gold on your fingertips,

fingertips against my cheek

[likeaahostage]

"GOLD LEAF ACROSS YOUR LIPS...”

✧ 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 ! ━━━ ⋆ hi angels, this is the poetry blog of @svnflowermoon ⋆ they/she ⋆ lesbian ⋆ enfp ⋆ eighteen ⋆ gemini ⋆ avid lover of platonic love ⋆ a pretty mes ⋆ bio, literature, and arts girl in a maths, physics, and chem world ⋆ i forget to post here but i always have poems being writen daily lmao ⋆ i post overdramatic poetry that always flops!! ⋆ free palestine!! ⋆

pinterest ⋆ spotify

"...KISS ME UNTIL I CAN'T SPEAK”

[likeaahostage]

you.

i would get on my knees

for simply an ounce of your attention.

and it's pathetic, i know.

you don't need to remind me.

but it's true.

i would do anything for a moment of eye contact,

for a smile directed at me,

to be the one to make you laugh.

oh god, your laugh.

i don't know what's wrong with me,

this level of desperation is surely not normal.

but i can't help it.

i need you.

i need you so carnally.

so carnally, that i would do anything.

i don't think i have any shame any more,

there's no space for that in my mind.

there's simply

you.

[likeaahostage]

mundane

i miss you,

i miss your laugh and your smile,

i miss baking with you and slepovers every weekend.

i miss waiting for buses in the rain with you,

and buying matching outfits.

okay, no.

maybe i don't miss you,

maybe i just miss the idea of you,

the idea of having a best friend.

but i'm getting there.

no, really, i am.

i'm getting to a point where i can love without thinking of you,

where i have connections deeper than we ever did.

i don't need you anymore,

i've moved on, to an extent.

my heart is somewhere else but my mind is still with you.

my heart is with her now.

her contagious laugh and her smile and her stupid words.

she makes me smile wider than you ever did.

i'm getting there,

really, i am.

but why is it that i can love deeply without thinking of you once,

but every time i do the dishes,

i remember doing them with you.

the mundane is killing me,

because the mundane was once ours.

the mundane is the one thing that no one's replaced you in.

so i think of you when doing the dishes,

and when cleaning my room,

and doing my math homework.

because you used to be there while i did them.

you never used to care how boring it was,

you were always by my side.

so why did you leave?

if i was someone who could make dishes fun,

why did you leave?

so my mind lingers,

it lingers on us.

it lingers on what we could have been,

but never what we really were.

i don't miss you,

i don't love you, not really.

you're merely an idea in my head,

a reminder of who i used to be.

and i used to cling to that idea, but not anymore.

now i have an idea of who i am.

i have people who remind me why i'm here,

who give me reasons to get up in the morning.

and i suppose that once upon a time,

you could do that too.

but now, i get on buses and hope i don't see you.

i check my phone and pray that you haven't texted.

i walk into a room, and you're the last person i'd think of looking for.

so no,

i guess i don't miss you.

why would i, after all?

because what is there to miss?

[likeaahostage]

afraid?

there's this girl at my school,

i want to be friends with her more than she will ever know.

its pathetic, really.

this feeling of want.

but she likes the same music as me—she even went to one of their concerts,

she loves travelling as much as i do,

she has a dog,

she's kind,

she's funny,

she's a good friend...

...and i've never even spoken to her.

our interactions are limited to a small smile sent back and forth.

she added me on snapchat,

i added her back and waited for her to text,

i'm still waiting, almost a month later.

i doubt she even knows who i am, really.

yet every day, i fight the urge to message her,

a quick "hey, i saw you went to that concert, how was it?"

or maybe "i saw your travel posts! what was your favourite place?"

i know enough about her to know she'd respond well,

but yet i still don't.

what am i so afraid of?

[likeaahostage]

every day,

i walk past the building i learnt to dance in,

and i think a little bit of my soul is trapped there.

especially today,

a cold june morning,

the fog hanging low over the trees,

seven year old me peering out of the small circle window.

its being renovated,

the paint stripped off the walls and the plants pulled out of the gardens,

no one dances in those halls any more.

its only me there now,

alone.

[likeaahostage]

i wrote so much poetry last night omg

[likeaahostage]

i just wrote the most depressing thing about turning 17 omg

[likeaahostage]

fabricated

i've listened to the same four playlists on repeat for the last three weeks,

and somehow each song leads back to you.

i mentioned it to my friend,

she went on and on about how cute it is.

i suppose it is cute, how i see pieces of you in everything,

but i don't think it is.

not really.

not when you don't even look at me.

i swear it's like i've made it all up in my head,

some intricately fabricated lie i'm labelling as love.

the worst part is, i think you know.

i think you can feel my eyes on you,

you can hear the hum of the lyrics through my headphones.

and we dance around it,

because just as you know how i want you,

i know how you don't.

