I'm Sorry Every Poem Is About You.

I've been writing poetry for over a year now. I appreciate any feedback or comments.

[thelovejournals]

Love like mine can never be gotten over.

Edgar Allan Poe, “Letter to Maria Clemm,” August 29, 1835 (via thelovejournals)

[theliteraryjournals]

Strange energy was in his voice; strange fire in his look.

Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre (via theliteraryjournals)

[theliteraryjournals]

You are not your wounds.

Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre (via theliteraryjournals)

[thelovejournals]

The purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.

Kurt Vonnegut (via thelovejournals)

[whenpoetsbleed-deactivated20170]

These butterflies you planted in my belly are sickening. I wish you could just as easily rip them straight out of me.

-But you’ve dug yourself a home in my skin, and I wish the idea of you leaving didn’t sting so deeply (via whenpoetsbleed)

[wnq-writers]

You are poetry, you aren’t meant to be understood. You are supposed to touch hearts, shake souls and leave them in awe .

gypsy-nomadic-soul (via wnq-writers)

[premodifier-blog]

I ruined us before "us" was even a thing

I fuck things up and now I know why people don't love me // 16.4.16.

[premodifier-blog]

There's nothing poetic about the way you broke my heart. The shattering sounded like breaking glass and I thought how it was funny something so fragile could be so worthless.

You broke up with me on the 18/1/16.

[premodifier-blog]

Loving a sad girl is like loving a storm. Because you think you understand it but then one day you wake up and you’re surrounded by destruction. It’s like loving a ticking time-bomb. You never know when she’s gonna blow. It’s kissing the the inside of her wrists as she promises not to do it again but you know she will. It’s holding her hair back when she throws up. It’s cradling her broken body when she sobs. Loving a sad girl is living in a haunted house. There’s ghosts all about and at any minute there might be one more. It’s walking through the front door and praying you don’t see a note on the kitchen counter. It’s making plans for the future but not knowing if there will be one. It’s saying you’ll move outside the city to raise your kids. It’s pitying your unborn children for being raised in a house with such sadness. Loving a sad girl is watching her fall apart in front of you. It’s watching her collide into other people but collisions aren’t beautiful. It’s watching a fallen angel fall and fall and fall all over again. Loving a sad girl is like loving a ghost. It’s like loving someone who you know won’t be there forever. It’s holding her hand and thinking this might be your last time.The funeral was beautiful. And I cried.

(via premodifier)

[premodifier-blog]

"You gotta learn to love yourself because no one else fucking will"

-My Darling

[premodifier-blog]

If you put all my poems together, they tell a story that I don’t think I like.

5/11/15

[premodifier-blog]

Tell me it's okay To be this afraid when I Am not with you, love

A haiku about you

[premodifier-blog]

I will die each day Waiting for you to come home And you are worth it

A haiku about you

[premodifier-blog]

You made me stop planning my funeral and start planning my future with you.

1/11/15

[m-o-o-n-l-i-q-h-t-deactivated20]

Damaged people are dangerous. They know how to make hell feel like home.

(via m-o-o-n-l-i-q-h-t)

[premodifier-blog]

Sometimes sadness isn't crying for three days straight. Sometimes sadness isn't wondering what you did wrong and why it's all your fault. Sometimes sadness is stopping one glass before your liver shrivels up and dies. Sometimes sadness is remembering to look for oncoming cars before crossing the road. Sometimes sadness is telling yourself every day that the bridge will still be there tomorrow. You don't have to jump today. Sometimes sadness is trying to figure out how to take yourself off self destruct mode.

And sometimes that takes a long time.

[premodifier-blog]

You cannot bottle an ocean and sell it to a lover. You can only bottle a small part and call it the sea and sell it to someone with too much sand. You cannot tame a wild animal who knows the harshness of the woods, you can only offer it some warmth and wait for it to trust you. And then leave you. You cannot label him as just a man, as you would be labeling a lion a lamb. You cannot call him your own for he is no one’s. Not even his. He is raw and ungodly and lawless, and he is pure beyond belief. You cannot repair him for he is too broken to be healed, too lonely to be loved, too sad to be changed. He is not the forest fire, but the match that starts it all. He is not the calm before the storm. He is the storm.

(via premodifier)