get better however

Noah, they/them

[noahwritespoems]

[noahwritespoems]

forget my heart, my head can’t take it

     I MISS YOU AND I MISS LOVING YOU AND I MISS WHEN YOU DESERVED IT

     I MISS YOU AND I MISS WANTING YOU WANTING TO BE AROUND YOU, NEAR YOU JUST FOR THE SAKE OF IT I MISS THE PRECIPICE OF FOREVER THAT WE LIVED ON IN THE ROOM WITH THE CLOSET IN THE CLOSET WITH YOU WITH YOU AND WITHOUT THE WORLD AND NOW WITH NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS

     I MISS YOU BUT I DON’T WANT TO ANYMORE I DON’T WANT TO WANT THIS HOPE THAT HASN’T DIED YET IN MY CHEST

BUT WHAT IF I LET GO OF YOU BEFORE YOU’VE LET GO OF ME YET

I DON’T WANT TO CARE      I MISS YOU BUT I DON’T WANT TO ANYMORE I DON’T WANT TO ANYMORE I DON’T

[noahwritespoems]

everyone’s mothers become: bad dreams, fearsome ghosts, corner-of-your-eye reflections, a mirage, dissipating a crude drawing a memory; one day you’ll look up at her and she won’t be able to touch you anymore. until then, remember: you’ve left her bruised, too.

mothers days

[noahwritespoems]

if you keep breaking my heart I will take it away there's no eating for free and I will make you pay I forget what it feels like when it doesn't rain but when you speak to me I feel the sun on my face those are few days this is not an ultimatum this is a test and I've know you too long - you are not trying your best this is pass or fail. get one right, guess on the rest I know I loved you most and you loved me less. I know I gave you a choice and you gave me a mess. I know I cannot stop howling to this moon in my chest and her unwelcome guest and I constantly hurt and I constantly cried the days I spoke truth to you, the days that I lied the day that I swallowed and digested my pride the same day I told you I was shining inside and you said "alright" so I keep looking for you and then looking away you are no longer a price I am willing to pay I will stand in the moonlight and suffer the rain daytime a memory, midnight to face and the sun, one day

[noahwritespoems]

I never write rhyming poetry so just let me post that one lmao

[noahwritespoems]

I am speaking, as I always am, of forgiveness. Of amendment. Of whispering your name and breaking the dam.

We are not going to be okay, or whole, but I think we’ll learn to navigate the brokenness, like we did once before, like we will probably have to keep doing. I will keep going. You will keep making promises. This is not coping, this is not reconciliation, this is not…us.

But it will have to be. I’m not letting you go anymore.

[noahwritespoems]

I am in love with impressions of you like your dusty fingerprints on my heart and my arms and your lips, your teeth biting in like I am something sweet; I love the parts of you which touched me once and never again. The parts that hurt the most. I guess what I am saying is I am in love with the bruises you gave me

[noahwritespoems]

I just want to say that this blog is basically...an archive. I usually don't post fresh poetry and I never post edited poetry. Everything I post is a rough draft. It's here so it has somewhere to be.

[noahwritespoems]

I have more love for you than I have anything else: bones in my body and thoughts in my head, and every single one of them for you, too all that I am is for you.

what it means to be yours

[noahwritespoems]

Whatever you want you will take and I will give. Whatever you take I will excuse and pretend is not lost. Whatever I lose will become, somehow, all I am and all I have left.

uneven distribution of power

[noahwritespoems]

anger can cleanse you be pure white hot fire/holy flame you, knees bent at the alter of an idea drinking the blood of ghosts

he can’t cure you he has never worked a miracle not in this lifetime, not in a thousand others

anger can be cleansing and pure or the grime under your fingernails, and never wash out

don’t blame dead things for your own mistakes and stop looking up the gates are closed the lights are off he is not home

[noahwritespoems]

i think im gonna go alllll the way back thru my archive and start re-writing old middle school poetry

[noahwritespoems]

it’s easier to hope you know than tell you all these lies. I hope my thoughts don’t wake you up; I hope you sleep at night. these words don’t equal bitterness, they equal being fine, but I don’t know if I can say this right. you gave me so much time. I kissed you more than once or twice and my heart beat so loud, so loud I thought that God would hear it, and I thought he might be proud. not once did my hands ever shake. not once did I back out. but my heart set to trembling and my breath wouldn’t come out. I swore I’d love you quieter but I swore it to myself. you should’ve heard me, should’ve seen me, I’ve never been that much a mess. maybe my chest won’t burst this time. maybe my heart swells slowly. it’s leading me some long lost place - i don’t know where it’s going. I might’ve thought it tens of times but I never really loved, and you might know what I say out loud but not what I’m thinking of. so tell me if it’s dead or gone, and I’ll take away this hope. tell me where I’m going, tell me wherever to go.

she is still breaking my heart

[noahwritespoems]

anger issues

all this coalesces inside of me, becomes human,

becomes living shit becomes baby girl daughter, all of this door slamming and teeth grinding and don't fucking look at me four years ago I wanted to yank your fucking teeth out

wanted to choke you for the transgression of fucking speaking to me,

I am human living shit and I have enveloped the fan

[writingsforwinter]

If I love you, is that a fact or a weapon?

Margaret Atwood  (via slyherin)

[wnq-writers]

Learn how to say “I love you,” without having to say the actual words. Because what’s the essence of saying such, if you fail to make someone feel it?

Shi Collantes (via wnq-writers)

[noahwritespoems]

my body is wasting away on not enough borrowed time, each day I grow weaker and my mother does too and I'm starting to think this trade isn't working very well at all i've become the stereotype of getting out & getting out & getting out & growing up but I've lost too much momentum I didn't own in the first place and I think that's the kind of thing death collects on there is too much tension in my shoulders so I roll them back and someone asks if I got taller, am I taller, am I growing up, do they even recognize me and I say no if this is my time and all I have left is a few inches to grow before taxes I'll take it that's not the kind of thing death will be picky about.

& taxes