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[moonsunkissed]

personal blog ౨ৎ ♥︎ 16 y/o no name he/she

ᨳଓ not much to elaborate.. i write poetry. it's v personal. and if u dont understand i would love explaining each line... please ask in my mailbox with the poems title and your questions. thank you for visiting my blog ‪<3

[moonsunkissed]

lowkey i hate my fam rn they ass asl idek what to do w shi like this they pmo completely my dad acting like he do me a favour by teaching me like ok son 😭🙏 u ain't special he constantly worries and stressed me out and lowkey acts like oml why don't u wanna hang w me 🥺 awww look at me im 43teen like ok unc no one cares about your backwards views on the world no way in hell i used to love this guy 😭😭😭 like lwokey was a time i was tryna love my parents like holy hell my mom is fine to be around but even she don't understand and my brother's a lil kid i dont expect anything from mom or my brother tbh.. these people treat me like some fucking mother LMAO and then wonder why im stressed like ohhh u have all the pressure to be some prodigy for us in the future also can't sleep w/o u also u gotta do all the xtra chores also gotta babysit (us n other kids) do everything urself etcetcetc😊 no pressure tho we lowkey never pressure u what r u talking about... oh yeah and u gotta teach ur lil brother too and yeah study a billion hours a day but like dw u can get time for ur hobbies.. literally all u do is do nothing like LMAOOO OK SON SURE

[moonsunkissed]

It's funny, na? To grieve someone whom you see everyday. I often wonder, what is it that I miss? Is it their embrace, that was once full of warmth like a saddle of comfort, turned into just hands that pull and push? When you pull at my clothes and giggle, those jokes fall flat to me. I am constantly reminded of my growth—and your lack thereof. "It is just her," "She has grown cranky." "This is youth." ... You may name it however it makes you feel better. Stroke your own back. You shall feel better. After all, all you feel is mattersome. I know myself. I did not throw a toddler-like tantrum, when you did. I am baby ready, you could say. Thanks for the hands-on practice. Father, Mother, Parent... You are unfitting of every criteria. It feels as though I had to raise two children, which have now become three. If you ask whom, I will point—One. Two. Three. Can you see? Anyway, deny it all you want. I take no custody of your spillages. What were we?—On second thought, I would rather not wonder.

[moonsunkissed]

Sun

Look at her. She is the sun.

Only in frustration.

When basking warmth turns heated, an artificial shadow is stitched together. Blamation falls upon her light. Trembling pupils refuse the blaze that exists to keep warmth.

By dusk, she is seeping in my embrace. Water cools what daylight could not. A slow haemorrhage of gold bleeds into me, watercolor like sunset engulfing the sky.

Love arrives only at departure.

A camera clicks as the horizon closes, capturing her eluding.

I am the moon.

I have never mistaken burning for cruelty.

[moonsunkissed]

Swan Song

I have hoarded my love.

This song is my creation in history—its folktales written by my throat. 

Coming forth, my preserved voice awaits this funeral. My vow of silence, at last, undone. My soul spills into this dying melody; for the cold, deaf ears of a corpse.

The waves wash me thin. Translucent tears go unseen, invisible to those cloudy eyes.

And the shore is turning its back.

Worst of all,

you just watch me singk

[moonsunkissed]

7

Tomorrow is my lucky day.

I wonder why—why am I shifting, living so close to you—even if I cannot share our memories and pass on the past?

In 7 days, I won't talk to you again.

I am bound by promise. I figure you are my polar end—untrue to your word for applause.

Dancing and Kissing blinds you—whilst I beg the clock backwards, to no avail. Nothing will buy this back—not even what you chose over me.

30 days prior, I would've counted the distance between our homes.

Now I will count the distance between who you were, and whom you've become.

Tomorrow is my lucky day.

I won't share it with you.

[moonsunkissed]

Untitled

I have cut my hair with the same sharp that had almost taken my life. I have shaved that layer—crying to my sheet of tarp—throwing my dearest knife.

I have cut my hair with the same sharp that had almost taken my life. I sit on the salon chair—carrying my ridiculous harp—for my future wife.

I will cut my hair.

And roll my sleeves

upwards,

[moonsunkissed]

Cinderella with an F

Somewhere between you and me, I put myself in your shoes—squeezing my feet to fit until blood trickles down; just to feel how your glass cuts.

Walking must burn; despite this, you remain upright. I wonder how such violence can shape such a kind heart. Selfishly, I pray you live longer than you ought to. I have already prepared purple flowers for your special day—my star shone brightest, and thpen it faded.

Somewhere between you and me, I put myself in your shoes—and worry you end up as I did. You may scream and thrash, and hurl your pain upon me; feeling forever grateful, my heart soars. For I am certain loneliness is what wore me away.

Must you forgive me? I beg to God someday you will find such peace, such love, that you will choose to live again.

If you do not, I am still waiting here, my sweet. If your soles ache, I will wear your shoes occasionally. Lean on me; I am bound by promise to be your pillar. And should you ever leave, purple flowers will decorate your rest, blossoming their brightest, knowing they have been waiting for someone just as you.

Somewhere between you and me, I put myself in your shoes—did I mention? I love you too.

[moonsunkissed]

Father,

They say comparison is the thief of joy; I deem it contradictory.

Upon the sight of him, set beside the man who raised him; I sigh with relief. Blossomed gentler than his bloodline taught him to be. For that alone, I love him in a way that feels like kneeling before a merciful debtor.

I am my father's mirror— the lopsided smile; the cruel instinct for ruin. The same hands that break; the same feet that run from its root. My every cell reeks of that past; he lives within.

And so I pray: God, let me be different. That which passed through my river of blood, and called itself love; may no child inherit my curse.

My dying wish is to prove, we are not only made of inheritance; that I am nothing like you.

[moonsunkissed]

My child

I will find you on a sunny day. The grainy sand slips through your fingers; you pick at it, knowingly. Although you swing higher than the others, the sandbox is not in your league. A soft shade of an umbrella will fall over you, and your smile will brighten my day.

I will find you in the monsoon. You splash in acid rain against your parents' wishes, oblivious to the consequences. Foolishly, I will join you. Nature will make room for us, and your giggles will fill my ears.

I will find you on winter nights. Another stolen chance. Must you forgive me? No snow angel could bring me peace; only feeling your heartbeat will complete me.