harmony’s poetry

Only by learning to live in harmony with your contradictions can you keep it all afloat.

[harmony]

October grief is funny. It doesn’t announce its arrival before it pounces on you from within shadows of the walk-in freezer. Doesn’t bother with introductions but damn it sure can make one hell of an entrance.

October grief is lonely. It sets your memories ablaze and makes nostalgia burn in ways you were never trained to extinguish.

October grief is quiet. October grief is loud. October is long and the grief has teeth and suddenly nothing makes sense anymore. The grief separates you from your sense of direction, sense of self.

Separates.

Grief is contradictory. Grief is everything and nothing you prepared for. Grief is all of and somehow none of the above but any answer you select is wrong. Is right. Is neither. Grief is sad, October is sad, you are sad.

October grief establishes a future haunting.

[harmony]

you are not better than me just because your demons have names and mine hide behind my own

[harmony]

And when you return the bones you’ve been borrowing, will they be cleaned of the blood spilled by your hands?

Will the healed breaks still be visible?

Will she accept them back into her or will she refuse to touch them?

Will they still reek of fear? Are they still steeped in sadness? Did they finally stop shaking?

Who were you?

Was it worth it?

Were you?

Do you even remember being alive?

Does that possibility make your blood run cold?

Can you bear to fathom the chance she’ll deny you your final request?

Does unexecuted and unfound potential terrify you?

………………………..

THEN WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

[harmony]

i’m looking at the sun and you’re looking at the moon and the stars are begging us to look at each other

[harmony]

When I was a little girl, I used to wish on dirty old pennies that I threw into fountains. I’d wish for extravagant things that a 10 year old girl dreamed of. Fame and fashion and love and romance and a thousand golden adventures beneath the sky of my imagination.

Years later, more of an adult than a child but still in the middle, I throw my penny into the water of the fountains and my wish has been the same ever since:

I wish to be happy.

[harmony]

how vain of me to think myself some kind of god because i stumbled across a wet worm on my morning walk and put it back on the damp grass

[harmony]

and suddenly it’s another november of another year

of another year

of another year

and so on and so it goes and every september you think the next october will be better, perhaps the next november will be more healing than the last and and you can never live in the present because you’re so focused on the you of the future figuring it out

[harmony]

part of making poetry is making bad poetry. and i don’t mean that you can’t write, of course you can, you know you can (you’ve seen it), but great poets are not always great poets. often there are terrible poems - for one reason or another it’s just not there. maybe it doesn’t convey what you need it to or maybe it’s not strong or maybe when you re-read it you just hate it.

this is all part of being a poet. of being any writer, honestly, but especially poets. you have to be okay with writing poems that don’t fit your own criteria, you have to be okay with writing poems that ultimately lead to nowhere. you have to be okay with writing absolute shit because sometimes through all that shit you’ll get some good shit. 

writing poetry is all about writing shitty poetry, too.

and don’t let the fear of writing badly stop you from writing. writing badly is better than not writing. writing a bad poem is still creating poetry.

so go out there and write all the bad poems you need to. 

[harmony]

how do you feel about someone writing a poem or sippet based of your writing? cuz ive been thinking about the vodka in the dresser one for a while and its kinda inspiring me, but i don't wanna write or share something if you arent comfortable.

omg holy shit please do!!!! like, i would love that. all art is inspired by other art - maybe that art is a sunset or another person's poem or a tv show or a movie or lived experiences - it's all art!! if ANYTHING i have ever said inspires even a small amount of someone else's creativity, i would LOVE to see it.

please do share and if you DM me i'd love to see it!!! like please do. id be more than comfortable with that

[harmony]

how much of your own soul will you kill to absolve yourself of living?

[harmony]

the words in my veins are stuck,

so i make them bleed.

and they tell me that pain is beauty and madness is genius.

i think i’d rather be boring.

[harmony]

how cruel that my grave haunts me, empty as it is

[harmony]

medicating my future with my past, turning what has been into what will inevitably be, i am robbing me of myself. 

— how long can you steal from yourself until there's nothing left?

[harmony]

i don't know why i crave the bitter taste of your cruel indifference but recently the honey just tastes like poison and the poison keeps calling my name -

but sweet things always turn to dust in my mouth and i can’t stop myself from craving anything that promises me it'll kill me.

[harmony]

but if i can’t make you love me, i’ll teach you to hate me instead.

[harmony]

i’m new on tumblr and i randomly added people here. i read others’ stories but it was this account that i’ve spent much time reading. argh! love your work! 🤍 continue to inspire us all!

oh wow hi anon! this is really cute :’) thank you so much! your words mean a lot to me, thank you so much for taking the time to send this my way. i’ll try my best! <3

[harmony]

i rest my own hand against my face, leaning into my palm. for a moment, i believe it’s you.

—  you can put your hand wherever you want, darling, but that won’t make you theirs