Poetic - Tumblr Posts

Kiss

Your kisses like fire on my skin

A sweet relief I always long for

A kiss that can take away all the numbness and leave only relief

That can lift the wait of the world of my shoulder

A kiss that can destroy

A kiss that can scar

A kiss that breaks me day after day

Remember

I remember the day I met you.

I remember the way you smiled.

I remember how you made me smile.

I remember when you you laughed.

I remember when you cried.

I remember when the laughter stopped.

I remember when you stopped talking.

I remember you

I remember you

I remember.

Untitled no. 1

I want to hate you

I want to despise you

Cause I know if I did it would be

easier to cut you out

Easier to just let go of it all

I enjoy the pain

But I can't hate you

The distraction you bring

I know if I quit I'd be empty

I'd be left with a whole in my chest

And I don't what it would take to fill

My soul is willing that you leave

That the choice is not mine to make

You force me to end what I started.

"my heartaches to see the beauty of the world once again, to smile at the sun and bask in the heat of summer. To seek comfort in the scent of my mother and father and enjoy the rest of a long day."- me, in the middle of a breakdown.

Do you think about me?

Some days I wonder if you ever think of me,

what you did to me.

Your name rings in my brain nonstop like a ringing bell

It's like you engraved it into my skull

As if I've been marked,

By

your name and your hands

It feels almost unfair that you get to go on with your happy life

While I have to live on with your name in my head on my body

A horrible tattoo that I never asked for that I forever have to live with.

But I know one thing

Your life is a facade

You see me in your dreams

When you look in the mirror

I have wiped away my tattoos

I have fixed the echo in my skull

I am clean

While you will always be

dirty.

I am unique, but I am not different

I am separate, but I fit in

I have my own views, but I am not ignorant

I am not too curvy, but I am not too thin

I am not too quiet, but never have I shouted

I am who they want me to be, but I cannot conform

I am compared over and over, I am constantly doubted

I am not allowed to over express myself, yet I am expected to perform

They boo and they cheer

I cry and I sneer

They beg and they demand

I conform although I do not understand

I do not know what more they desire

I do not know what less they need

I do not know how to put out this fire

I do not know how much now remains still me

It spreads and it burns

No matter how much I fight, it always returns

And I yearn, and I yearn, and I yearn

But deep inside I’ve always known

That in attempts to reach their impossible throne

I will inevitably be left alone

They think they know me

They think they can control who I will turn out to be

They think that eventually they’ll find the pearl

If they can pressure me into the role of that perfect teenage girl

Is anyone else obsessed with poetic compliments?

Like… not just calling someone pretty but…

“His hair was like snow and his skin like frost. He looked like a creature made of porcelain moonlight with eyes like glistening stars. Words could not describe how ethereal he looked when basking in the moon’s gentle glow,” she spoke softly.

“And I remember him that way. A man made of stardust, a man who looked to be the very moon itself...”

“I find him in the moon because that was always what he was to me. The moon, soft and gentle. He was brighter than anyone else, as if he belonged in the heavens not on earth as a man, but in the sky as a celestial body.”

“He is the moon in the sense that his pure and beautiful…”

She swallowed thickly, voice soft and tender as she spoke again. “And he is the moon in the sense that he is far out of my reach,” she whispered, a single tear falling from her eye.

And not just saying you like someone’s strength or that you think they’re handsome but…

“You say that as if you don’t look like a fallen star.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She smiled softly, kissing the tip of his perfect nose as her hands moved down his neck then to his shoulders.

“Dark,” she whispered, kissing his jaw, “perfect,” she kissed his neck, “and pure,” she kissed his throat softly.

“It’s as if the sky fell onto earth,” she whispered, her lips ghosting along his throat as her hands skipped over his wounded chest and gently moved against his stomach.

“A man made of steel and rock, my own meteor,” she breathed against him, kissing his collarbone.

“My own piece of heaven.”

Cause shit like that just makes me 🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧 frreeal

And I stare at a sky which has turned into a graveyard. And I cry as a new star appears because another child has died tonight. And I mourn for the constellations that remain incomplete. For one of them is alive. But isn't that worse? And I watch shooting stars search for their place, their country, yet there is no sky there for them to travel to. Just smoke. And fire. And a hell my God didn't make. And I watch from my screen as a world disappears. And I see its citizens begging to be heard. And then I see the rest of us. And I watch as we stuff cotton in our ears. 

My mother’s sadness is an ocean above me.

It is a murky sea i walk into each morning,

A little bit of my body disappearing with every step,

Until i am unable to tell where i end and where this tsunami begins.

Now, i open my mouth

— just a little wider than yesterday —

And i force the saltwater down my throat.

My lungs expand, they burn

— just a little bit more than yesterday —

And the raging waves become slow tides.

They roll over me soothingly

As my body sinks to the sea floor once more.

Tomorrow, i wake up.

My mother’s ocean is no longer there.

Yet,

My lungs ache,

They throb,

As a saline flood pushes against them.

My lord, 

Why do you do this? 

Why must i burn in the flames of my fathers sins, 

While he stands by my ashes

And prays for more light. 

I am lost here,

In this land i call home.

