~whispers of love in the late night~

[hopefulromantical]

do you ever look up at the stars

and wonder where your line leads

is it right next to you

or halfway ‘cross the galaxy

will the constellation show tonight

or will it be tomorrow

or is it ever going to make sense

if i close my eyes i can almost hear

the song that the stars are singing

i can feel it in my heart

the rhythm matching my pulse

do you feel it too?

it’s tugging at my thoughts

but always staying just out of sight

[hopefulromantical]

i met my younger self for coffee today. 

she was ten minutes late, i was five. 

she had a hot mocha latte, the same drink she always got because familiarity brought her comfort. i asked for the barista’s recommendation and ordered an iced brown sugar cinnamon latte. 

she was wearing a t-shirt and light blue jeans with faded blue converse. she walked in with a hoodie on too, even though it was hot outside. i wore the same converse with comfy white linen pants and a navy striped tank top. 

her hair was long, mine is much shorter with more obvious waves. i could see her eyeing my mostly grown out bangs as she kept nervously readjusting her own.

we met at the coffeeshop downtown by the community college, while i was visiting home on break from university. 

she mentioned that she was going to hang out with a friend afterwards, and i excitedly told her that although that friend would move far away for college, our friendship would only grow stronger. 

she told me about the boy she’d had a crush on for years, and i could hear the pain in her voice, knowing she just needed to be wanted. i showed her the initial on my necklace and told her that God was saving her heart for a man who would love her unconditionally and pursue her to the ends of the earth.

i noticed the bags under her eyes as she asked if i still felt like i was never doing or being enough. i chose my answer carefully and said that i had learned that i alone am never enough. her eyes lit up as i showed her my heavily annotated bible, worn from being well loved. 

we sat there and wondered at the differences between us. our conversation gave her hope that the light at the end of the tunnel wasn’t too far off.  and it brought me joy recognizing that she looked up to who i have become today. 

i wanted so badly to tell her how all the puzzle pieces fit together or how to avoid the hard lessons and heartbreak, but i just gave her a hug and reminded her to love those in front of her well and that all anyone can ask is for her to do her best. 

i hope i can get coffee with her again soon. 

[hopefulromantical]

it’s a different kind of lonely 

to be surrounded by people yet never known 

to be looked right at and yet not seen 

to never be heard in the many voices 

it feels like the shock of cold water 

leaving a world where i can be blindfolded 

yet trust the end for i know that i am known 

to where i’m supposed to see clearly

yet it feels as if i myself am never seen 

[hopefulromantical]

i have a playlist sitting empty on my phone.

"my playlist #110"

it lies in wait for the just-right opportunity

the ideal songs to fit a perfect number

one hundred nine playlists, three years of my life

spanning three different friend groups and every stage of falling in love

a new playlist is a blank page

a chance to start over or continue a story

yet this playlist sits empty, waiting.

i'm not sure what i'm waiting for

the perfect opportunity will never come

i'll always lie in wait for a better one

it's the same reason i don't use my favorite stickers

or journals or pens or postcards or shoes

and when i was eight i left the last page of my diary blank

i'm always waiting for the perfect time

but if you wait too long, it'll never come

playlist #110 will always sit empty on my phone.

as a reminder of what was and what will come.

playlists #111 and #112 and #113 have come and gone already

and my favorite journal will still collect dust on my shelf.

but maybe one day i will live like there's no tomorrow

for through the waiting and sitting around

maybe i will learn that now is the only time to know

and maybe the grass is greener where you water it

and maybe the gold isn't at the end of the rainbow

maybe it's right there at your feet

and if you look too far you'll miss it

[hopefulromantical]

photosynthesis

the sun gently kissing my skin

my cheeks pink from your touch 

the wind tossing strands of my hair 

windows down, music up 

seventy degrees, salty air 

i’m soaking in this moment 

photosynthesizing in your love 

[hopefulromantical]

 missing poetesses

c.n.a.

age: too young to know, too old to admit, that she doesn’t know what she’ll be

sex: those who would cause men to die, cities to war, and gods to fight over one’s beauty and wisdom

eyes: light the color of warmth, like that of chocolate or copper,  falling leaves or espresso beans

wearing: a cream white sweater, her favorite pair of jeans, faded blue converse, with a vintage pearl ring, gold hoop earrings, and his initial around her neck

last seen: sitting on the top floor of java dog cafe, tucked in the corner next to the random photograph titled “mushroom patch 2,” sipping from a small maple white mocha latte (the barista’s suggestion when she couldn’t decide), with earbuds singing the ballad of cleopatra. 

l.e.s.

