words feed me better

Follow me on Instagram: @gaapoetry ✄........................................................................................................................................... ✧･of course you should be afraid. i'm writing about you, aren't i? ✄............................................................................................................................................ © This work by gaapoetry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Content shall not be reproduced or modified without the consent of the writer. ✄..........................................................................................................................................

[nosebleedclub]

Are you a weapon?

[gaapoetry]

No, but god I wish I was. I cry when I feel overwhelmed. Which now happens at least twice a week. I can’t stop my hands from shaking and my lips from quivering when a voice is raised in my direction. I flinch at sudden movement and I close my eyes during the drop. I wish my edges were jagged enough to cut but they’re more missing puzzle piece then the blade of a knife. I’m not delicate but I’m more bruised knees and skinned palms than I would like to be. More swollen eyes and runaway heart than a weapon ought to be. I smile with blood stained teeth, not from the bite of my words but from one too many bites on my tongue. I want to be a weapon. I want to be a challenge. I want to be a threat to someone other than myself.

[gaapoetry]

It’s a Sunday afternoon and we’re sitting at a table across from each other talking about our grocery list.

It’s a Tuesday night and we’re in the living room sitting in silence, a show playing in the background while scrolling through our phones.

It’s a Thursday morning and our laundry is still in the wash so I throw on your old shirt you’re surprised you still own.

It’s 3am on a Wednesday and I get up to use the bathroom and you’re reaching for me even in your sleep.

It’s a Saturday night and I’m yelling from the bathroom that we forgot to buy toilet paper.

It’s a Monday afternoon and you text me a picture of mangos on sale, “it’s a 3 for a 1 deal!” on your way to lunch at the office.

It’s raining on a Friday and you hope your favorite baseball team’s game doesn’t rain out while I remind you that taxes are due on the 15th.

In another life, we’re picking up toilet paper on our way back home from dinner. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

i talk about her like she's mine.

she lives in the air i breathe. stealing the thunder. stealing the show. stealing any spare thought. at every spare moment.

she visits me in my dreams. whispers sweet nothings into my ear. promises of future maybes. hushing away any present what-ifs.

i once told her about my fear of ghosts. of spirits that walk among the living. the chill that starts in the spine when a shadow clouds rationale. she has since perfected the art of haunting.

i wish she'd leave me alone.

i wish she'd call herself mine.

she has killed me in every way possible but still won't give back my heart. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

i do not love him.

and i’ll say this flutter in my chest isn’t for want or need. it is not burning that consumes me. the nights spent awake wondering how you are and what dreams inhabit your mind do not keep me warm.

this desire to see your face and listen to the softness of your voice is merely just longing for a companion to ease the boredom of an uneventful day.

surely, there are better songs to sing and melodies to listen to that sound half as good as your whisper in my ear. and there has to be something that feels just as—if not more— lovely than your fingers running down my spine.

this isn’t love.

this is a howl to the moon. a challenge to the stars that are not in my eyes. a threat to dim their lights and to settle back into the sky.

this is a battle cry to the heavens. a harrowing to the gods and goddesses that giggle in jest to all those who swoon at love’s feet.

i am not yours.

wind can not be caught and i am a hurricane. i am a tempest to your calm and you do not electrify my senses.

i do not love him.

but what if he loved me?

what happens when there's a chink in your armor? -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

i love you. and this body is made of flesh and blood and too much heart and too little confidence reflected in windows and steamed bathroom glass.

i love you. and some days are grey and the bones in my fingers and the knobs of my knees don't mirror the flesh under my chin and the swell of my belly.

i love you. and your ability to run distances and wrap others in hugs and write lines of love on top of lines of growth.

i love you. and your cheeks that puff when you smile and your nose that scrunches when you think and your thighs that squish when you sit.

i love you. and your ability to spin stories from midair and your willingness to give everything a try and your courage to stay yourself in a world that tries to change you.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

and i will tuck that mantra in between bites and hang it over the vanity and the tags of social media posts.

i love you. please tell me you love me too.

i wish i didn't have to fight tooth and nail for your approval -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

they say not to make a home out of a person but i’ve never found a statement to be so untrue. i’ve spent 27 years in this body trying to redecorate and rebuild. trying to place a welcome mat on the front door and string lights in the living room. i've ripped down posters that no longer served me and replaced frames of people i no longer know.

but i’ve found the kitchen to be a place where knives are kept and my bedroom a mess of insecurities strewn on the floor. i've lost the key to the basement. all dark corners and unlabeled boxes. a broken toy or two or five. the attic isn't any better. a layer of dust settles into every nook and cranny. moths have chewed through the fraying curtains. and i'm running out of investments to salvage what i can from the erosion of thoughts and time.

don’t make a person your home they said, but i’ve been stuck with myself for 27 years. and i’m tired of rebuilding.

if home can’t be a person, when can i invite myself back in? -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

"truth or dare?" she asks. eyebrows raised.

"truth." you say. heart pounding at what a dare could mean this late in the game.

