Welcome to my gallery displaying my mind's pandemonium. Here you will find poetry written by me.
My name— Violet
She/her
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@poeticaphorisms
Welcome to my gallery displaying my mind's pandemonium. Here you will find poetry written by me.
My name— Violet
She/her
A face in the clouds
In the clouds high up
I saw a face,
A face so far
And yet one I could touch.
A smile I shared
But not the innocent twinkle in the eye.
So distant and so close
I could find it in a mirror
But its never the same—
Too old
Too regretful
Too pained
Its never enough
No matter how hard I try
The face belongs to someone else
On the outside—
Trying and failing.
Atleast thats something it shares
With the face in the clouds.
This January...
This January I'm no longer someone you know
But last January I remember how you thought the flowers bloomed because of me
I remember the "I love you" and "I'm sorry",
A billion, but I still do
Like how I still remember your coffee order
Too much coffee
I told you
But you wouldn't listen
After all this January I'm no longer someone to you.
I wrote about our future together in my letter.
—I found it in our time capsule,
You probably forgot about it.
I didn't,
Marked the date.
Waited around the year.
Now the day came,
And so I lunged for my past hopes—
Like fireflies put in water,
They were pretty but never possible.
Writing that letter,
It was like seeing a star knowing I was too late;
Seeing the light of a now dead star's past.
It hurt to see a ray of sunshine in that dark ink—
I knew it wouldn't last but delusion gripped me,
Held my hand through it all.
(Image taken from pinterest)
A moth once warned me of the dangers of an open flame,
It told me this story—
"I was in the park,
Flying towards some light,
When i noticed
Light emanating from a distance.
I went towards it
Found a light so bright it made my little heart leap
I flew closer and closer to it
It was warm
But once I was close it scorched me,
Now I'm all burnt.
All I wanted was warmth and light
But instead I received fire and a light so bright it made my head dizzy."
And so I continued my walk home,
Pondering upon it,
And told everyone
"The warmth that you so longed would wrap around you,
The same light you wished would guide you,
Lit your path,
Beware, for it may just be the cause of your burning and blinding."
Where does it hurt?
Where does it hurt?
In my heart which beats and pumps anxiety
Or my lungs collapsing with fear?
Where does it hurt?
In my knees
Weak from running away;
The demons still chasing me
Or in my shoulders hurting from the wax wings I bore?
Where's the hurt?
In my mind when the expectations shattered inside
Or in my eyes when I saw the ocean below as my death, not mirror?
Favourite Diary
I'm everyone's favourite diary to write in.
Every new white page smooth and ready to be written on.
The last one with impressions of heavy hearts.
I only wake to be written in
Sleep to have enough of me
To be given away.
Tell me I'm the only one they're telling this to
I listen all day long
For years and years on.
Do they remember I can hear it all?
Why is it that I only find time
To listen to this clockwork heart of mine
In the hours shaded from daily life?
The ticking of my heart continues
Keeps me up and I won't complain
For in the singing of early birds
All's a miss for the favourite diary.
I exist but in writing of others.
Shredded paper in the trash bin
No one knows what is written.
Why I fell in love with myself
I fell in love with myself when I was five,
—Frolicking around with no worries in my favourite dress.
I fell in love with myself when I tried to tell a story and found joy and comfort.
I fell in love with myself when I was eight,
Completing all my school work neatly
A star I proudly had on my hand.
I fell in love with myself when I was ten,
Always finding the good in everything.
I stayed in love with myself when the thunderstorm struck me down to a new sapling again.
I stayed in love with myself when I let the fire within me explode.
I fell in love with myself again when I made my friends laugh yesterday.
In the corner of the room
That thing I refuse to acknowledge,
Stands and stares at me.
That cracked conscience
I refuse to even glance at for a second.
—Its hands are bleeding,
Eyes with tears slipping down to the lifeless cheeks,
Its body clearly malnourished
—A thin frame barely there.
You'd think it'd be easy to miss
But its ghastly appearance forces my eyes to it
But I resist
I force my eyes away
Not focusing on it for even a millisecond.