age: older than the stars in the sky, younger than the fresh fall of rain 

sex: wouldn’t you like to know 

eyes: dark as the bottom of a well at midnight, you can look down into it and the stars look back

wearing: a brown hippie skirt and her dark green short girl converse with too many rings to count and a rbf 

last seen:  in a thrift store looking for more clothes that make her look like a pirate or a princess or somehow both, probably staring into the distance,  definitely listening to Jackie and Wilson by Hozier, she had Dracula and Inferno in her tote bag God only knows when she’ll finish either of them

cara and lindsay, hopeless romantics, went missing from the riverfront today at 5:43 pm. some are saying that they may have sailed away into the sunset, but it’s more likely they fell through the pages of their soft-cover dreams.  a reward of the few cents in their checking accounts and the combined values of their beaten up old blue cars is offered if you find them sitting on the windowsills of a cottage in the woods, books in hand, with homemade brownies in the oven and a cat curled by the fireplace. you should be forewarned that they may, unprompted and without warning, begin discussing the greatest contemplations of life or mythologies behind the connections of celestial beings. they may also try to turn every moment into an aesthetic polaroid photo. 

the authors wish you godspeed in your search for these two, and offer the suggestion that they may be tempted with the offer of kisses on the forehead, a warm cup of tea, and a taylor swift song. l.e.s. can be drawn out with an offering of a tall blue eyed brown haired boy, and c.n.a. won’t be able to stay long without running into the arms of he who would move the heavens and earth for her heart. find them if you can, keep them if you may, but know that once earned, their love will never fade. 

[hopefulromantical]

the easiest love

to love unrequited 

is the easiest kind of love

to fall into and the hardest to get out of

it’s love without effort

and yet it sucks the life out of you

to love when love isn’t needed

is to endlessly pour out 

without being poured into

yet you’re frozen in place

unable to end the cycle 

it’s the easiest kind of love

because there’s no expectations

no requirements to meet

or agreements to fulfill

but it’s the hardest kind of love

because you create expectations 

you set the rules for yourself 

that you’ll love until you’re loved

or you’ll die trying 

or maybe you won’t die

but you will lose yourself

for if you call yourself a lover

and make it your pride and self

then loving without being loved

becomes your expectation

you’ll think you’re the only one

who ever has loved so deep

when really you’ve dug yourself

into an hole that’s far too low 

you can’t climb out yourself 

you must stretch out your hand 

and allow yourself to be helped

by realizing you are loved

there’s only one way that exists

to break the endless cycle

you must come to receive love 

and let that be who you are

know that you are loved

not an empty lover 

not an endless faucet 

but a flower growing tall

watered by those who love

and not giving of your lifeblood 

to those who truly don’t

there’s no honor given 

to she who loved the longest

without return or relief 

it doesn’t spread love’s fame

to never be requited 

the only honor is that 

which is given to yourself

when you claim what is yours

your heart and mind and life 

and the love that has renown

is love that is shared 

two hearts with one flame 

endlessly pouring yet being filled 

that is the hardest love

yet it is the truest 

not to die for someone

who wouldn’t live for you

but to live for the one 

who would die for you 

[hopefulromantical]

about me

my name is Cara, it means “beloved,” which makes sense because i view everything through the lens of love. i love with everything in me, a romantic who’s learning to be hopeful and not less. when i love, i pour out all of my heart, mind, and soul like a waterfall’s rushing waters and those who dare love me back must be able to pass through to reach the safety of my heart. all i desire from this existence is to love and be loved well.

i believe that to be loved is to be truly known, yet i have a tendency to hide my heart behind walls because those who tried to know me without loving me left their knife in my back and scars that throb from time to time. 

i recently saw my first shooting stars while lying on a blanket on the beach in the middle of a warm summer’s night. every time i look up at the night sky, i try to find the few constellations i know. orion with his bow and belt, the big dipper and her baby bear, and the sign that was high when i entered the world. as the stars twinkle, i can sense the song that they sing, and i long to know the words, that i too might praise.

music and poetry are the language of my heart, yet i’ve never called myself an artist. rather, i’m a writer. in my mind, art is creation, while a writer must simply put into words what she is thinking. i do not create, i merely echo creation and its call to its creator.

i’ve never been a girly girl but my favorite sunset is when the clouds turn purple and pink, and whenever i see it i think God painted it just for me that night. i want the first ink on my body to be a dragonfly because since I was younger they have always represented the presence of the author of life to me.

i hear the whispers of love all around me, from the stars in the dark of night to the crash of the waves on the sand; from the wind playing with my hair to the rainfall on my windowpane. i want my words to share those whispers with others and my actions to create shouts of their own.

