Shitty Tumblr Poetry Page

A blog run by a pair of possibly depressed,overly reflective teenagers. Use /sumbit to share your work. COPYRIGHT APPLIES TO ALL POSTS.

[indiebiitch-blog]

[books-and-margins]

Are you what becomes me,

My dear?

Are you the first breath of spring?

Or,

The first leaf of autumn?

See,

I used to be a believer before I met you.

I believed in everything,

And in nothing,

And I believed in you.

Perhaps,

I believed in too much.

Perhaps I was too naive.

I believed you even when,

All the warning signs

Begged me to go the other way.

Oh baby,

Days and weeks and months

have passed and I,

Am still singing that same song.

Still writing that same poem.

Verse after verse.

Now you finally want to listen.

And you swear to God,

all you ever had

were good intentions.

That the fire that burned me,

Was also the flame that saved me.

That the chaos you left,

Was meant for good,

But baby,

Even our good intentions,

Have collateral damage.

Now you come back,

And you want me to believe again,

Because you swear

My faith was never shaken,

Or else,

I wouldn’t still be here.

And maybe you’re right.

But,

I don’t have it in me to believe

In your empty miracles.

The prophet has run out of prayers,

And this time,

I have kneeled one too many times,

To know,

That our prayers will only be met

With emptiness.

Intentions // RKF

[books-and-margins]

He didn’t love me.

I tell myself

As I hide the tears

Staining the sleeves of my shirt

This is my own

Selfish vanity making me feel like this.

I know this.

Yet,

I still have to remind myself

He didn’t love me.

I want to believe he did.

I want to pretend I changed him.

That I was the one real thing,

He never had.

But the truth’s the truth’s the truth’s

the truth.

He didn’t love me.

And as  I write the last poem

I ever will about him.

As  I forget,

The color of his eyes

when the afternoon sun

caresses his face.

Or the way his hands felt,

grasping my waist

like a lifeline.

Or the way I could always tell

when he

was about to kiss me

I realize,

I didn’t love him.

Last Time // RKF

[books-and-margins]

So here we are.

You,

The man that will die for my sins,

And me,

The clumsy hands that burn

everything they touch.

We never learn, do we?

How many times

Must I stumble into your arms,

only to learn

That they were never meant

To catch me in the first place?

To understand,

That they were long reaching

For something else,

For someone else,

But instead,

They found me.

That we were purely coincidental.

The same boulevard,

The same night.

How long before I understand,

That no matter how many times

I fall into those arms,

They

Will never firmly grasp me

The way I wish they would.

So here,

Cleanse me of my sins,

Drown me in your Holy Water,

and for tonight,

Let’s pretend we were both

What we were looking for.

Sins // RKF

[books-and-margins]

Kiss me in the dark,

And then once again,

Before you leave at dawn.

I’m the match you lit,

And forgot to blow out.

I’m the morning coffee,

You forgot you brewed.

I’m the pieces of a puzzle,

You can’t figure out

And when you leave,

After the alcohol finally settles

In your veins,

I’ll be the wine stain

You’ll never be able to get rid of.

I’m sorry

These soft hands

Can never seem to master anything,

but self-destruction

And the closer you get,

The further they’ll push you.

But see,

The game is always the same.

I’m busy setting myself on fire,

And you’re busy ignoring the flames.

And when,

The smoke can’t let you breathe,

When it’s suffocating,

That is when,

I’ll be whole again.

At the border of collapse.

The more I piece myself together,

The more I fall apart.

This degree of insanity,

of inescapability and fatality

It will always follow us.

And God,

I wish I was drunk,

because,

I can’t breathe in this hazy state,

And sometimes the burning bitterness,

Will give me something,

Even if it’s only pain.

Cause babe,

I’m an accident waiting to happen,

I’m a night that’s too cold,

or a day that’s too hot.

I’m clumsy hands

That hold on too tightly,

And stuttered words,

Conjured up by Vodka.

And I never told you this,

But I almost wish you had kissed me tonight,

And every night since.

And maybe these are drunk thoughts,

From sober feelings,

or sober thoughts from drunk feelings

But either way,

What I’m trying to say is,

I wish I would’ve met you in another life.

