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[thoughtkick]

“You must allow yourself to outgrow and depart from certain eras of your life with a gentle sort of ruthlessness.”

— Katy Maxwell

[simena]

CRESSIDA CAMPBELL - BRONTE INTERIOR

[simena]

OLAF MARTINIUS BRAUNER - Sunset

[huariqueje]

Moonlight landscape  -  Oscar Sivertzen , 1909.

Norwegian,  1876-1940

Oil on canvas ,   45 x 47 cm.

[merither]

I adore your writing <3

🥹 Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that! Also I don’t know how Tumblr works so I’m not sure how I just posted this response on my page but oh well 🤷‍♀️

[merither]

Phoenix

Be gentle

To the ones around you

Maybe they feel what I feel right now

Like someone has died

Even though you and I are still living

Upon seeing you

I realised my version of you is dead

And I wish I was a Phoenix

So I could burn this skin

And rise from the ashes anew

To join you, to right the mistakes I’ve made

But there are no quick fixes

I made a decision eight months ago

And now I’m lying in the bed I made

So unfortunate it is a California King

(That was a bad Rihanna reference)

I feel like I’ve gained nothing

And lost so much

I lost an opportunity to live something important

I lost the connections I never made

I lost a version of myself that understands what matters

But most important of all, I lost you

And if I could somehow still make this work

All the mistakes would be worth it

We were never going to be unless I matured

But it’s the other way around

You’ve grown, and I have not

I had the opportunity but didn’t take it

I didn’t know what was good for me

I’m stuck in this awful dread

For once I wish I could stop feeling, like you do

How do you just shove your emotions aside?

Please teach me, switch places

You can watch the sun and I can work

Cup the ashes into the palms of my hands

Make something of myself

That I will not resent

[merither]

I am no poet, but when I hurt, I find outlet in tears and words. I was out of the former today. If you’re staying, please be prepared to embrace the bad poetry.

I’m tired of bathroom floors

I’m so tired of the bathroom floors

The bathroom stalls

The stickers on the doors

I’ve sat in front of them for so long,

I should remember what they said;

But I don’t know, they were all blurry and

I was too focused on counting my breaths,

Hold it down, behave,

and then a new wave

Rumbling

Six bathrooms. Take a deep breath for each one.

One - Why am I not good enough

Two - Why didn’t you at least smile

Three - Why does it hurt so much

Four - What do I want from you

Five - Why do I have to lose you over and over again

Six - Why have you abandoned me

(You’ve grown but I haven’t)

In the mirror recognising a version of myself,

deriving strange pleasure from observing my changed form,

Eyes squeezed tight,

skin bulging, peeled red grapes,

a grimace for a face,

In the moment I am the wave,

Flooding the bathroom floors

The stalls, drowning the stickers on the doors.

Why is there always a new way it can hurt?

A bad poem offers no relief,

no replacement.

But I tried.