[svnflowermoon]

lotssss of poetry coming i haven't posted any in ages so watch @lostmypagewhenyoukissedme for any new posts angels <333

[likeaahostage]

fabricated

i've listened to the same four playlists on repeat for the last three weeks,

and somehow each song leads back to you.

i mentioned it to my friend,

she went on and on about how cute it is.

i suppose it is cute, how i see pieces of you in everything,

but i don't think it is.

not really.

not when you don't even look at me.

i swear it's like i've made it all up in my head,

some intricately fabricated lie i'm labelling as love.

the worst part is, i think you know.

i think you can feel my eyes on you,

you can hear the hum of the lyrics through my headphones.

and we dance around it,

because just as you know how i want you,

i know how you don't.

[likeaahostage]

sometimes this life doesn't really feel real,

like everything i do is done for someone else.

school is for my parents,

so that they don't feel disappointed,

so that they have something to brag about,

because their hearts never really left high school.

they live vicariously through me,

as if there's no life after school.

and hey, i do my hobbies for them too.

i don't want them to worry,

they worry about me far too much,

and that's the last thing i want.

so i keep up the flute,

i kept up the dance for what,

five years?

was it seven?

i enjoyed it, i really did!

for maybe two of those seven years.

but then it became too routine,

and no one hates a routine life more than me.

how people survive doing the same thing each day,

i'll never understand

and then there's the sleepovers.

i enjoy them,

at least the idea of them.

but then the plan gets put into action and my insecurities come into play,

and there's nothing i want more

than to be in my own bed.

i keep them up,

obviously.

every few months someone mentions wanting one,

so i ignore the memories of the last one

and respond with "sounds great!! i'll be there,"

because this time it might be different.

but it never is, is it?

the routine never pays off.

it drags on,

and on,

and on,

until even the hobbies i chose for myself

lose the joy they had.

i don't even read anymore.

younger me would hate me for that.

[likeaahostage]

why, when people see women,

is it their clothes,

their body,

and their makeup.

why is it not their words,

their mind,

and their smiles?

why is it that we are seen for our looks,

rather than our creations,

our jobs,

and our actions?

we can only ever be overemotional,

our emotions can never be beautiful.

we can only ever be oversensitive,

never justified,

because who are we if we speak out?

and because we can't speak out,

we learn to cover up.

cover up our words with nice clothes and pretty eyeliner,

because who are we if not for our looks?

our style? our hair? our bodies?

always recognised for beauty,

never for our art.

[likeaahostage]

i wish you weren't so perfect,

but i fear that i only ever fall for those with good hearts and sweet words.

i almost wish i didn't,

because every single time,

they're too good for me,

so i leave before the inevitable happens.

because god forbid i ever show my insecurities,

even to those i hold closest in my heart.

[likeaahostage]

sitting at the bus stop

and i'm thinking of you

as always

–as if you were ever really mine

–as if any of it was real

–as if you think of me

but hey, maybe you do

i don't know, how could i?

i can't read your mind,

and you made that clear

on that cold october evening

you told me it was a date.

it wasn't.

it was a way of twisting the knife

oh, stop it.

don't try to lie.

we both know you stabbed me long ago

you pretended to cry

pretended that it affected you

pretended that you hadn't already moved on

i suppose i had my suspicions

but of course i brushed them under the rug,

i know now that i was naive

but i didn't want to be clingy,

you're allowed to have friends just like i am.

but were differeces between my friends and yours,

because yours weren't really friends,

were they?

just like i wasn't really the love of your life

and now i'm in the bus,

there's two old ladies holding hands and laughing about something no one else understands

and maybe,

if you had meant it,

that could've been us.

but I don't think i'll ever have that life

because i can't trust like i used to,

and who's fault is that?

i think we both know the answer

[likeaahostage]

i wish that i didn't feel so helpless without someone by my side,

i know it's in my head.

i know i'm not really a ship stranded in the middle of nowhere,

but it feels like it sometimes.

this level of codependency is tearing me apart,

but nothing i do seems to get me out of the cycle.

i know that if i want to travel,

and study away from my family,

and live outside of my hometown,

i have to learn to be better at being alone.

but i truly don't know how.

[svnflowermoon]

jealousy, jealousy

sometimes i wish i was them, the girls in my pinterest boards, the girls at my school on those road trips with friends, the girls with the love stories people like me write poems about. and more often than not, that wishing becomes jealousy. it sickens me, that i'm jealous of them. i have everything i could ever want, do i not? ...do i not?

i saw this girl from my school post on instagram last week, she'd just had her sixteenth birthday party. an aesthetic affair, the likes of which are scattered throughout my pinterest. they swam and danced in the rain, drinking apple juice from cocktail glasses. i wasn't invited—of course i wasn't, we're not friends. her friends' posts about it dragged out for days on end, and of course, so did my jealousy.

it's stupid, really. her win is not my loss, i know that more than anything. it is engraved into my brain so that each time i feel jealous of her, i feel guilty for bringing her into my own personal inadequacy. why do we look to others to reflect on our own lives?

and i know that i am that girl for some people at school, and that knowledge just makes me sad. because why are we never satisfied? why do we always want what we can't have?

the things we long for, they're the greatest things on earth, until we have them... and then we long for something else.

[svnflowermoon]

ok my once private poetry blog is now my public poetry blog!! @lostmypagewhenyoukissedme