In My Mind: Victoria Rose

[tkkatherineblog]

[looselipsnfingertips]

in ye good of days of ole

[looselipsnfingertips]

Tell him

I tried to let go He talks like I wanted more, he didn't know what I had in store. Maybe I kept it all inside, but I am not the one to hide. I just knew if it was fake, then it would be through. IN and OUT, no doubt. We can make it happen, without exception.

Am I wrong to want anything else?

[looselipsnfingertips]

Where do I begin?

Perhaps it was the beginning of the end.

Even when I knew the truth,

I would never tell anyone else.

For why would I? Who could? We love each other, as we should.

My love is here to stay, and yours never left. My love we made it thus far, what's the cleft? An unwritten sonnet, or a letter unwrett

Why do we have to go this far, to become who we are?

We are given two choices:

To believe in what we know, or to believe what we're told...

You let me know what you chose.

All I chose is: YOU.

[looselipsnfingertips]

To my mother,

I miss you. I miss when you still loved me unconditionally. The days go by and I wait for that feeling. The one where I knew you'd always be there. Unfortunately, I disappointed you too many times. I hope that I can prove you wrong.

I am not a piece of shit. I will not become my father. I have not lost my mind. I have always been here, waiting. For you to accept me. To treat me like I am your most precious gift.

I believe that a day will come when all we both want is a hug. To hold each other. You held me, or I like to believe you did. For I became a lover despite having a mother that did not want me. Who was haunted by me.

My life would make no sense without my daughter. I know my purpose. It is to be the best mother I can be. Please let me help you love me. Let me help you love yourself.

I have nothing else to say. I can no longer apologize for birthing an enigma. I can only burn as brightly as I was made to. I may blind the many, but you know I was meant to dazzle the few.

I love you Mammacita. Forever and always. Your incorrigible daughter.

[looselipsnfingertips]

Must I have a reason?

[metamorphesque]

i don't pay attention to the world ending. it has ended for me many times and began again in the morning.

― Nayyirah Waheed, Salt

[thoughtkick]

“I have lost and loved and won and cried myself to the person I am today.”

— Charlotte Eriksson, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles

[looselipsnfingertips]

Some days I feel like I will really lose it,

all. Myself. Identity. Grasp on reality. Job.

But I could never lose you. My beautiful girl.

You make my life worth living. I apologize for any day I have forgotten.

I may have forgotten how lucky I am, but never for how much I love you.

[takingstockofwhatmattersmost]

“Poetry…when a dream will not leave you, even though you know it should.”

— ~Kevin

[looselipsnfingertips]

Thoughtless

Back here, I've been here before. It's strangely familiar.

I am distracted. Unfocused. My brain is scattered, and I am unable to do the things I should. All I want to do is the thing I know I shouldn't.

There is always some kind of conundrum in my mind. Why can't it be simple? Am I addicted to the turmoil?

I have too much time to think. I want to be able to not have to think for a while. Maybe let someone else think for me.

I am tired of thinking about you.

[atticuspoetry]

Tweeted

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.” ― Ernest Hemingway

— ATTICUS (@atticuspoetry) May 29, 2022

[looselipsnfingertips]

May Day 2022

I’ve been on both sides of the fence,

Grass is grass. I prefer the longer variety.

Personally, I would rather water my own.

Or let the clouds do that.

Being in between mountains,

Dandelions everywhere.

The ache of my thoughts lingers,

I still chose to be happy.

I’m always stuck somewhere between,

Yet happiness needs rain too.

[nayyirahwaheed-deactivated20180]

[thecaftanclique]

Palazzo Biscari Rococo-style staircase

[fuckindiva]

Anne Sexton, Sweeney

[peteneems]

[89words]

“…Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried reposeful The single Rose…”

— T.S. Eliot, from The Complete Poems & Plays; “Ash-Wednesday,”