours were gentle until they turned to restraints before violently pushing me away.
I cut the dead ends off my hair and look at them like they’re you because what were you if not holding me back. Right? What were you if not something good and healthy for me… until you weren’t. Until you were the opposite.
I want to gouge out my eyes because all they see are memories of you and a present where you’re absent and only part of me is glad. I refrain. Just.
Instead, I pay for someone to stab holes in my ears and call it fashion rather than masochism. I call it growth rather than transformation; pretend and hope they are the same. Don’t flowers need to be pruned before more can grow? (This is me getting deadheaded.)
I thought my room was the colour of the ocean, but maybe it is just the shade of a bruise. Maybe it is just the hue of me. I hang curtains of silver, use it as a veil to hide the storm outside, use it as a shield to protect me.
I watched the old you die and thought to kill my old self in turn. I claw at the parts of me you knew about (all of them) because they must be what wasn’t enough. I draw blood and scream, pull at my hair.
Survival isn’t pretty. Almost not surviving is even uglier.
I boomerang between thinking I can heal with gentleness and patience and bubble baths and then wanting to erratically exorcise the pain of you in the most self-destructive way possible (following your lead).
I gave you my everything. Didn’t I? Does that make me nothing now?
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Comments (21)
Wow, that last line was especially impactful. Amazing
Amazing.
love this ❤
You are completely under my skin with this one... Brilliant!
I love how raw this is
Evocative!!! Congratulations on Top Story!!!💕❤️❤️
Just. Everything everyone has said and more, if possible. I just am always stunned by your command...your ability to find the most affecting and effective words. I fail to see how anyone could read this and not feel it to their very core. Well done does not seem enough, but congrats on an awesome Top Story.
I felt this. Definitely a well deserved top story!
Incredible work, Poppy. Visceral and conflicting, remorseful and hopeful: 'Instead, I pay for someone to stab holes in my ears and call it fashion rather than masochism. I call it growth rather than transformation; pretend and hope they are the same. Don’t flowers need to be pruned before more can grow? (This is me getting deadheaded.)' Damn! Great work!
Damn. That was something. So many standout lines with stinging, raw emotion. The color of a bruise, the stabbing of the ears, etc. And that last line says it all. Excellent work. Congrats on the TS.
Wow, Great work ♥️📝✌️🎉😉Congratulations on your Top Story🎉
Holy cow. F**k, Poppy. I need... I need a minute to just sit and enjoy this one, I think. Wow. Personally, I've never understood piercings as an art form. Strange idea to stab yourself full of holes if you ask me. But I never even considered how you spoke about them here. I know some people who've definitely done what this poem describes and... yeah... wow. Honestly, I don't know quite what to say. That was so good you've got me at a complete loss for words. Beautifully crafted, I loved (?) every word of this one
Oof I felt this in my soul. The feeling of giving so much of yourself to someone and it being so hard to feel whole afterwards. Great top story!
Oof. This hit hard. The uniqueness of details and imagery somehow made it universally painful. Poppy, you have an inspiring style and every line made me stop, breathe for a second before I could continue. "I thought the room was the colour of the ocean, but maybe it is just the shade of a bruise"??? Are you kidding me? And that ending line - I want it on my gravestone 🪦
Well.
You have a real eye for unique details. Comparing a room first to the shade of an ocean and then a bruise...it's such great writing! I love it!
Every single freaking line was so relatable! I love when you write these kinda poems because it always feels like it's from deep within my soul. I feel seen and like I belong. And thank you so much for that! ❤️
So visceral. Impactful. You keep giving everything.
Choose ‘healing with gentleness, patience and bubble baths!!’ You’re definitely Something… someone very special & precious! Great writing.
Visceral, fitting for halloween
Poppy, you take the same theme and make it interesting every time you write a poem like this! I love the deep analogies and lighter metaphors you thread together. I’m working on a poem right now- I realized as I’ve written it that it is so informed by your style! So thank you for the inspiration 🥰