[hopefulromantical]

“oh songbird”

oh songbird why do you try to escape

these walls were made to keep you safe 

oh songbird why are you so scared

you’ve only ever been treated with love

oh songbird i know you’re confused 

they tell you to sing and then to not 

while the sun shines your tune is welcome 

but when the moon rules you must be silent

oh songbird why do you want to be free

why should you fly when you can stay

the winds are dangerous and fierce 

there are predators afoot in the wild

oh songbird you don’t need to be loved

for your cage was made out of love

oh songbird you don’t need to fly 

stay here and let us hear your song

oh songbird i know your heart burns

to feel the current lift you higher

to soar over the earth and sea 

to sing your song loud and free 

but songbird you will miss the cage

you cannot eat your song 

nor be sheltered by the wind on your wings 

oh songbird you will miss my hand

oh songbird don’t you leave the cage 

oh songbird you shouldn’t want to leave 

oh songbird you should be happy here 

now songbird, sing your lovely tune 

oh songbird why are you so quiet  

songbird why do your feathers droop

songbird where have your colors gone 

songbird why won’t you sing your song 

[hopefulromantical]

fall is the season of the poets

where we come crawling from our hobbit holes 

as the world prepares for its long slumber 

we sit awake, writing as the candle burns low

as the green turns brown and living things die 

we make the things without breath come alive 

as the leaves drift from the branches of the trees 

so we slowly fall into the captivating eyes of Love

as the sun makes its way to hide below the earth 

we look up to read the stories in the stars 

as the moon gives way to the changing seasons 

our pages reflect the tides of our hearts 

[hopefulromantical]

when i feel empty in my soul, 

i know it’s me who’s far from You 

because if it was truly your absence 

i would not longer have breath to live 

for it is your Word that shaped me

your Light that gives me form

your Breath that sustains me 

your Song that is in my heart

without You, I am nothing 

for you are the Author of life

the Creator of the stars

if all the universe sings your Song

if all the world reflects your Light

than how can You be far from me

if all around and in me resides your Spirit

than it is only me who can choose to blind myself 

or to open my mouth and give You praise 

if You removed your presence from me

i would fall to the floor, unable to stand 

my body without form or shape

i would gasp for air, but never catch a breath

i feel empty but still i exist

thus it cannot be your absence but mine

so help me open my eyes to see

my ears to hear and my heart to know

who You are therefore who i am

and that You will never forsake me 

(inspiration taken from “Prophet” by R.J. Larson)

[hopefulromantical]

from the start, he felt familiar, near,

a smile that melted away her fear,

the little things, the simple signs,

hinting at love in intertwining lines.

"i love you" he says, a promise so true,

he knows her, yet he chooses her too,

in his eyes, her worth she sees,

he loves her with each breath he breathes.

with every day, their love does bloom,

in both of their hearts, there is no room,

for doubt or fear, just love's embrace,

her Gilbert Blythe, her Augustus Grace.

together, they've found a love so deep,

in his arms, she's found a love to keep,

their love so pure, love that will stay,

in their hearts and minds, forever and a day.

through the ups and downs, they will stay strong,

their love is a refuge, where they can belong,

promises of a future, together side by side,

their hearts intertwined, love forever will abide.

through every day, their love does soar,

he sees the her she can't ignore,

in each other’s presence, they find the key,

to love's wild journey, wild and free.

[hopefulromantical]

In moments when I dare to lower my guard,

I'm swiftly reminded why I built it tall and hard.

Like ancient walls, they rise in silent grace,

Hiding my vulnerabilities in their secret place.

For every time I've let someone in,

I've tasted the bitter sting of a love turned thin.

But still, a part of me longs to break free,

To embrace the risk, to let love's current carry me.

Yet fear's whispers echo in my ear,

Cautioning me to keep my emotions clear.

So I rebuild the walls, stone by stone,

A fortress of protection, to be left alone.

Deep inside, a yearning persists,

For love's sweet taste, for the walls to desist.

In a dance of strength and vulnerability,

I navigate the tides of my heart's duality.

The walls may stand, steadfast and tall,

But beneath the surface, I crave to feel it all.

To find the courage, to take the leap,

To embrace the love, even if it's steep.

[hopefulromantical]

when things get too good

i get scared

when i break down my walls

i’m reminded why i built them

finally i can see you

as the leader of the landslide

i now recognize the voice

that’s always in my head

telling me i’ll never do or be enough

because i’ve never been for you

[hopefulromantical]

feels like i’m always viewing life through the rear view mirror

wishing i’d have felt it a little bit clearer

but the wheel is in my hands and if i don’t look where i go

i’m going to crash into my next mountain or end up running off the road

so jesus would you take the wheel

let me breathe and in the moment feel

live life to the fullest; not borrow trouble

and learn the lesson of the little children

[hopefulromantical]

i’m craving the release that comes with crying until i can’t anymore,

until all the emotions that have been building up inside have been turned to trails of salt on my cheeks.

but i’m finding myself unable to cry. unable to feel.

so it’s bottled up inside, drifting on the waves of emotions.

feels like anything could break me, and weakness scares me.

but i’m tired of being strong.

[hopefulromantical]

too many words.

well if you think that’s too many words, you should hear how many thoughts i have.

and if you think those words were harsh, you should hear how i talk to myself.

and if you think i’m being too loud, you should hear the noise inside my head.

and if you think i’m too much, you should know i have to deal with myself too.

and if you think i cry too much, you should see the tears i shed when no one’s around.

and if you think my laugh’s too big, you should know it’s to hide the pain i feel.

and if you think i’m not trying hard enough, you should know i’ll never measure up.

and if you think i talk too much, you should know i leave most of my words unsaid.