"you still have feelings for him?" a statement formed into a question.

the world pauses. your chest a little tighter than it was a second ago. silence heavy on your shoulders.

she waits. gaze steady as your nails dig crescents into your trembling palms.

"i wish i could hear his name without feeling anything."

Stories i'll never tell (#4) -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

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Maybe we can start again. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

Prompt: When someone dies, they are met with those that they killed when they were alive. When you died it wasn't a surprise that there were lots and lots of insects and small critters there, but what caught you off guard was the three people you've never once met in your life.

1. You don't recognize her. In fact, you swear you've never met her once in your life. You take in her unwashed hair, eyes bloodshot and too big for her face, zip-up hoodie ratted with more holes than should be on a single piece of clothing. You reach out to her, if only to see how she is able to stand in front of you. She flinches. Eyes that were once void of emotion filled with fear and a second later, resignation. Defeat. The shoulder of her hoodie slips, revealing an arm full of yellow and green and slashes of angry red. Skin puckered in some places. Your stomach clenches. The initial shock of seeing a room full of insects overshadowed by your mourning. And perhaps grim satisfaction. Without her, you wouldn't be here. Standing after a lifetime of successes. Sure, it wasn't always the easiest. The road to recovery is a long and arduous journey. But you are grateful to her. You shrug off your own hoodie. Well worn but still smelling of the detergent you used when you were living. And offer it to her.

2. Wailing. Someone is wailing. The shrill sound cutting into your already pounding thoughts. And there it sits. Dark brown eyes blinking up at you in bewilderment. Chubby arms and tiny fingers waving. Flailing more like. You walk over slowly, fascinated at its innocence. Of course, you grimly remember, that night wasn't so innocent. You were too scared to leave your house. Let alone let anyone see you after what happened. Your mother was in denial at first. The little pink plus sign more religion than rapture. Then she was angry. More at you than him. Then begrudged understanding. But your best friend. He wasn't your best friend anymore. You'd torn yourself apart night after night wondering if it was your fault it had happened. You weren't wearing anything revealing. You weren't even dressed up for anything. It was going to be just another hang out, watching old movies and talking about how Mrs. Cao used to make you both sing duets when your families got together. Even at 9 you were still inseparable. Why did it have to change? You thought he understood. You didn't return his feelings. In fact, you were pretty sure HE just wasn't what you preferred. He didn't see it that way. You shiver. Big brown eyes still looking up at you. Full of wonder. Although, you much prefer this set over his. Demanding. Domineering. You back away. Stomach queasy, trying to block out those eyes that seemed to continue to follow you, even after you were sure you had disappeared from their line of sight.

3. There he was. Skin wrinkled and tanned from the years spent working in the fields. His eyes crinkled at the corners when your eyes meet his for the first time in years. Smile bright and arms wide, ready for a hug that smelled of baby powder, your favorite fried plantains, and the roses from his garden he loved to tend too. You laugh. Eyes wet as you squeeze harder. "I missed you nakkong", gently murmured into your ear. Now your nose is running and you're a blubbering mess, tripping over your words to try and catch him up with everything that has happened since. Before the decision was made for the plug to be pulled. It had been years of no response. The machines whirring in the background as the days passed and hope dwindled. It was the best decision for him. It didn't make it any less painful. You wondered if he resented you for playing God. But here? Now? You could see no resentment in his eyes. Only unconditional love and joy. He laughs, cupping your face in his hands like he used to do when you were a child crying about a scraped knee. "It's okay, you are not alone. Everything is going to be okay."

[gaapoetry]

she asks: Where do you want to be?

i thought i wanted to be here. career on the precipice of starting. the final hurdle before something great. another sleepless night and another task and another "can you do me a favor" place closer to that dream. that i'd be in my sunlit studio with fluffy white sheets and a kitchen with the cookies i made last night cooling on countertops. i'd be gone from my town and i'd be comfortable in my own skin. maybe a boyfriend. maybe a shelf holding a spine with my name.

but now "not here" fights to get off my tongue. i want to be kind to myself in the ways i have neglected. somewhere i can watch the sunset after a day of comfortably doing nothing. i want to be calmer. i want to be sitting in the grass. underneath cotton wisp clouds or maybe a glow-in-the-dark etch-a-sketch sky. where safe is no longer an idea but a tangible, reachable place. like you can call me and i will pick up without dreading the news on the other end.

beside people maybe. to take their hand and show them my favorite spots and on couches with our favorite shows. beside packed bags and an open schedule. i want to be the last person before the gates close. or maybe next in line. sitting by a shore where the water touches the sky. listening to my friends joke about silly things. reveling in shared memories and laughter. i want another night. another groggy morning. another "we're going to miss the train! don't forget to lock the door on your way out."

to be happier mostly. a place of content. still sunlit rooms but also fresh air. to be at peace with myself and taking breaks when i can. to remember to breathe and listen to birds sing. a place where i can finally answer, "here".

You deserve more. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

Just fucking kiss me already. 

I don’t know where you stand and I’m dumb and I once told a boy I’d help him get a girl but when he said “I just need you” I looked at him and laughed and said “well that’s a sad thing to need”. 

