Poet of Diana

less depressing poetry than usual friendship enthusiast

[poetofdiana]

Max

reading about love when you’re far away,

missing you my dear,

– how delightful

to let my skin be ripped

away with it. 

we are still small, still beautiful and breakable.

how precious to let the air cascade over my body, let you watch. 

to love what could break and to scream 

as loud as you can and to believe

I have everything

sometimes. how delicious 

to find your heart in my hands

for a moment,

letting the silence linger, 

letting your lips rise up my neck.

how lovely to watch you be.

August 4, 2025

[amalgamezz]

[read-write-thrive]

platonic and romantic are not some sort of binary that relationships have to be divided into. they’re not even two ends of a linear spectrum. they’re fully just abstract concepts made up of culturally-dependant social behaviour and expectations that are continually forced upon people to reinforce religious, legal, and broader societal/cultural norms, often and repeatedly to the detriment of non-normative groups including, but not limited to, the queer community. and I am sick and tired of those norms being replicated in fucking fandom discourse, of all places

[poetofdiana]

Romantic vs Platonic Love

What is the difference between 'romantic' love and 'platonic' love? I don't think there is any innate difference between these 'types' of love. Aromantic/asexual philosophies argue that the centrality of romantic relationships in society devalues friendships and defines them as less important than romantic relationships. Phrases like "we're just friends" and "friends with benefits" support this idea. What do relationships look like that don't center romance above friendship?

One of the big differences that people will argue exists between romantic and platonic love is the intensity of the connection. However, I'd like to assert that the cultural devaluation of friendship is what facilitates this belief rather than an actual difference in potential intensity. As someone who is currently and has in the past been involved in emotionally and physically intense friendships, I have first-hand experience with how intense these relationships can become. I have cuddled, slept overnight with, shared feelings that I've shared with no one else, discussed relationship boundaries, bickered, and much more with my friends. When society centers romantic relationships, we define friendship as any important connections that are 'less than' romance. This puts limitations on expressions of love between friends that have tangible consequences. When asked to define cheating, many people will name 'excessive' physical or emotional intimacy between friends as something that they are uncomfortable with their romantic partner engaging in. In the absence of these cultural limitations, friendships could be equally or even more intense than romantic relationships.

[ASIDE: This is also tied to the relatively new cultural idea (based in the development of the nuclear family) that a romantic partner should be the sole source of all emotional, physical, and mental comfort/support. This limits social networks and allows for the perpetuation of domestic violence by romantic partners. It is also simply a less sustainable relationship model than the diffusion of support/care needs into a robust social network.]

Once people begin to conceptualize romantic and platonic love as equally important (as is often the case in poly and aroace spaces), they sometimes argue that there is an innate ineffable difference between what romantic and platonic attraction feels like. I do not intend to argue against the idea that people feel different ways towards different people. Instead, I'd like to argue that the classification of these feelings into 'romantic' and 'platonic' is reductive and harmful in the pursuit of meaningful connections that don't fit neatly into the category of 'romance.' When attempting to make sense of our emotions, we strive to find patterns. Given the socially legible categories of 'romantic' and 'platonic' feelings, it makes sense for people to attempt to categorize each of their relationships into one of these boxes. However, this way of viewing the important relationships in our lives limits how we can experience them. 'Platonic' relationships are devalued and limited by romantic norms. Relationships that are not socially legible as either platonic or romantic are seen as weird and undesirable, encouraging limitations on these relationships in order to fit them into one of the categories. 'Romantic' relationships are grounded in a set of socially agreed upon norms that do not necessarily reflect the desires of the individuals in the relationship, but become expectations due to the categorization of the relationship as romantic.

So what do close relationships look like if 'romance' and 'friendship' are done away with entirely? Without a set of social norms governing each relationship, individuals must develop these norms within their relationships through communication, boundary-setting, and care. Different relationships will naturally have different value in an individual's life, but instead of conforming to the social expectations placed on each relationship because of its categorization (romantic vs platonic), that individual will be free to determine what the value of each relationship is for them.

In my pursuit of meaningful, healthy relationships, I have already begun this work of deconstructing relationship categories. Though it is hard work to set expectations for each individual relationship, it facilitates a much deeper emotional connection than simply allowing expectations to follow from a relationship label. I have been able to set boundaries in relationships that would violate traditional norms of romance or friendship (for example, I regularly cuddle and massage one of my partners, but we do not kiss). It is freeing to let go of social norms that pressure us to engage in specific behaviors or feel specific feelings about people simply because we have labeled them 'romantic' or 'platonic.' Though it is hard work, it has been incredibly beneficial to the quality of my relationships to deconstruct this norm.

[poetofdiana]

You told me your hair smelled like lavender

But I think it smells like sunlight

Like a picnic blanket over

Hot sand

With green water

An arms length away

Like a shopping spree

In the city

Coming out with

Arms full to the brim

Of things we don’t need

Like a corner cafe

In the winter

A poetry slam

Onstage

You grab my hand

And pull me up

We dance to the rhythm

Of a love poem

And I look into your eyes

And tell you you’re beautiful

Feb 17 2019

[poetofdiana]

Snow day

The red maple outside my window

Shed it’s vibrant leaves

And today covered itself

In snow

To hide it’s hollow insides

It made me think of you

Or rather, me

Me thinking of you

I curled up in a blanket

And hid behind my poems

They are a dam

To hold back my tears

When you walk by

With a necklace

I got you for Christmas

Do you remember?

If you did

Maybe you would turn

Smile at me

But you don’t

I want to put your hand

Against my heart

And show you what it feels like

To shatter into pieces.

