recognizing the voiceless @recognizingthevoiceless - Tumblr Blog

sittinginstars

Lost Words

The words were in my head,

or at least an idea of them,

but I took too long

to write them down.

And so they left me,

floated away on the breeze

as I tossed and turned

longing for sleep.

They were the words

that would make everything

ok again

and bring you

back to me.

They come back now and again,

mostly as I’m circling sleep

and my mind is a sieve.

Each cycle they’re watered down

and diluted from that first time,

and pretty soon

they will lose all meaning.

I’ll watch them bleed away

until they’re nothing.

They might have been the words once.

But not anymore.

poeticbutterflies

my heart untied itself, and my soul turned weightless like a cloud dissolving into the sky. my thoughts were carried away. And somehow, I felt at home.

unexpressedthoughtsanddesires

My plea

Please— don’t close the door completely.

Leave it open an inch, a crack of light, enough for me to kneel beside it and still believe you might return.

I know what this is to you.

An arrangement. An hour. A body passing briefly through another body before night folds back over everything.

But to me— God—

to me it is survival.

Your visits are the only bright pins holding my life together.

An hour every few months— do you understand how little that is? How enormous?

I live off those hours like famine people live off crumbs.

The memory of your hand on my neck lasts longer than entire seasons.

So yes, I will take whatever you are willing to give.

The unfinished kisses. The distracted tenderness. The fragments.

I have trained my heart to survive on fractions of you.

And perhaps that is shameful.

Perhaps a person should have more dignity than this begging.

But loneliness is a strange country. It lowers the body to the ground. It teaches you to worship things that barely stay.

Please don’t leave entirely.

I am trying to ask gently, without frightening you with the full scale of my need.

Because I know you do not love me the way I love you. I know your freedom matters more to you than being held too tightly by someone aching.

Still—

if there is even a small room in your life where I may continue existing, quietly, carefully, without ruining everything—

let me stay there.

Even if I must stand at the edges of your attention like a man waiting outside a lit house in winter.

I can endure almost anything except the finality of losing you completely.

mleighsquickspot

Beauty's in the Eye 🌹

finelinesignattwo

hypercycle

spiral,

idol

sine cosine delimit mine

dead flesh flow from time to time

aye aye capn we be fine

bones to

shatter

redmantic

The longer it drags the more I cough

I stand in the pasture staring at nothing

And there is nothing to look for out here

As there is nothing looking for me

The pigeons are long gone

And I’m angry I didn’t eat them one by one,

Because on the other end they’re crushed by the foot of the bed.

Wasted life with only dried words spat,

At least grass stains are more visible under my nails.

But still I stand

As seagulls call out to one another

Trying to navigate home.

I stare up at holes in the sky

Just thinking.

couldntcarelessbear

~I lay, silent, entangled in the sound of your breath

I am still, I am frozen, I'm mimicking death

My fingers are feathers falling unto your chest

My heart has been pounding, yours sighs in deep rest

I try not to wake you, as if you could feel

The way I feel around you, seemingly unreal

Im transcending my body, my soul is so light

When im laying beside you the whole world is right

Your touch burns and it blisters right into my skin

My new scars will remember how you feel, again

J.H.S

bills-bible-basics

I AM SQUARE -- a poem and song by Bill Kochman

#Poetry #Poem I AM SQUARE by Bill Kochman 07-27-2014 I am square, and I don't care, If you think I'm out of date. I will give a nod, to my God, Because He controls my fate. Okay fine, here is my line, Your world's just second rate. If you laugh, and be so daft, You will cry outside the Gate. But you can win, just take Him, Reject that old Devil's bait, Accept God's love, from above, Farewell to the serpent's hate.

poetry-prose-and-a-tragic-end

It has been more than a brief moment since you’ve left / yet I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt / the way your words / still linger in the places where you had whispered them.

How unfair of you not to leave even after you left ? / To have let me pour your name in the cracks you had uncovered / and to have stayed cemented therein.

I may never be more than half of who I was after this / but I was never really whole / so how is it to have assembled me briefly / and to undo it all / amid the grief that is solely my burden to carry?

You did not flinch to burn the bridges, yet I’m here trying / with the awkwardness that comes with forgotten habits / struggling to see a world / without you smeared in every thought and intention / and disrupting all forms of cognition.

How unfair of you to have become more method than memory / curled up in the reflex of reaching for something I need /and making me choose yourself.

corneliadedona

Can I Get A Pass?

or a little mercy—

the kind that hushes even the shiver in the leaves.

I’ve been laboring since dawn—

the kind of labor counted in acorns, wind, and worry—

said the squirrel, still a quick brown spark in the branches,

flitting from limb to limb like a thought that would not settle,

and the forest answered him with laughter.

The birds, being birds, turned mockery into song—

a bright unruly weather of chirps and shining eyes,

as though all spring had been a rehearsal

for the sweet small privilege of teasing a squirrel.

Hershel sighed for a holiday.

Sally, meanwhile, wanted one as well—

preferably with cake and a patch of afternoon sun,

which seemed, for squirrel ambition, almost courtly.

You’re nuts,

said one voice, and not with kindness enough to make it praise.

Ask again in five minutes, when hunger comes back wearing its old crown.

We all have a stake in this—

if not in heart, then surely in bark and timber.

Then even the deer and mountain lions lost their solemn manners

and laughed as though some ancient burden had skipped them for a day,

and even the trees leaned softly into the joke,

bending in the breeze with that old wooden laughter

that begins in the leaves and ends in the smallest wheeze.

So there it was—

a brief and shining mercy, dressed up as a punchline.

shamanfox

Stop apologizing for the wild song

your soul was born to sing.

The rose did not ask permission

to open.

The moon never begged the sea

to love it back.

Beloved

God placed a strange and blazing thing inside you

and called it by your name.

Be that.

analysisuntilache

The cruel nature of a break up;

I didn’t leave the first time or the second,

not even the sixth when escape pressed in my mind.

I thought I was the problem,

my needs too heavy, my wanting too much

so I shrank.

A person already small folded herself smaller still.

Each time I pictured leaving I saw the beauty first: the way he loves me, the way I love him, the promise of two people asking each other to change into someone they are not.

Everyone praised him in the beginning,

his gifts, his tenderness, how good we looked together.

But they did not see the fights, the tears, the quiet ways we missed each other’s needs.

Leaving doesn’t feel like freedom but failure.

I stayed because walking away from love takes strength, and I don’t know if I have it.

Yet staying feels like slow self-erasure.

This is survival dressed as hope,

wanting to change what should not be changed.

I am grieving the person I wanted to be for him.

I am grieving the family I built and am losing.

I want not to feel this way.

I want to know how to stop.