And I don’t know what it means when you tell me you want me because when your name lights up my phone I want you next to me. And when I hear a song I like it’s you I want to share it with. And oh god I’m I know I’m selfish but I want to be the reason for your laughter. 

You’re all maybe one foot in and maybe halfway out the door and I’m too dense to understand you or maybe I’m just skittish because I’ve let people in that didn’t deserve a key. 

The world is confusing as hell and I can’t figure out if you want to be left alone or if you want me closer. 

So just fucking kiss me already and tell me if you like me because the world is up in flames and I’m an oblivious mess and really what have we got to lose?

Ambiguity is a poet’s first love. Maybe that’s why I fell in love with you. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

If she is a temple I want to lay my offerings of worship at her feet. What am I but skin and bones full of want and need? Please dear deities and gods of the universe. What can I do to ease this suffering? What penance is there for too much greed? Too much yearning and longing for soft skin and lingering gazes and rooms filled with forbidden touches? What saint is there to pray to? To beg to? To sell every bit of my soul to? When every saint worth mentioning seems to have been burned alive for loving what was not to be loved? She’s all steamed glasses and tangled curls and laughter that makes my chest constrict. And I’m waiting in line for my turn at her alter. Knobby knees and trembling palms. Waiting for a signal to go forward. To continue on in her good graces. Please dear universe and all the gods and powers that be. What am I without her and is there a future of her with me?

We speak prayers against each other’s lips that answer questions even the gods wouldn’t dare ask. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

There’s only so much I can do. I’ve been so distracted. Doodling lines of poetry on my skin and in the margins of papers with letters that keep spelling out your name. I keep thinking how good i would be to you. How many places I could take you and all the things I want to do with you. Baby, I’m not much but i’ve got two hands that long to touch you and arms that want to hold you. And how sappy it is of me to want to hear your laughter in the morning or listen to your voice low at night. I’m over the moon over you and oh god I think I’ve got it so very bad. 

Oh. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

I’ve got blisters on my feet from running so much. From what I’m uncertain but if you asked “to who”, well the answer is always to you.

You’ve been running circles in my mind all day. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

Tell me all about the things that excite you. I love reveling in your delight and being in this moment with you. All overflowing joy and sparkling eyes and limbs drawing pictures in the air. Your words tripping over each other. One idea blending into the next. Like yes! Let me hear about your favorite hobby and please tell me all about your new discovery. No! Of course it’s not dumb and of course I want to know more. I’m in love with watching your eyes light up and the hurried words that tumble from your mouth. It breaks my heart when you stop mid-sentence, wide-eyed and hesitant, hands falling limply to your sides when a second ago they were dancing on cloud nine. Backtracking and applogizing for boring me or talking for too long. Because it means someone once told you to calm down. To pack your excitment and pasion back into a box. I like YOU and listening to you makes my heart happy. And I can’t pretend to follow everything you say but fuck I don’t care. That just means I get to learn about something new. Talk to me until your throat is raw! Let me pull up a chair and listen to your TED talk! I’m excited to know more.

Passion comes in many forms and I’m glad you’ve found yours. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

1. I miss you I miss you I miss you. I miss you in the way the sky misses the sun during a week of rain storms and the clouds overhead are dark and gloomy. There are shadows in places that were once bathed in sunlight and god I miss your warmth.

2. It's been months but I still have the same feelings I had for you back then. I know I'm dumb and holding on to hope has been something that's fucked me up in the past but why oh why can't I stop thinking about you?

3. Can we do that again?

4. I’m tired but I still want to be that person for you. I’m scared that what I have to offer isn’t enough. Or maybe I missed the opportunity to be the one you need. But I’m trying. I really am trying but I keep loosing pieces of myself while picking yours off the floor.

5. Can we talk about it?

6. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t remember the last time you looked at me. Really looked at me. Past the smile and the jokes and the barely there responses. I keep finding excuses to say “next time will be better” but it’s been months and we’re stuck at a standstill. And I wish I could say you feel the same way but my gut tells me you aren’t ready. I wish this wouldn’t hurt as much as it does. I know all I’ve got to offer are words but i swear i tried. i’m sorry i wasn’t strong enough to keep trying. 

7. *insert your name here*

8. Why did you do it? The cuts have healed but the scars are still there and my hands still shake at the mention of your name. 

9. I don’t think I’m talented enough to do the things I want to do. And you’ll say I just need practice and it just takes time. But how many years has it been and I’m still here crawling after a dream that never seems to get any closer. And maybe I’m running away and maybe you’re right but why is it that when I look in the mirror all I see are smoke and ash and the shell of a person scraped raw of potential?

10. i know you like him. But keeping it in has been rotting me from the inside out. i like him too.

Things I would say if I wasn’t so afraid. -𝑔𝒶𝒶

[gaapoetry]

oh no it’s happening again. i keep finding excuses to talk to you and my friends are getting tired of the ways i slip you into conversations. But I’m addicted to the thrill. You’re a shot of liquid courage and i’m drunk on the way your name tastes on my tongue.

I keep coming back for more. -𝑔𝒶𝒶