Gladly Beyond @jnaomis - Tumblr Blog

11/4/2025 Full Moon Drowning

I never thought much about life on land

As it pertains to drowning

I would insist I go another way

Ive burned through my options with you

Felt your heat, gave accommodation

(theres no better use of my skin

than as your canvas)

Ive let loose a tornado- my emotions, every inhibition that I could safely unclench

My sweat is to desire, my breath is to yearn

And as it pertains to fire or air, I insist

Ill go another way

Smothering was never an option

Id tighten the grip around my own neck

Take a mouth full of spit

Before Id allow myself spread thin and clinging over you...

And so as it pertains to suffocation

I beg, I'll go another way

Ive learned how to hide the soak

How to put a pin in the urgency of my own storm til I get home. Though

Ill admit, at times I did fail. Showered sheets, the back seat, unknowing shoulders with

the preconceived mourning of you

They didnt ask, they didnt mind

Any natural disaster is too forgiving

I must go another way

I have given thought to ships passing in the night

What lives exist on deck, off shore, around us

Waiting throughout a floating dormitory

Miss eachother. Ive never minded.

And though I miss you now I could never allow that

I missed you in a night. I couldn't bare it.

Rather

If youd passed me by

I would have burned through the cabin, set the sails, or jumped ship.

Scattering myself along the water. Unafraid of my "muchness", of overwhelming the surface, in plight to reach you

And maybe the unforgiving depth of sea

The elusive grasp of you

Your sail boat sputtering miles and miles fast and far from me

all could let me drown

And I would

I'd insist, if there's no other way

- Jillian Naomi

Jns.doc

#poetry #poem #writing #creative writing #personal

.

When you're alone, loss is lonelier.

I want to be saved

But all the open arms are rotting in the ground

I want to come home

All the memories are sleeping

I want to be held

But can't breathe in soil

- jns

7.15.2024

#personal #poetry #writing

This may have been a mistake

I don't think we stuck to the plan and I

don't think you were meant to know

I think you heard my voice crack saw a flick of light

something brighter than I could ever reflect

You wanted me

This may have been an accident

I forgot to check my lists and then

not according to plan I cracked soil

I planted my feet in shade

I took cover and sought to rest my eyes

but you were brighter through the split branches than the light was

on its own. I shriveled up. You watered me.

I couldn't give you what I used to be

and while I turned dry you soaked me through

I melt into dirt, crack when probed, flake when lifted

I think this was an error on my part

I wasn't who I meant to be, not yet dead, not yet spread, not planted, not alive

I asked to rest for just a while

I asked you not to look

I did it wrong, I said yes to you

You've come to realize I'm not who I meant to be

I'm not yet dead or planted or alive I am

Soaked now, messy now.

6/5/2023

#personal #poetry

callmeyellow

Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women, kitchen of love, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes, the men, they come with keys, and sometimes the men, they come with hammers.

- Warsan Shire.

dismalgurl

jnaomis

“A few months ago, I was lying in bed with a male Columbia student who decided that post-sex was an appropriate time to talk to me about the other girls he was dating. I wasn’t planning on being offended by what he was going to say. The two of us were “just casual,” after all. But he decided to talk about these girls in ways that made me incredibly upset. One girl, who, he told me, was “the kind of girl I want to marry,” had long, straight hair, was very pretty, and hadn’t had sex with him yet. I couldn’t help but wonder: Why wasn’t I the marrying type? Was it because I wasn’t pretty or because my hair would never be long or straight or because I’d put out too early? All of the sadness associated with being called ugly in the sixth grade flooded back. I was angry, not just at the man I was lying in bed with but at this young woman I had never met. No wonder women feel the need to compete with one another since we—not just men, not just women, but society as a whole—divide women into categories: pretty and ugly, sluts and “the marrying type.” I had been categorized and, rather than questioning the nature of this categorization, I channeled my anger into hatred of other women.”

— A superficial fixation

1000drawings

by sweatysal

I disregard my feelings and think that I'm wrong for being hurt. I feel like me being hurt is causing turbulence and drama. I feel guilty and I am dismissing/ gaslighting myself. I feel like my feelings have spoiled the relationship. My therapist says that its important to have these talks and that it may be an ongoing conversation. He says it's okay for him not to be perfect but that he should be willing to talk about it. I feel like every time we have talked about it, it has chased him further away. It has spoiled our relationship a little bit more each time. It never gets fixed. I have ruined this. He has ruined this. My wound is bigger than before. I feel immensely insecure and remorseful. I miss the small moments where I felt like he truly loved only me. The small moments when he reassured me that I was the special one. I think of the time he was so drunk and we were walking home and he told me "I really think you could be the one". I watch a version of my possible future disintegrate into nothingness. Into another body I have to let go of. Another person that was not home. Of every home that wasn't mine, he was my favorite. I wish so badly that I fit.

9.2.2020

6:00pm

#personal