Because in this transient one,

All I can offer,

The only love I can give you,

Will be gone by the daylight.

Just like you.

Kiss // RFM

[ratgoat]

[thelovejournals]

Love someone who is kinder to you than you are to yourself.

Nikita Gill, Things I Wish I Had Learned Sooner (via thelovejournals)

[leerings]

[books-and-margins]

Kiss me in the dark,

And then once again,

Before you leave at dawn.

I’m the match you lit,

And forgot to blow out.

I’m the morning coffee,

You forgot you brewed.

I’m the pieces of a puzzle,

You can’t figure out

And when you leave,

After the alcohol finally settles

In your veins,

I’ll be the wine stain

You’ll never be able to get rid of.

I’m sorry

These soft hands

Can never seem to master anything,

but self-destruction

And the closer you get,

The further they’ll push you.

But see,

The game is always the same.

I’m busy setting myself on fire,

And you’re busy ignoring the flames.

And when,

The smoke can’t let you breathe,

When it’s suffocating,

That is when,

I’ll be whole again.

At the border of collapse.

The more I piece myself together,

The more I fall apart.

This degree of insanity,

of inescapability and fatality

It will always follow us.

And God,

I wish I was drunk,

because,

I can’t breathe in this hazy state,

And sometimes the burning bitterness,

Will give me something,

Even if it’s only pain.

Cause babe,

I’m an accident waiting to happen,

I’m a night that’s too cold,

or a day that’s too hot.

I’m clumsy hands

That hold on too tightly,

And stuttered words,

Conjured up by Vodka.

And I never told you this,

But I almost wish you had kissed me tonight,

And every night since.

And maybe these are drunk thoughts,

From sober feelings,

or sober thoughts from drunk feelings

But either way,

What I’m trying to say is,

I wish I would’ve met you in another life.

Because in this transient one,

All I can offer,

The only love I can give you,

Will be gone by the daylight.

Just like you.

Kiss // RFM

[wnq-writers]

she couldn’t find heaven, so she gave them hell.

fire can be beautiful, e.l. (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

I trick myself into seeing goodness in people where it doesn’t really exist and the beauty in that is exactly that: nothing.

prettylittlesimplicities (via wnq-writers)

[wordsnquotes]

…Many things interested her, and nothing satisfied her entirely.

Ivan Turgenev, Fathers and Sons (via wordsnquotes)

[lusterlesspoetry]

Rima I (Translation)

Between the lost dialects, And the forgotten words; Between the sedating smoke, And the trembling scent  Of alcoholized blood. Everything ends up, Stamped in my memory, Like the seal on a letter, That was never sent. Exposed to the decline of time. In the end, Everything turns to fire, Everything turns to smoke

RIMA I//RKF

[lusterlesspoetry]

Rima I

Entre los dialectos perdidos y las palabras olvidadas, Entre el humo sedante y el estrumecedor aroma de sangre alcoholizada Todo termina estampado, en la memoria como un sello en una carta nunca enviada Expuesto al deterioro del tiempo En fin,  Todo se convierte en fuego, Todo se convierte en humo. RIMA I//RKF

[lusterlesspoetry]

Margins I

Albert Camus once said, Life is the sum of all your choices But perhaps, instead Life is the sum of all the things We dare not to chose, Like for example, I chose not to stay, The same way you, Chose not to love me

[angelicaaparisen-deactivated201]

Honestly, I have never felt this way about anyone or anything until I looked into your crisp blue eyes.

(via hiding-myself)

[lusterlesspoetry]

3:40 am

It's three forty am, And I'm looking at the sky Searching for life Or meaning, Or whatever other shitty metaphor These poems usually have And I think I've been Searching for a while, Sometimes it feels like days, Sometimes like hours, Sometimes it feels as if maybe, I've been searching my entire life Because my lungs are giving out And my feet stagger And I wonder if I'll ever find Whatever it is I'm looking for I wonder why it hides, So closely out of my reach Beyond my fingertips Visible but never tangible I wonder if I'll ever feel it in my arms Coiled in the nook of my neck Feel its beating heart Next to my own dead one I wonder if it'll give me life Or hope or a sense of worth Anything to stop me From looking up at the sky Searching for the invisible At three forty this night

3:40 am//RKF