and here you are living despite it all

i'm zoë and i like to write

[garlandsofsunflowers]

i wish i knew you

you ask me

“is it possible to

miss someone you’ve

never known?”

and so i think.

i think of my grandpa.

how he got to see how

beautiful my mother was

while she was pregnant,

but he never got to hold me.

i think of my great grandmother.

i saw her once

a month, but

she died not remembering

my name.

i think of the girl from my school who died last year.

i never spoke a

word to her,

but somehow

my heart is heavy with

the knowledge that she

will never eat dinner

with her parents again.

i think of my grandma.

and how i know she smelled

like lavender, but

i don’t know what

her voice sounded like.

i think of the

kids who never turned

sixteen or never had

their first kiss.

i will never know their

faces, but i pray to

God, asking why my life

could ever be worth more

than theirs.

so to you i say

yes.

it is possible

to miss them.

for i haven’t known

so many people,

but oh, how i wish

that i had.

[garlandsofsunflowers]

promise me this

a quick poem since it’s been a bit

i like to spend

my time

picking out

tattoos

the thought of loving

something so much

that i want it forever

intoxicates me

maybe it’s not the

tattoo

but the hope that

one day i will have made

the promise of a

lifetime

[the-sleepy-poet]

a rebuttal 7 years late

had that dream

middle of the  day again –

brain walked  backwards to college –

toe, heel,  toe, heel, 

to that class i  couldn’t stand

where 

we all overthought 

about art 

and we had just finished listening to 

a composition 

that

grabbed me by the wrist and 

dragged me through a sewer and

i was particularly moved and the  professor went

on and on 

about the meaning and the symbolism and the structure   

and i asked “but i can’t just like the song because of what it made me feel?

we’ve got to reverse engineer it?

deconstruct it piece by piece?”

and the professor’s nostrils stared me down from above his red haystack mustache

while his mouth spewed crap – 

and nobody teaches you that

‘til it’s too late:

that a lot of what you learn in school is opinion, 

and his was this: 

“you can’t because it’s an insult to the artist. 

you’ve got to  understand art to appreciate it,” 

and in this little brainy jaunt,

i asked him: 

“well do you know why he wrote this piece?”

and he said,

“well because the man’s wife left him,”

“why?” i asked

“because she fell in love with  another man,” 

again i asked, “why?”

“because she  was mistress to a man who was  married to music. he had no time for her.”

“well why?”

and he said  “because the man had a need to create –  a suffocating  compulsion to write  music which consumed his whole life,” 

“why?” i asked,

“what do you mean, ‘why?’”  

“well why did he have that compulsion?”

“why does any artist create?” 

“yes that’s what i’m asking.” 

“well i mean, nobody can understand that for sure…”

“then i suppose nobody can fully appreciate art,” i said… “still, the piece is very beautiful.”

[kiramalibu]

[boredbbyy]

can’t help falling in love on a kalimba

[hogwartsconsultingtimelady]

This radiates calm

[garlandsofsunflowers]

the gardener

for my ruthie, who has rooted herself into my heart.

the gardener cares

for all she sees

she knocks down walls,

makes room for trees.

around she goes

to those who mope

planting in them

seeds of hope.

her passion grows

like wild vines

hard to trim,

easy to climb.

she is strong

because plants are weak

she is the voice,

for some can’t speak.

the gardener has

a beautiful soul

one that many

will never know.

but who she finds

will surely feel,

for many hearts

the gardener will heal.

[imagination]

The End of the F***ing World (2017)

[garlandsofsunflowers]

sweet girl

oh sweet girl,

I know it’s hard

to fight those demons

that are trapped inside

your head.

oh sweet girl,

I know it hurts

like hell to pretend

that you’re okay

when you want to

scream so loud that

your window shatters.

oh sweet girl,

I know what it’s like to

feel so lost in a

place so crowed

yet feel so detached

from the world.

sweet girl, listen to me.

this world doesn’t

deserve you.

but when you feel

so sad that the

color yellow and

a warm bowl of

oatmeal can’t save you,

look inside yourself.

there you will find

your solace.

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

via @extramadness

[garlandsofsunflowers]

PSA

you can hurt.

never let someone make you feel like you can’t have emotions. you can be in pain. just because someone else has it worse than you, does not mean you can’t have problems.

you can hurt.

let yourself hurt.

[garlandsofsunflowers]

envy

is it possible to

envy everyone

but myself?

for they have

had the pleasure

of never loving

you.

[forgoldendays]

I am such a huge fan of kindness. Everyone be kind. Be crazy kind. Be kind even when you don’t feel like it. Be kind in the morning, be kind late at night, be kind like it is the only thing you were put on earth to do. You will be amazed at how beautiful kindness makes you.

[rm-drake-lines]

[garlandsofsunflowers]

please come back to me

I think I lost myself

a long time ago.

maybe it was amongst the

allure of the world and the

pain of my past.

it hurts to think of

my former self.

she’s probably

wandering the streets,

her only guide the

hazy light of the moon.

she’s probably alone and lost

and doesn’t know what to do.

i don’t know how to

find her again,

but i’ll leave the porch light on

and the back door unlocked at night.

maybe one day she’ll see me

in my yellow dress and

introduce herself.

and with a tight hug

and a few tears,

i’ll welcome her home.

[olearypoetry]

[garlandsofsunflowers]

what do you want to be when you grow up?

if you would’ve asked me this a few years ago i would’ve had a very different answer. i wanted to be an astronomer, a musician, an engineer. i wanted to do something so amazing with my life, everyone looked back in awe of how far i had gone. ask me the question today, and you might be confused. when i grow up, i want to live in a house. a house so full of the color yellow, in it i could drown the memories still coated in black. i want a bed that lulls me to sleep on the nights when my monsters become real, tugging at my feet from the edge of my mattress. i want a field of sunflowers in my backyard to lay in when the breaths that i breathe carry more weight than the picture of you in my back pocket. i want a library so huge i could lose myself in the words of literature instead of the words you’ve whispered to me. i want to be happy. so happy that my tears are made of gold and silver, and my heart is soft enough to love again. maybe that wasn’t the answer you wanted, but we rarely get what we ask for. if we did, i would be grown up, picking petals from flowers, and no longer wishing for my soul to be a home.

[garlandsofsunflowers]

hands

my hands are soft,

maybe from the way

I wipe them on my shirt

when i’m around you

my hands are shaky,

probably from how much

I talk about you,

scared of being obvious

my hands are cold,

maybe from the way I never

wear gloves just in case

you want to hold my hand

I wonder if your hands are warm,

because they always seem

to be in your pockets,

far too hidden for me to reach

I imagine your hands are calloused,

from the way you pluck

on my heartstrings

as if I am a violin to be played

I know your hands are taken

from the way they stray

towards someone else,

someone that’s not me

I wish your hands

were more delicate.

maybe then you would’ve

seen my heart sitting in them

before you dropped it