Probably not as funny as I think I am
Insta @chloe_j_writes
I am the tree laid bare by winter, all sandpaper bark and the hollowness of a thing almost-dead, holding my breath in the fractured light of the perpetual confessional,
By Chloë J.about 16 hours ago in Poets
I study my canvas, knife in hand, Silence the clamoring demands From all around; they stayed to watch, Slowly, calmly, I make the first notch—
By Chloë J.3 months ago in Poets
Somehow, it is always night, again, and today had the same flavor of all the ones that came before; loneliness, seasoned with the quiet desperation
I am not certain I exist; Yet there’s my shadow, on the floor, I am a woman barely kissed, Shocked I am a girl no more. //
By Chloë J.4 months ago in Poets
There is a woman in the window; Lonely spider in her web, She howls every time the wind blows And on the glass she bangs her head.
By Chloë J.7 months ago in Poets
If I don’t at least try, I think it might kill me. The shrinking, I mean. I watch the ripples on the water’s membrane flowing in reverse,
By Chloë J.8 months ago in Poets
And what then? When the barbed wire drives away the last of the penitents, when freedom reveals it was loneliness after all, and it chokes far more than relationship ever did, what then?
By Chloë J.9 months ago in Poets
I am a rock and my sisters are wind, free-wheeling throughout the world, vivid and wild and lovely. I am mere stone and my sisters are steam,
How am I supposed to know? If these empty years, full of chewing on dust and missed connections while my gaze ever turns
By Chloë J.11 months ago in Poets
I once slept deep, without start, Through the hours of the night, Held safe beside your beating heart, Your well-known arms held tight;
By Chloë J.about a year ago in Poets
I peer through the cracks, those gentle fissures that let the light in to fall in fractured heartlines on the ground. //
And so what if I'm the sea? Churning, relentless, mutable, angry, // always so angry, burning with unquenchable Greek fire in the depths,
