My plans are already made
How I wish I could just fade
Into bed with you at night

But sleeping next to you is too hard
Hard for me to want to sleep
When you’re right next to me
Because there aren’t enough minutes in a day
To look at you
To listen
To hold

But waking up to you is too promising
Promises of a good day
Or a shit day
But a shit day with you…
is a good one
Because atleast I can
Look at you
Listen
Hold

So I won’t sleep alone instead
I’ll have great and shit days alone

Ill be dreaming through it all

dried up paint

Scraping dried up paint from under my fingernails
With a 2H
Writing shit with too many details
Its getting late

Lying down by my book
Kept company by my pencils
And my phone
But its only decoration right now

I love it when an addiction is just decor
I could be using it but I wouldn’t know what for
To pick you up
To start to scroll
But I don’t
To want to drink
A glass of wine
But I wont

To smoke a cigarette, to think about you...
But I do


I love it when I write
Because nothing really means anything
Apart from one word at a time
And everyone thinks it does
That theres a theme or a deeper meaning
That I thought about before I finished it
I didn’t
There isn’t
Its just me talking in my head
If my brain could talk
Its just the shit it woulda said
I find meaning in my writing
But I don’t write with meaning
I write with a pencil
And dried up paint

Boy bye

Sorry I’m not good enough 
What you wanted me to be
Sorry I’m not good enough
But you’re not good enough for me
You try to perfect my flaws
But I love my imperfections
You try to bring me down
But let me teach you a lesson

See, I know I’m not perfect
And know ill never be
But I need someone to love how I am
So I can be the best me
But see
I cant make you love me
No matter how hard I try
So I’m giving you up
Sorry, boy, bye.

Woman

As a woman

Ive started to notice sexism in my social life. If I’m seen giving orders it’s “micromanaging” “okay mum” “controlling” where as if a man does these things he is listened to, its “teaching” or “helping”.

I allowed myself to be held by men in a way that made me feel uncomfortable but “was just friendly”, talked to and about hyper sexually as an object to be seen and touched.

As a woman I am starting to be scared at how much I can see is based on nothing but my gender, no matter how much I know about an area, there will always be a dumber, more stupid man being listened to by many more.

When I use my sexuality to my advantage, as a way to make money, and to gain confidence. It’s seen as easy, a waste.

You can’t ask a broken person

To believe your words with no actions

With contrary reactions

With promises unkept

You can’t ask me to believe that you love me

When what I want is just hug me

All I need is a friend

I can’t feel loved if you leave me

I can’t feel loved if you don’t care

I want to feel like you need me

But you only try to get me out your hair

Taylor Hopewell

Lifeless

I wasn’t ready for you

Like a bird that can’t yet fly

How could I teach you to

Lifeless

Drained of all my strength

Drained of life

Lifeless

Is how I was left

But I’m back

And I’m teaching myself how to fly

So one day you will too

And I’ll be soaring through the skies

Before I ever get to meet you

Because I need to go through the worst

To teach you to navigate a storm

And feel the best

So that you can always feel my warmth

But today was not the time

As I have yet to build a nest

But one day I hope I will feel your life against my chest

Taylor Hopewell

machine me

My scars don’t define me

They are merely scratches on the surface of this body

This body that I hold

I am my body and my past, but it is not me

That’s how I gain my confidence

By knowing I am so much more than my physical

I’m actually not what’s visible at all

I am a mind, and a soul, that can’t be seen only felt

Can not be explained only experienced

I love the body that contains me

Even tho it has been harmed

I love the bones that keep me upright

Structures and alarmed,

with triggers and buttons that only I know best

But I am missing one button that allows me to rest

I know the procedure, but don’t have the code

My body is a machine, that I must decipher

If I want to be released from this world

I must try to figure out combinations and patterns and passwords

To fully experience myself, I must understand the key

To unlocking to door, to set me free

My body is mine, but it is not me

The world is a place that I can’t quite see

Can’t see past the glass windows mistaken for eyes

or feel past the sensors thought to be skin

or the control centre…my mind

Taylor

insomnia

I made myself believe in monsters

And demons and ghosts

Because they were the explanations

That I could get away with the most

Instead of explaining my mental health

I could blame it on my imagination

On my lack of education

But no

Its insomnia

Its stress

Its anxiety and depression

That wrap me up in bed

And they keep my eyes wide open and red

They keep the pressure in my head

The pain in my body

They keep me from getting help

I called them monsters

and monsters they are

Taylot