[awkwardpoetblog]

a lesbian conservative in a liberal world

alternately titled: ‘someone I love and respect said some hurtful comments about “people like me” and the only way I deal with things is through writing’

because the only thing that changed between my childhood and now is instead of “hate the sin but love the sinner” my ears ring with “love the sin, but hate the sinner” and I don’t know which one is better.

and i’m bruised and broken from a thousand times of being told that I’m “too gay” - except now unless I look and act and think and vote exactly the way the other side want; I’m told that I’m not “gay enough”

and it’s a balancing act on a tightrope of fire, and I’m battling alone on every side. a hateful blend of not enough and never enough and a bent up whim of people that preach acceptance yet try to force a change of self.

but at fourteen I fell in love in the middle of a Catholic School hallway and if the nuns and priests and the body of the entire catholic church weren’t enough to get me to change every part of who I am then i’m not sure why you think you can -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

Tag game: tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better

Tagged by: @rootburkles like fucking forever agooooo, but I'm just getting back on tumblr after a little bit of time away :)

Favourite colour: Purple <----SAME!

Currently reading: Yooo, at any given moment I have at least 10 different AO3 tabs open so a shitload of fanfiction for sure. I'm hopingto read "Fantasyland: How America Went Haywire" after my sister is done reading it though, so pretty excited for that.

Last song: "I Will Fight" by Eva Under Fire! I've been listening to it on fucking repeat since I heard it at a concert about a week ago. They opened for Skillet and I fucking fell in love.

Last movie: uhhhhh, some Hallmark movie? I think the Ghosts of Boyfriends Past or something?? I stayed the night with my grandma Thursday night and she LOVES Hallmark movies soooo

Last series: 911 at the moment! but I binge watch the shit out of Criminal Minds, NCIS, and One Tree Hill at random times

Coffee or tea: Ahhh, tea for sure...but only if its sweetened and on ice

Currently working on: this! (HAH) uhhh, actually not really working on anything...got a lot of shit floating in my head that will probably become a poem later but for now, nothing

I'm not tagging anyone because it's been like three months since I was tagged, but THANK YOU @rootburkles for fucking tagging me because I love learning more about people and I also love doing shit like this! :)

[awkwardpoetblog]

Titled: "the nice thing about homophobes and bigots is they provide wonderful poetic inspiration"

and I'm sorry for a past you'll never understand in a broken world you didn't know. and I'm so familiar with hatred and disgust for the person I've always known I could be that your vile words roll down my back like snow down a landslide - and isn't that the crux of it all.

finding a space, a therapy, a connection to people places and things that make you feel a certain way and an unrelenting force hell bent on fighting their way through, like pain is meant to be shared until everyone has a taste

but I'll live the rest of my life making sure your poison isn't the only thing people ever hear, beacuse I refuse to conform to the narrative you've set for yourself and I refuse to apologize for a way of living you don't understand.

-The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

alternatively titled: "because this is more than a long fucking weekend and I am forever fucking grateful for all the men and woman that answered a call I never could so I could even have the freedom to fucking post this poem and I will never apologize for that."

so today I'll wear red, white and blue

and some people will disagree

but I'll silence their voices

with pride of my own.

because today isn't about

policies, or parties, or the president

It's about the men and the woman

that made the ultimate sacrifice

for the country they loved;

even if it didn't always love them back.

- The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

a barely lit match

alternatively titled: “too much music and too many thoughts and what the ever loving fuck are these feelings and how do I make them stop.”

but it’s too fast and too soon and I should know better than to swoon for the first pretty girl to show me everything a Catholic household made me believe that I could never have.

and I’m supposed to be the shell of a younger me - a body filled with too many words and too much incomplete poetry and what does it say about me that the thought of you brings all sorts of thoughts and feelings out that I buried years ago -

a barely lit match in the corners of a heart that I believed could never love again, and how can we ever catch fire, when you steal all the oxygen from my lungs? -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

everything they hate

alternately titled: “more word vomit because tomorrow is mothers day and I have a lot of fucking thoughts about it”

and my heart beats out a tune that they’ll never hear, because they built their belief system on a foundation of hate for things they’ll never understand. and sticks and stones my break my bones, but careless words said by the people I love will leave cuts that may never heal. 

but someone tell me why is it my blood that’s always spilled in the name of the religion that never loved me anyway - and maybe I was naïve to believe that this could end in anything other than pain - because how do you tell your family that you became everything they taught you how to hate? -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

the gray path

and I flashback to middle school and a frightened girl that didn’t understand what it meant to fall in love with her best friend, and the terror is as real as the acid that slides down my throat and once again i’m at a loss of where to go

so do I take the path that’s been forged since before I could walk? the way that means i get to keep everything and everyone i love - or do I forge my own path and risk losing everything to gain a sliver of a dream I no longer believed I could have?

and I could spend hours debating the right and wrong and the way that shades of gray will always be better suited to my taste - but maybe I’m tired of always doing the right thing, of losing parts of myself to gain the love of everybody that never deserved me anyway.

and maybe there never should have been a choice to begin with, maybe life was never supposed to be black and white and sin or saint two roads forged that never should have been; but maybe the world would still keep spinning even if I took the path that mimicked my heart. -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

happy ending

alternatively titled: “i’m having all these thoughts and feelings lately and i’m not sure if anything i’m even writing is making any fucking sense but i can’t seem to stop.”

