Waiting for my wings to grow back

Hi, I'm A. I really like to write poetry so I thought tumblr would be a nice place to share some. I've been going through a lot lately so please be nice. Thanks

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Higher

Why do we teach children,

of all the myths and legends,

the story of Icarus

and his faulty wings?

His story is of tragedy,

where he is free,

finally free,

but perishes moments later.

It’s just a story.

Why can’t it end beautifully?

Why can’t we fly

too close to the sun?

I am convinced,

that there is another universe,

where Icarus can be just a boy,

who feels the wind in his hair.

Icarus can fly high

and be strong

and glorious

and be free.

Why must we not shoot for the sun?

I want to dream big.

I want to take chances.

I want to fly.

I want my wings to stay together.

In my story,

Icarus and I hold hands.

He laughs, screaming “Higher!”

And the sun never feels hot on my skin.

We can both fly

and be free,

and never stop,

where there is no end.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Attacks

Back

Forth

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Clicking and tittering.

Snapping a rubber band.

I must move.

A compulsion.

The thoughts in my head run

So quickly

So violently,

They force my body into movement.

Just enough to stop the mania.

If I don’t,

My breath quickens

But too much.

To the point where I cannot breathe.

I’m ill.

My brain doesn’t work right.

It doesn’t cope right.

If others notice

They have the decency

Not to stare.

I rock back and forth,

Tapping my foot and my hands.

I try to remember how to breathe.

I try to count the things.

I try to write it down.

I delude myself into thinking it helps.

But I cannot stop the

Back

Forth

Tap

Tap

Tap.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

What Goes In, Must Come Out

Trigger warning. ED and Depression.

I know what bottom

Looks like, yet

I can never tell

Where the slide starts.

One day I open

My eyes and it’s there.

You wouldn’t know

Unless you looked closely.

My lips spread to smile

When last night,

They spit up acid

And bile.

My face polished

With a heavy coat

But at home

I cover every mirror.

Planner is out

Like I’ve somewhere to be

But I sit at home

Slowly rotting.

“Look through the cracks”

I almost beg.

My story is hiding

While my pain is growing.

I thought I’d killed,

Even massacred, the me

That no one wants,

That no one wants to see.

Why does she live?

What food is she consuming?

How does she know she’s real,

When my eyes are blocked

By the inside of a toilet bowl?

Sometimes I wonder

If I’ve ever left

Or even escaped

This other me.

She hurts me constantly,

Shoving food down

Just to watch it

Come back up.

She decorated my face

Just to mock it

Not only in mirrors,

But even in a window.

She makes great plans

Only to cancel them

Forcing me to whither

At home alone. Again.

It’s a sadistic torture.

A dog on a leash,

I follow her through

Every mountain and valley.

The highs are never

High enough

But the lows

Suffocate me fully.

I choke- craving air

But only taste my dinner.

She punishes me for

My hunger.

She laughs

And calls me weak.

She is always right

And I am always failing.

I am never enough

Never, not for her.

We play chicken with my life,

Wondering,

“Who will force me into death?”

I wish I were hungry.

I wish I were full.

I wish I was alive.

I wish I was dead.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Somewhere

I am neither here

nor there.

Nothing of substance

but more than air.

Some piece

that doesn’t quite fit

and all the same

blends in.

When you write me down,

you stare at the word

until convinced

it no longer has meaning.

I am a dream,

when you wake in the morning,

puzzling me out,

until each thought fades faster.

Catching water in your hands,

I slip through the cracks,

draining

until empty.

A song you heard

a lifetime ago,

the melody sweet

but words long gone.

I am nostalgia,

that feeling you miss,

but never seems real,

until you’re sure it was made up.

I’m with the wind

here and gone,

not tangible

and powerful yet.

Read between the lines,

search for some meaning,

catch that dream before it fades.

Maybe you’ll find me there -

in the place,

neither here nor there.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Rain

The stillness of an evening,

coupled with relentless

drops of rain,

a perfect pairing.

Deep and dark,

rain washes all things,

and keeps the monsters,

in their holes.

When the cold overtakes

the chills arise,

leaving a feeling

of melancholy.

What is in the night rain,

the sadness and hollow,

that leaves me in pieces,

yet never feeling more whole?

A Phoenix is born

from pain and flame,

turning to ashes

yet breathing still.

Not of passion

nor burning desire

for myself,

unable of withstanding heat.

I melt in the rain,

let it drown me

and sink me into

nothing but a puddle.

Yet somehow,

I take form

from the cold darkness

and float once more.

I can’t fly,

not like the Phoenix,

not with drenched wings

But-

when it rains,

I have never been more convinced,

that drowning in that cold night,

makes me feel more alive,

than flight ever could.

Maybe the rain,

takes me to meet

Death, who warns me,

not to fly close to the sun.

Saunter on the surface

of blackness for long enough,

and your eyes will adjust

and fine beauty

in the night.

The rain gently fades,

the drops losing consistency,

leaving behind silence.

I wait,

hand in hand with Death,

for the next storm,

to raise me,

once more.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Is anyone out there?

I just want to be seen.