My feet burn and blister from the sand they walk over;

My mouth twinges and stings from the air it swallows;

My body spasms and twitches from the heat it withstands,

And I realise once more:

I was not made for this.

For where is the subtle brush of grass that should greet my every step?

Where is the smoke my lungs were made to breath?

Where are the monsoons that should shower my skin?

Where are they?

I am growing desperate, now.

Each day a new petal falls off me,

A thorn growing in its place,

And I find I am more cactus than jasmine today.

I feel the most poetic witnessing someone elses sadness. Someone else's loss. I do not know why. But my tears drip more freely then . My hand shakes less. my pen writes more. Maybe it is the fact that their misery seems to add a glow to them. A light. A beauty that not even time, with all of its slow decomposition, can fabricate. Maybe it is that. Or maybe it is their iron will, their burning heart, that makes it all so ethereal. My misery is nothing like this. Why? Why? Whywhywhywhy- my misery is a poison i inject into myself everyday, my misery is a shadow that takes my body's form, my misery is neither dark nor light. It does not glow. It does not burn. My misery is grey, ashen. It is my heart, with its crumbling arteries. It is my mind, with its disconnecting nerves. My misery doesn't seem poetic to me. 

When, suddenly, I have no motivation for anything. When, suddenly, I want to climb into my bed and bury myself underneath my anxiety. When, suddenly, I never want to wake up again. When, suddenly, academic validation is all I want. When, suddenly, I am too tired to pick up my pen. When, suddenly, I start losing weight. When, suddenly, my friends wrap their fingers around my wrist and gush about how small I've gotten. When, suddenly, my throat aches with every breath. When, suddenly, there are cracks on my skin that I can't explain. When, suddenly, I'm not survivng anymore.

I am 10. I ask my dad to write down his letters on a piece of paper I thrust into his face. He looks at me oddly, he complies. I am 10. And my hands ache and my fingers are sore, and the page has torn and ripped, yet I continue. My pencil has started to shake, it's lead has long blunted, and a fresh shaving of graphite covers the faded one beneath it, the once sharp curve of the 'B' disappearing under the layers atop it. I am 10. And I wish my dad shared more than just blood with me.

"She's going to sit alone. Right at that same table where she built it all. Her happiness, her courage, her perseverance, but most importantly, where she met all of her friends. Now it's all crumbling down to her fingertips. She closes her eyes and tries to dream herself away into a reality where all of that still exsists, but she can't. It's all blank without the real thing... Without the real them. Complete nothingness. She can't even remember their voices. Everything is fading away from her. And everytime, she blames herself for something that she couldn't control. They've all left now; her friends. The girl lifts her head and stares at them. They're all happy. They all prance around, discussing random topics she used to talk about with them all of the time. She even sees her crush holding hands with her best friend. They don't even notice her. All of them go sit at their new table, completely forgetting about what once was. She weakly smiled as tears fell down her cheeks. Her heart ached for them. For someone. But she had no one. She put her head back down and waited for an escape. She pulled her sketchbook and poetry journal closer to her. They may only be objects, but they are all she has now. She pours her heart out crying. She couldn't hold it in any longer. Her fears were reality, and she somehow had to stay strong in this. But how could she stay strong when she wasn't going to be remembered by any of them? Was it all pointless to make memories in the first place? She just wanted to disappear. She then heard whispers all around her. It sounded like her friends, but that couldn't be. She lifted her head up and rubbed her eyes. A boy with a pretend smile and a sympathetic gaze pulled me into a hug.

"You're going to be okay, we're all going to be okay. I promise."

She cried into his chest until they all gathered around her and tackled her into a group hug.

Her friends.

They were here.

"I'm sorry for the mess I've created," She shyly whispered, "haven't you forgotten me, yet? I would've."

"How could we forget about you?" A raven haired boy asked, "We've been right here the whole time."

- Dreaming of Wolves//Vent

(I just... Sobbed while writing this.)

"Don't cry," He whispered to the broken girl beside him on the ground, "you have me."

The girl choked on her own tears. Blood splattered on the dusty dirt ground below them. It was only them left.

"Now... Now the war is over," She wiped her tears away, "when my friends are all dead. And I'm still here."

- Dreaming of Wolves//Story Excerpt

"It's a sad truth that I will write about everyone I love, but none of them will even try and put me into a sentence."

- Dreaming of Wolves

"A part of me wonders if you'll even show up to my funeral. Will we still be friends before we die?"

- Dreaming of Wolves//Dark 3AM Thoughts

(Don't worry, I'm okay I swear, I'm just expressing myself.)

"How am I supposed to say I miss you and I love you when you ruined my life? How am I supposed to morn you when you were my monster, controlling me like a puppet that I wasn't. I'm free, and yet here I am, still confused. Are you family or a foe? Am I supposed to miss you or forget you? Am I even supposed to have these thoughts?"

- Dreaming of Wolves//Dark 3AM Thoughts

"You lead me on. Through every word, every single text, you romanticized the idea of our friendship. You slowly gained my trust even after years of me not trusting people. I even said I'd take a bullet for you. You told me you'd stay, unlike the others. You told me you'd stay. You told me you'd stay. And I believed you.

And then you left.

Breaking every word that you ever said to me."

- Dreaming of Wolves // Spilled