My eyes, like a butterfly,
Never settling on a thing for more than a second
The conscience, like the hands of a child,
Struggling to grab me.
I cripple at the mere sense of it being anywhere near me.
I dispose the memory of its existence
Every day
Throw myself at things
But the thing never leaves.
So I named it
Instead of wishing for it to disappear
I cling to it like it did to me even before
hope not even death separates us
As I've now felt abandonment myself.
And so I caress the thin, pale cheeks of the power-hungry monster I always saw in the mirror
Will I ever be freed?
Do I have it in me to free myself from this horrid place or
Of the fear of how life is when you're not held back by past memories?
What do you do when the fear
of freedom itself baffles you
to the point that you refuse to take it?
In another life I would take your birthday,
Have the same features as you.
Like your eyes ocean-honey,
Your innocent smile.
Your outspoken-ness.
I would take form of you.
In another life,
Beyond your grave—
The matter and energy
That once made you
Would wander
And find my mind,
Its thoughts and rudimentary rhythms
And adopt both into a single sentient being.
From the womb to the grave,
To the stars,
And back to beating blood.
I carry my grief
For memories with people that never were mine.
—A mother mourning her child,
Gone too soon.
Their faces
Always blocked by a box
A box tying my eyes to itself.
The box—
Every carving on it begging for attention
Gilded but with seven monsters in it.
I'm no Pandora,
—One who must open the box
Shielded by oblivious state of a mind
With nothing but a burning desire
For anything it wishes for
But I'm not one to never open the box either
A dreamer—
How would I resist all the charms of that petty box?
I'm no great saint
I never resist
No control
I weep endlessly
Like a widow.
This pretty box,
Gilded and carved.
Their features were the same.
Eyes that shone under the sun—
Golden.
Those fingers that warped around my throat.
Air depleting from my lungs.
I know what I did—
I did my best.
But the glass shards scraped my skin
Dawn and dusk
The clocks hovering over yesterday's numbers
I waxed and waned with the moon
Everything came back
But not my everything.
So tell me dear,
Did the alignment of the stars
Burn bright enough to light you up again
Or did they scathe you like me?
I'll take another one
To collect and store in my wooden heart.
I am but a human.
My emotions like acid
Scalding me.
Screeching in my head
Gently kept in,
I cradle them like a child,
Born but never alive.
I grieve solemnly,
Collecting more and more,
Till my breath strikes midnight—
Nothing left in my lungs aside from grief
All visible around turns to an illusion in my mind
The light oozing out of the cracks of the floorboards
The cracks where you hid your love for me
Hits my face differently than all the other rays I've ever felt
Below the floorboards that were shut forcefully
Memories held by the ground
Fallen as far low as they could
Not deep enough
I still recall it all in the silence between my fast heart beats
I reach deep down for everything
Even your low self esteem
Bringing our love from the skies
Blue ribbons
Down to the ground
In mud
Buried forever
Atleast forever
If not us
Then atleast the death of us.
Pic from @rinvzha on pinterest
I let the lamp burn too long,
Waiting, hoping,
Somewhere in me I thought was a shard of knowing that you'd come back
But you never did
The lamp started a fire throughout
Scathing all that I had and knew,
I was forced to retreat into my sights
With no one left to believe them I turned them into folklore
Waiting ardently for you
Thinking that one day,
Maybe you'd return
You'd have remembered and grab my hand
Pledge that you always had and will love me
And that the storm that brisked you away was brief and short-lived
I kept waiting
Reciting my folklore repeatedly
I thought I would recite to you my life
You'd tilt your head and laugh
Misunderstand my aphorisms
But you never did any of it.
Never came back.
The doorsteps keep squealing about you,
Your name echoing through the burnt house,
But you never came home.
Sailor lost at sea you were,
And I was the lighthouse keeper
On the desolute tower.
Your eyes were blue as the oceans,
Treacherous, ever-changing.
Mine were the woods,
—calm and serene.
A love born because of the waves
Had to die when they passed away.
I showed you the light but you were enchanted,
Lost to the sea,
I could never hamper you back to the shore.