For the love of god,

Please,

Someone,

See me.

Notice me.

Notice how bad I hurt.

Notice that this brave face,

Is just a mask I put on.

Please,

Just anyone in the world,

Look into my eyes and see me.

Understand why it hurts like this.

Tell me you know it may never get better,

But it’s worth it,

To keep going

With the hope that it will,

Because I’m starting to lose that hope.

I just feel so alone.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Hollow Points

Sometimes I lie

here in the dark,

listening to my soul,

whose quiet haunts me.

Lifeless and abandoned,

huge and gaping

inside my chest,

a hollow point.

I ache for connection,

for fire and love.

I lie here next to you,

never feeling more alone.

I know my soul wants to sing,

admiring you with each look,

but when you won’t embrace me,

I can’t bring myself to even steal a glance.

How could I ever bring myself,

to say the naked truth,

that each time you overlook me,

I dream of death.

The longer I wait,

for you to take my hint,

the more my soul comes alive,

but the fire is an agonizing burn.

This pain makes me beg,

for the suffering to end.

Please open me up,

and fill my soul with something.

I lost my foundation,

my love and trust.

Instead I build my nothingness,

on these hollow points.

@imperial-poetry-prompts

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

A Stupid Bird

There is something

so grey

about dying

so slow.

Soft and heavy,

filling lungs

until I’ve suffocated,

like death.

I cling to Life

yet am pulled to the Hell,

who holds me down

while I’m too lifeless to resist.

I cling to Death

yet I am pulled to Earth,

who pulls me up

while I’m too lifeless to resist.

An endless cycle,

an endless circle,

a repetition,

of Life and Death.

I am set ablaze

fiery and magnificent,

but am too deadly

and burn too quickly.

When once again

I burn to ash,

grey and weak,

I wait,

as Life and Death

forever meet.

Living to die

and dying to live,

why is the Phoenix

seen so strong,

when always she burns?

Why can she never rise,

without falling?

Why can she never end,

without once again beginning?

She burns,

and rises,

and burns

and rises.

God she must be so tired,

of fighting

an endless cycle.

I worry,

I am that unfortunate bird,

as the waves take me under,

once more.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Alone With You

Sitting in the dim,

the kitchen light

just a few panes over,

I contemplate.

The bed dips

where I don’t lay

and the smell thick

when I am without scent.

The tv is on

a channel I frequent.

There’s candy on the counter,

too sweet for my lips.

Blonde strands in the sink,

when my hair is brown

and a soft shirt

whose color clashes my skin.

Music faint

from a band I’ve never heard

and memories loud

that I don’t want to hear.

A voice on the phone

saying all things right

but never making a dent.

Nor is the reminiscence sweet enough.

Why do I feel so alone,

with your presence

sauntering through my mind,

lavishing me with an open heart?

Why do I feel so alone,

when I’m with you?

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Lying to my Therapist

I find solace in pain,

as its repetition

and consistency

never fail.

She frowns

and tells me to put it away.

I’m not supposed to live in the past.

I’m supposed to relinquish control.

She assures me it’s for good,

and who am I to argue,

with a well pressed shirt

and merits on the wall?

But when I count those 5 things,

and take those breaths,

and go to that Peaceful Place,

I know she wouldn’t be pleased.

When I breathe,

I smell wet pavement

and trees with pungent

liveliness that water brings.

I feel its cold,

drenching my back

ruining my hair

and sliding down my skin.

I feel the wind

brining the drops down harder.

I taste the saltiness,

not to be mistaken for rain.

I was heartbroken.

I’m that moment,

I ached

and I yearned.

I mourned,

for myself.

Once again being let down

and trusting without knowing.

When she asks me,

to find a place to bring me peace,

that’s where I go

where I find it.

Sitting under a tree,

crying,

soaked through in a rainstorm,

thinking of a brief lover.

Because old pain

is manageable,

my therapist will never know

and neither will you.

Because I’m so fucked,

I run to old pain,

from an old love,

to escape the pain,

of a current one.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

I Hate Love.

I hate love.

The dastardly villain in every story.

Its constant pursuit pitting myself

Against someone holding my heart.

A lose lose situation.

It’s better to have loved and lost

Than to have never loved at all?

I’m not sure I agree.

The torment of losing

And the feeling of breaking

Is none I’d wish upon anyone.

I know she didn’t mean it

And I know it’s not a huge deal

But it still ripped me in half

And crushed my soul.

The vicious thing about love,

Is that you have to trust someone

So much and so deeply.

And the thing about humans,

Is you can never really trust them.

Setting up the same game,

Only to make the same moves

And lose every time.

It’s insanity

Yet I’m a helpless player.

This will not be a break up,

I know we’ll make niceties

And pretend it didn’t happen,

But that doesn’t mean I’ll forget

Or that it will not haunt me.

You see, this is the first crack,

Our porcelain now stained,

And no matter what happens,

That crack will always be there,

Waiting patiently for pressure

to which it will shatter from.

I hate this serial that is love.

Killing me over and over again.

I am it’s constant victim,

Making me wish,

I had never loved at all.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Fighting My Girlfriend’s Grief

There was a moment.

