[poetrybumblebee]

My name is George and this is a collection of some of my favourite poems and song lyrics.

[4am-reflections]

i look at you and see wedding bells and children’s names. i’m so fucking sorry i see a future in you and you can’t even see tomorrow in me.

4am

[poetrybumblebee]

OCD

[jayarrarr]

Bite Marks

This is not a poem about you.

If it were, it would start with the strength in your hands, how they feel around my throat. There would be a line or two about the depths of your eyes; the quiet, probing intensity bursting through (and that little spark you might not even know about––not to belabor the point).

It would go on to detail how empowered I feel despite surrendering control, complete and utter, to you. How you turn my body into a work of art. How you weave my moans and whimpers into poetry. How tall I am when I’m looking up at you.

But this is not a poem about you.

And because it isn’t, it won’t mention how much it means to me that you pay such close attention, that you treat everything as important if it concerns me. It won’t discuss the value of your openness, your encouragement, your serious answers to my silly questions.

It also won’t describe how safe I feel in your arms or how much I love your small gestures of taking charge, taking care. And it sure as hell won’t go into how amazing are the random things you like about me, such as my perpetually dirty feet.

Because this is not a poem about you.

And since it isn’t, I see no need to talk about how I want to share every little bit of every little bit with you, no matter how ridiculous or mundane. Like how I find I feel a little bit lost whenever you’re not around.

No, this is not a poem about you. If it were, it would be longer and lovelier than this.

© 2017 by Jennifer R.R. Mueller

[broken-and-recovering-deactivat]

[fromstarttome-deactivated201909]

Don't Tell Me You Know How I Feel

I wrote this poem in 2013 and I recently found it. So, here it is! 

Don’t tell me you know how I feel, or that you know how it is to be me because you have no fucking clue what it’s like. You don’t know what it’s like to stand in the mirror And see a man standing tall and strong in your reflection. Only to look down and see something so different. You see your weight, your “unappealing” face, your body and it’s natural scars given as a gift of beauty. Your everything. But what makes you so different from me, is that once you change your perception and your frame of mind, and finally see that you are beautiful. But to see myself the way I want to, I have to do much more. I have to see therapists, doctors, and clinics. I have to get a slip to allow myself to start ‘being a man’ I have to change my legal gender, my name and my appearance I have to get shots filled with male hormones, I have to get surgery and be scarred for life, I have to wear a piece of clothing that hides my chest, but also restricts my breathing. All this to be comfortable with who I truly am. I have to hear my family tell me that I’m a beautiful girl, when all I am is just a fucking guy. I have to hear people call me names, I have to deal with the harassment. All because I finally became ME. Even after I’m happy and 'beautiful’ in my own eyes. Even after I’m able to look in the mirror and finally say that I love myself. People will still tear me down because of who I am. People will threaten me because of who I am. People will hurt me because of who I am. People will kill me because of who I am. Don’t tell me you know what it’s like to be me. Don’t tell me you know how I feel.

[stargazerinmoksha]

hickies and late night conversations spare me the details i don’t need much just a little truth nothing too much bite down on the pillow we can call it love bite down on the lies we can misplace the trust

something, something you (via everylittlepieceofyou)

[stargazerinmoksha]

hickies and late night conversations spare me the details i don’t need much just a little truth nothing too much bite down on the pillow we can call it love bite down on the lies we can misplace the trust

something, something you (via poetryleftbyher)

[achingchest]

i want you to be afraid of losing me. i want the thought of losing me to be engraved in every decision you make. i want you to think: what if she doesn’t come back? what will i do then? maybe i shouldn’t make this decision that risks that. because i’m tired of being on the losing end of the bad decisions people make. i’m tired of being hurt, of my feelings not being put into consideration, of being someone who always comes back and loves through the wreckage. i refuse to come back anymore. i refuse to give out second chances, third chances, chances you never deserved in the first place. because if you make a decision that will destroy me, you are running the risk of losing me. and if you make it anyway, you don’t want me bad enough to keep me. and i’m done being the back-up character in your sad attempt of figuring out what you want. i want someone who knows they love me. i want someone who screams they love me. i want someone who would be devastated if i left. because i deserve that. i deserve someone who never puts our relationship at risk.

i want you to be afraid of losing me / @scarredconversations (via scarredconversations)

[holdmycoldhands-blog]

“sunday morning and I can’t sleep without you

I’m wiping white powder off of my nose from the night before

at 2pm I don’t remember falling asleep

or waking up 

or ever existing, really

I just have blood on my sheets from nose bleeds 

and so many beer cans I can barely see my floor

I can only see the space in my bed where you used to be

but you left too early. 

without a kiss on my forehead or a goodbye

I understand why 

but once things get less blurry will you come back?

I promise I’m not a fuck up I’m just fucked up all of the time

because my brain doesn’t know how to comprehend the fact that I’m alive

so it tries so hard not to be.

