I'm just a poet

[imjustapoet]

INTRO!

i'm Dija and this is my poetry blog!

I try to write a poem a day, some of my poems will have Wolof (my native language im senegalese)! I'll add to this intro when i get ideas, but yeah!

feel free to dm me or ask me anything! I'm debating whether or not to tag my main blog, but ILYYYY

also pls remember i just write and post, its not really refined and is just whatever comes to the page!! i do return to refine it eventually!!

[actually-a-bread-loaf]

I need to be sent to the seaside to recover like a sickly Victorian person

[imjustapoet]

10.26.25

i wonder when my heart got twisted, yaye always says i hold onto things for too long,

im slow to forgive, i never move on. Somewhere along the way I think i started to see the dullness in humanity.

I began to notice how much hatred people wrapped around themselves.   

Began to actually hear the cruelty behind peoples words. and maybe its pessimistic, but god, are we cruel.

[imjustapoet]

10. 25. 25

i hate that feeling,

my throat tightening like stretched rubber bands. my eyes burning with tears I refuse to spill. it feel so demeaning, humiliating every time.

why, instead of being able to get my point across does my body betray me? why do my lungs squeeze tight the moment I am so close, to expressing that thing ive been trying to this whole time?

[imjustapoet]

10.23.25

There’s some sorrow in changing plans. 

I’ve had it all planned out to the day, checkpoints to ensure the perfect result. 

I accepted the change, I think. 

But there are also a few pros, although I must stretch to see them. 

I have a few more years to indulge in these moments. 

Tutoring my sisters, playing with my niece, running with my nephew. 

I thought I was moving on to another chapter but I don’t mind this one lasting a little longer. 

[imjustapoet]

10.24.25

there is something odd about it, 

that feeling where i just want to see them happy, 

that weird thing that has me questioning my own standards. 

its even more odd since I don't do irrational, 

I pre-plan and then follow it to the letter. 

and so entrusting my stability to another must be a malfunctioning, a wrong turn somewhere. 

some sort of missed step that has me smiling at them for being so stupid, 

[lunamonchtuna]

“why am i only capable of writing when i am sad?”

Richard Siken: “Because the vocabulary of joy is grunts and moans and the vocabulary of loss is the dictionary.”

[imjustapoet]

10.16.25

Sama Senegal 🇸🇳

I miss home, now you may be imagining cozy blankets and walls you’ve known for years. But I mean my HOME, with smog cities and the best bakeries I’ve been to. 

I miss the brioche dorée and the marchée with everything you need to make a good theiboudienne. 

I miss going to the corniche with a friend, buying coco before people watching. 

I remember wa liberty 6, we would stay up until the mosque was announcing fajr then try to act awake when tonto mbaye asked if we slept well. 

I miss bebe Amy, so much my chest hurts. 

I remember the night we left, aby cried, awa did, and I tried to soothe them with promises of biweekly FaceTimes and a future where we weren’t separated by an ocean. 

Oh, how much I miss home. The feeling of sama Senegal, my Senegal cannot be beat. 

[imjustapoet]

10.14.23

Falling into love with fiction. 

My childhood was a collage of library events and worksheets. 

I lived for the days we’d walk to the library, I’d be more so skipping, and pick out new books. 

Each day I’d flow through novels before excitedly chattering about the characters. 

When everyone started falling in love, friends experienced their first heartbreak, I was switching from sci fi to sci fi romance a discovery that changed the WORLD. 

I personally found it illogical,

trying to love a real person when a book would only hurt you in the best ways.

I had friends come to me, sobbing over boys who did them wrong. I knew I didn’t want to suffer like that

Love was much neater when I could close it and pick it back up again whenever I wished. It’s not as easy to DNF a person. 

So instead, I’ll stick to these books, clean sweet romance that won’t scar me or tie me to a life where all I do is endure cruelty. 

[imjustapoet]

10.13.25 Acceptance Letters

Acceptance letters are pouring in. I open my socials to see people sobbing over getting their dreams. 

I got my letters weeks ago, my college counselor cried. I smiled and assumed she was just sensitive. But then Sophie got her first letter and her parents took her out for dinner. She messaged us all, excitement overflowing. I was so happy for her. And so incredibly envious. 

Don’t misunderstand, I got into everywhere I had applied.

But I couldn’t apply to those schools that would’ve made my heart race.

Because what would my badienne say if I left home to go to Emory or Wellesley

“khale yi danyi jine pur bon rek “These children leave just to go be corrupted.

I could hear the gossip, imagine the looks i knew my mom would get for it.

My mom begged me, got on her knees, and cried for me to stay. To live at home, never go to a dorm, and settle for the mid-level college down the street. What could I do but say, of course? 

What is my success or happiness if I have to sacrifice my moms?

Now acceptances are coming in, and people are debating where they should go. I wish I could be excited, too. 

[imjustapoet]

10.12.25

Everyone is getting ready for graduation 

Planning who they’ll invite and what dresses they’ll wear 

In the commons they are talking about sitting with their mom and dad, planning for the future

At commencement every person is given 2 chairs. Only one isn’t filled. 

At every event I weigh is it even worth mentioning. 

She asks if my performance is a necessary attendance. 

I bite my tongue when I hear fathers talking about their daughters, love heavy in their voices. 

I try not to think too often about little me. 

The girl who would always beg to get on your motorcycle, I cherished the knee pads and bright pink helmet we bought together. I’ve thrown it away now. 

I would braid the hair of the dozens of American girl dolls I got every birthday, we’d watch Moana while you struggled with a needle to take out my braids. My heart twists every time a classmate speaks fondly of their you, I pray that their love won’t be tainted like yours. 

I love formulas, cause and effect relationships. I’ve found correlations between when you switched. I’ve wondered if it was my body betraying me that coaxed you to do the same. If it was me finally getting that dream, the 2 of you together, the 3 of us complete that was to perfect to last. 

It hurts even worse knowing that every time I look in the mirror I see you. My skin is rough like yours, my eyes scrunch when I smile , I remember when you used to give me those smiles too. Your eyes closed tight over whipped cream on our noses. I get angry like you do. 

It hurts knowing that when I was little, you PROMISED at my graduation you would finally get me my own bike, green with pink accents. We picked it out after my first day of middle school. 

I hate bikes now.