March 4 2019

[poetofdiana]

4. Celeste

Is a name I never thought I’d kiss

A word frozen on the edge of my tongue

Like a shooting star

Given to a girl with eyes like galaxies

In a world that made her feel small.

April 4 2019

[poetofdiana]

19. The stars looked like chocolate chips

That night

The six of us

Lying on the grass

On our backs in a circle

Autumnal hair

And falling apples

You pointed to a shooting star

I wished the moment

Would stay forever

What did you wish for?

April 19 2019

@starlitpoems

[poetofdiana]

old partner in crime

I’m going to try

to fall in love with you

again.

- “Arms Unfolding”

dodie

[el3ctraaa]

Sitting down in one of those chairs that always creak I realize my tendency to look for the poetry in everything.

They're playing one of those state mandated videos, the ones that teach you the rule of the roads.

They lectured us prior to this on how this isn't the type of thing you can cram for.

As always I'm inclined to disagree,

that's the thing about life,

the thing that keeps me going I suppose,

that it's never too late.

So I sit there writing a new chapter for my summer project

I think I've always liked analysing my life a lot more than living it.

Thats why I write more poetry than notes these days.

Arent all poets cowards?

I let things happen to me so I can write about it,

I write about things instead of changing them.

I look for the poetry in everything,

even if the everything is unsavory.

I think in third person, but I write in first.

Are some just meant to be the scribe?

-"Summer Project" by M.S.

[poetofdiana]

Fungus

You hate mushrooms,

and I’ve never loved something so small,

but you hate mushrooms

and I hate you.

You hate mushrooms,

not the kind you eat,

but the creatures that claw from the ground

and bring life to something dead.

You say they’re ugly and small

and something to be squished,

crushed under a boot with only the thought

of fungus, of mold,

not good enough to stay standing.

You hate mushrooms,

and I used to laugh and tell you you were right—

lives aren’t worth living

if you can’t be something,

if you can’t build yourself up from nothing,

if you never become bigger than the world.

And I’ve never wanted to live alone,

only wanted to be something you could hold

and be proud of,

something you could love.

But you hate small things that live,

that love the world so it will love them back,

that only fight to stay alive, not to grow,

not to dominate.

And I love the world, whatever it will give me,

whatever I will become.

January 26, 2021

[eudaimanicdepressive]

It feels like all my friends are dead

Texts only go one way

My mother says it’s all in my head

I’m just having one of those days

But days turn to a week

The future’s mine but it’s bleak

It feels like I’m all alone

With my darling abyss

An empty glass of hope

A taste I think I miss

But missing things is part of it all

The rise is only the start of the fall

And those leaves may change

At home with me on the floor

Oh I feel deranged

Another knock on the door

No I don’t feel like going outside

No I don’t feel like being alive

It’s only a moment

It’s only a moment

It’s only a waste of time

[poetofdiana]

I wish I never learned you could get attention through complaints.

[poetofdiana]

Tonight, I think

I have lived long enough

to be angry.

To scream curses into my pillow

and beg the gods to bring her back

into my arms for just one night.

Tonight, I hope

she is just as lonely

and bitter and broken

and freezing with the heater

on full blast and slowly losing

each part of herself

as the second hand ticks towards morning

and desperate and burnt out as me.

Tomorrow, I will pray

that she wakes to the sunshine

and smiles at her life.

Tomorrow, I will pray

that she lives within arms

which hold her gently

and whisper their love with

smooth fingertips.

Tomorrow, I will pray

that she has forgotten my name,

but tonight, I hope she comes home.

December 12, 2021

[poetofdiana]

Water in the Light

We’re sitting among the tree branches,

watching the sky as if it cares

enough to crash down on us.

It’s open and blue,

the blue everyone just calls sky blue

because it’s so undiluted

you can only see freedom,

and the ground is dark but unimportant,

taunting but too far to hear.

You stand, steadying your arms

with the ancient life that lays

beneath you, and gather snowflakes

on your fingertips, condensing life

into little things, into sweet simplicities

like Christmas cookies and board games.

They melt into warmth without protest -

each small secret, each memory

into the heat of a calloused palm,

edges lost to something sustaining.

And then you’re sitting again,

hands cupped to your chest,

pouring soft smiles into the pieces

of the world that dared to find you,

and holding steadily

to the world you found yourself.

December 23 2021

[poetofdiana]

Codependent

Is dancing in shades of gray

at 3 AM to music in my mind

supposed to feel like you?

Or rivers and stranded boats

with just enough water to last

to shore.

My air is stolen, with fading

breaths pulling thoughts of you

as oxygen into my lungs.

I’ve been told it’s bad to need,

bad to depend on love

to loosen the grips

of hypothermia tightening

around my heart.

But you open your mouth —

and you are blood

and I am hospitalized.

and you are string

and I am awaiting a nest,

singing domestic lullabies

to children only in my mind,

watching them grow and live

and break and feel,

pouring blood into another’s heart

and desperately loving,

loving for warmth and blood

and just enough to survive.

July 16, 2021

[poetofdiana]

Pine Cone

It was brown and crumbling,

each spike caving under my soft touch.

Where the spikes emerged from the bottom,

they were clustered, dotted with white and green,

the tips of each one colored lighter than the base,

like middle school girls after a night alone

in the bathroom with bleach.

They got skinnier as my gaze approached the top,

forming a wobbly cone.

The air was cold, and snow dotted

the banks around the roads.

I was in a tree, my arms spread wide

against the branches to hold myself steady.

I still wobbled.

It sat there, similarly nestled

between ancient things much steadier than it,

and we watched each other,

me and that pine cone,

me and every other temporary thing in this world.

And we stared until I lost my balance -

or maybe jumped -

and trudged through the snow

and drove away

from our fate.

December 15, 2021