and who gets to decide the ending of the stories? the happy ending of a fairytale that had the pages ripped out halfway through - and maybe I’m a product of broken words and Catholic shame and yet I’m still here - through neverending nights of praying for a release from the fucked up choices a younger me made, and a new prayer of longing for everything that younger me never believed  could be a reality, because I rewatch the same movies over and over again because I like to think that someone somewhere is getting a happy ending - even if it won’t be me. -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

give us a chance

alternately titled: I don’t even fucking know what this word vomit is I just know I have to many thoughts about this one person and I don’t know what else to do other than write

and is this a prayer or a poem? a bargain or a plea? a single second to express everything I could give you, everything we could be in the time between yesterday and tomorrow

and maybe I don’t have a lot to offer, just a fragile heart and a splintered soul and a battered body - but I swear to God I will love you with every broken piece, just give me a chance

give me a chance to prove that I can give you the parts of me that no one else has ever seen, the messy bits are just a silly little backdrop to all the dreams I have of the two of us

and even now I can’t make sense of anything - it’s a jumbled mess of uncompleted sentences and broken lines of poetry because when did writing my thoughts out become so damn difficult to do -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

i have a moderate to severe fear of the word “girlfriend”

and maybe I never learned how to say the word that I would never get to keep, the two-syllable word that a terrified fourteen-year old whispered to herself in the quiet of her bedroom - and that a still terrified twenty-six-year-old continues to whisper in the deepest parts of her heart -

and it’s a fear stuck between nothing and everything and a broken hope of ever getting to actually use the word in relation to everything I ever wanted to be - every part of me that only wanted to shine - and every part of me that would never be allowed to do that. and I’ll hide that hope and fear inside an already bruised heart and pray that someday, I may get to say it too. -The Awkward Poet

I was scrolling through Tumblr and saw this list of writing prompts that written considerations had reblogged and this word vomit happened in a total of 10 minutes, so sorry if it’s a bit rough and a bit unpolished - but it’s 1:20 in the morning here and I had to write it and post it tonight or it’d stay stuck in my brain

[awkwardpoetblog]

my faith has never been easy

alternately titled: “I was born and raised Catholic but I’ve always struggled and shit has been really tough lately and I’m having a hard time making sense of things”

because “come as you are” means come only if you’re not a mess of brokenness and pain and so maybe my church is different than yours; a pew of broken people and a hospital of the sick and desolate - and maybe thats where I worship best

because I may be surrounded by black and white - but I’ve always only seen in shades of gray, and I’d confess my sins but the lines between heaven and hell get blurrier every day; and maybe i’ll never be that girl again, the one that bit her tongue and broke her heart to be the good Catholic child, and maybe my relationship with God will never look like yours, confident and sure and secure, but broken and messy and maybe we’ll still be okay. -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

ramblings: forever alone

alternately titled: “people ask some questions that make me truly evaluate my present and future love life and this is the word vomit that follows that”

so maybe it’s all one clusterfuck of a life lived in waiting and wondering and moments surrounded by too much and not enough, and maybe I’ll never actually get to witness anyone fall in love with me -

because I’m haunted by all the time I spent dreaming of warmth at night - all the wasted thoughts focused on someone that could love all the little pieces of me that I never could find a way to make myself love - and the excruciating reality that maybe I never was someone that deserved a love like that anyway. -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

27 and still closeted: new year, same me

but I pray for midnight kisses and whispered resolutions like a night of dreaming could give me the courage to take a step into cleaner air -

because breathing is so hard when you don’t have any air - and google says a closet can be anywhere from 3 to 8 feet; yet mine feels like 5 inches for all the freedom I have

and the words are the hardest truth I’ve never really spoken - because the damage could destroy everything I’ve built and all the things I love, and how could I ever know if the reward would be worth the pain? -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

spilling blood & love poems

and i’m drowning in a deep sea of crimson blood because it always seems to be my heart that bleeds for the words so carefully penned to paper; every word pulled forth in heartache and vulnerability -

and I spill liters of blood out for every piece of my heart that I attached to every written poem or note - so do I write for them or me and is it possible to be bled dry in the name of unrequited love? -The Awkward Poet

[awkwardpoetblog]

lesson in longing: desperation

and I fill my notebooks with all the words I could never say out loud; a recluse of my own desperation - I make every attempt to find comfort in the silence. yet somehow my thoughts can’t find a shred of peace.

and I’m equal parts despair and anguish because my prayers are filled with phantom touches and forehead kisses - like raindrops on my overheated skin but how can I long for someone I’ve never met? -The Awkward Poet

[get-with-it-or-get-out]

I think we feel it the most at night because at the end of the day our hearts just want to be home, but our homes aren’t always where we rest our heads.

[awkwardpoetblog]

i saw this quote yesterday and i spent the entire night thinking about it and somehow this is the word vomit that followed:

and the space next to me is occupied by kind words and a nice smile - but the words are empty and the smiles have been fake since the day I took the vow. and the twisted question haunts every fiber of my being: is home where you lay your head or where you rest your heart?

because as a young girl, I made a decision to safely lay my head in a bed of half lived happiness in order to protect the fragile layers of a heart that had been broken from too many years of too little love. and I cling to the decision with the last of my fingertips because the alternative is too terrifying to think about.

but in the dead of the night, with only soft snores to keep me company, I’m surrounded by the aching desire of the ‘what-ifs’ and the heartwrenching wonder of a life lived in a blissful contentment where I might be able to answer both questions with the same answer.

[awkwardpoetblog]

and sometimes sleeping is hard;

because sometimes the night is too quiet, and my yearning for somebody to love is too loud -

and I’m marked by my own discombobulated and broken words that I use to fit a narrative that I don’t know how to escape from.

because my life is one false line after another, a poetic mess of twisted and fabricated moments and a mask of indifference to cover all the shame and pain I never figured out how to hide -

and exhaustion runs deeper than the blood in my veins but I still can’t get the longing to stop, -The Awkward Poet