A tiny tiny moment,

A split second

Where I doubted you.

And even stronger,

I doubted me.

I thought,

Maybe I was wrong,

Maybe she can’t do this,

Maybe I can’t help,

And maybe some things are too broken

To be healed.

And then I doubted myself,

For feeling so selfish in that moment.

For being so weak

And being so wrong.

She wasn’t the problem.

I knew that.

So that meant,

To feel how I did,

I was the problem.

And then I doubted.

I doubted myself.

I thought

Maybe I’m too broken to stand by her side

And maybe I’m too weak.

But that was just a dark moment.

And then followed

A beautiful moment.

I realized that doubting her

Was like believing the sun would never rise again.

Doubting her

Was like thinking the planet would just stop spinning.

Doubting her

Was like a knife in my stomach.

She is strong.

She is brave.

She is silly,

And beautiful

And funny

And kind

And clumsy

And hard working

And gentle

And important.

She is radiant,

Like the sun

And consistent like the earth.

And when I remember all of those things,

The awful moment and the shame passed.

I am once again ready

And determined,

To fight and to love.

Our grief will not win.

Life’s cruel twists will not win.

Nothing could ever hope to win

Against our love.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Twisted Torment

Every time I see your face

My heart feels like it’s being twisted

And twisted fate once again

Has me in torment.

The beauty and release

Of secrets kept

And desires left without indulgence

Has finally seen the light of day.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

Being Brave

I guess I don’t know when to quit

But who ever tasted greatness

That never took a risk?

So I will jump into oblivion

And I will be brave when it’s hard

And I will risk it all

Just to see if you and I

Could ever fall

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

I’m not good at love stories.

My comfort is hiding behind this screen,

Only to admit my darkest secrets

And my most trying moments.

Yet when it comes to love,

I blank.

I’m scared of it.

I’m scared to be truly vulnerable

And to truly let happiness out,

Because I am afraid

It will be taken away.

But how will I ever know

Soemthing good and glorious

If I always am living in sadness.

I’m ready to try

To really try this time.

Because you are beyond worth it

And I don’t want to be afraid anymore

And I deserve a love story.

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

A List of Regrets as Sorrows

I just want to tell my Mom,

I’m sorry I turned out so much like you,

the hurt is what I mean of course.

I just want to tell my Dad,

I’m sorry I have such a temper all the time.

It might be because I hate myself a little bit.

I just want to tell my Brother,

I’m sorry I looked down on you.

Turns out, you were the smart child after all.

I just want to tell Emma,

I’m sorry I left when you were at your lowest,

I just didn’t want to hit rock bottom too.

I just want to tell Zach,

I’m sorry you think the world’s against you,

but you need to start owning your shit.

I just want to tell Kia,

I’m sorry I’m not a better friend.

I don’t know how to make time and I should.

I just want to tell Amanda,

I’m sorry you think I wronged you,

I’m just not the forgiving type.

I just want to tell Greg,

I’m sorry I put so much on you,

I just get lonely sometimes.

I just want to tell Sophia,

I’m sorry I ended our friendship,

I needed a completely blank slate.

I just want to tell Andrew,

I’m sorry I said no when I wanted to say yes.

I’m inherently selfish.

I just wanna tell my Baby,

I’m sorry I wasn’t ready,

I hope I get to meet you one day.

I just want to tell God,

I’m sorry I don’t believe in You,

but I really, truly hope you’re real.

I just want to tell myself,

I’m sorry I’m so hard on you

But if we’re not, who will be?

I just want to tell Tumblr,

I’m sorry I’m not a better poet,

but sometimes this place makes me feel like I am.

<3

[a-dying-fallen-angel]

I See You

For Michelle

I see you down there.

You’re the dead rose,

Wilting and dying away.

The petals fallen

And the color drained.

I see you over there.

Hiding in the dark

With shadows growing taller

As the night stretched on,

And the blackness grows.

I see you under there.

Looking for shelter,

Struggling to stay afloat

As the storm rages around

And the rain soaks you through.

I see you out there.

Trying to survive

Through an endless and barren desert

And the sun sucks up the moisture

Leaving you dry and brittle.

I see you.

I see your pain,

Your loss,

Your battles,

Your sorrows,

Your worry,

Your agony.

I see you.

I see you want to give up.

But you need to know,

That after winter ends,

Roses bloom again in the spring.

You need to know that the darkest of nights,

Will never win against the sun.

You need to know,

That storms blow over

And rainbows come after.

You need to know

That no desert is endless,

And I’ll always be there with water for you.

I see you.

I see the struggles,

But I also see something else.

I see your joy.

Your beauty,

Your laughter,

Your hopes,

Your strength,

You passion,

Your energy,

Your loyalty,

Your empathy,

Your kindness,

Your love,

Especially your love.

Even though you may not see past the torment,

I do.

I see you.

Everything.

You aren’t alone.

Even though you may be stuck in the past

Or stuck in a bed place,

I see your potential,

And how great you already are,

And I can see that those things are worth fighting for.

I see you,

So please don’t give up,

Because I love getting to see you. ❤️