I hope you can see me behind the cigarette smoke 

I’m not hiding

I’m just hibernating 

from having such a cold heart

but I felt so warm beside you”

-Julie Shaw. Cold October

[dollpoetry]

Talking to you is  like swimming in a hot bathtub in the middle of  winter and the water never turns cold and you never get old. 

Let’s never stop talking. (via dollpoetry)

[achingchest]

i want you to be afraid of losing me. i want the thought of losing me to be engraved in every decision you make. i want you to think: what if she doesn’t come back? what will i do then? maybe i shouldn’t make this decision that risks that. because i’m tired of being on the losing end of the bad decisions people make. i’m tired of being hurt, of my feelings not being put into consideration, of being someone who always comes back and loves through the wreckage. i refuse to come back anymore. i refuse to give out second chances, third chances, chances you never deserved in the first place. because if you make a decision that will destroy me, you are running the risk of losing me. and if you make it anyway, you don’t want me bad enough to keep me. and i’m done being the back-up character in your sad attempt of figuring out what you want. i want someone who knows they love me. i want someone who screams they love me. i want someone who would be devastated if i left. because i deserve that. i deserve someone who never puts our relationship at risk.

i want you to be afraid of losing me / @scarredconversations (via scarredconversations)

[fluohrine]

sometimes it is better to leave things unsaid to never know why something ends or why it begins or why it has to be that way it is better not to know why goodbyes sometimes can be said without using words why hellos sometimes can be said with eyes it is better not to know sometimes why we do things why we leave why we choose to stay or why we love but deep down we know everything our hearts feel everything

k.m (via fluohrine)

[c0mprlse]

How to love someone with borderline personality disorder: When I tell you that I am happy today and nothing could tear me down, Tell me to go outside. Tell me to write. Tell me to take my medicine. I am sorry. When it is midnight and I am doing my best to convince you I am perfectly fine, do not believe me. I do not need you to keep asking. Just hold me. No words are needed. Just hold me. I am sorry. When I get frustrated because I am not better yet and I insist that drowning myself in alcohol and pills will help, please do not blame yourself. My mind moves far too fast for my body to keep up and sometimes the only way to stop myself from separating into a thousand pieces is to let me get out of my mind. I am sorry. When I stay in bed for a week and I do not talk and I do not eat and I do not move, put me in the bath. Help me wash the memories from my body because God knows I cannot do this alone. I am sorry. When I tell you I do not need my medicine anymore because I am better because I am sane because there are no more cuts bleeding black on my body, remind me that I am more than my disorder and sit with me until I find the strength to throw my head back and swallow myself. I am sorry. When the hallucinations start and I tell you someone is breathing onto my shoulders, it will be impossible to convince me otherwise. When I am in the corner and it is two am and I am shaking, pretend not to see me. Let me find myself. I am sorry. When you walk in and I have a razor blade in my hand; please keep your voice calm. I cannot take anymore rejection. I cannot take anymore blame. My body is heavy with hate and I feel like I do not have another choice but to bleed out my thick blood and breathe in stardust. Take the blade anyway. Hide it from me. I am sorry. I will have my good days. Good weeks. Good months. Sometimes, this disease will live under the stairs of my mind and pretend it does not exist and you will smile. But there is always a storm in me and I promise I am trying to build a safe haven. Please be patient. I am sorry. When I am sinking and my bones are snapping out of place, try to remember that I am the same person that told you I love you with every breath I take. I swear to the moon I am not this disorder. I am trying to be sober without a crutch. I am sorry.

I swear I’m trying not to be too much. (via c0mprlse)

[wnq-writers]

A shot of liquor, To warm the soul. You, my love Are the bottle I never want to finish.

heavenly–demon (via wnq-writers)

[spilledellipses-deactivated2017]

you’re still ignoring me I still feel like cutting because pain treats pain in a weird kind of way but the most pathetic part is I’m more mad at myself than I am at you for treating me this way because I wish I hadn’t done whatever I did to deserve this pain I wish I wasn’t me I wish I could just cease to be and finally leave you alone since that seems to be all you want from me

all I ever wanted was to love you (via spilledellipses)

[broken-bell-deactivated20170814]

I’m just playing with words and making scratch marks on the walls Locked in my room for days on end blasting Smiths and avoiding paying my rent What kind of life is this, I’m wondering as I’m trying not to sleep Goodnight songs and goodbye kisses make me sick so please turn that record off There is nothing here but tears and tears are flooding all the chambers of my heart Survival is a strong word, I’d prefer something else much less grandiose Something with a gentleness to it, maybe Something that can light another fire in my eyes Something that can make me feel alright about myself Something that requires thought and wind and breadth and wisdom I’ve been playing with words too much

(via broken-bell)

[brightlightsloudnoises]

36 hours

if I start to miss you after only 36 hrs, I don’t mean it

I mean, I mean it but I know the deal: you’re young, you like pot and shitty movies, and I shouldn’t expect anything more than a firecracker—

something that lights up the night briefly, breathtaking, and expertly

but dammit, there’s something else, there’s a steady fire in there,

small but earnest,

it escapes through your eyes and ignites my days