The Feeling of Being Rained Upon @rottensilence - Tumblr Blog

you're not the person I met four months ago

on one of the most empty nights in a room full of people

you're not him

the one I somehow grew to love

that is not this person that now pulls their hand from mine

happiness is a state of mind, I tell you

you will not listen

too many toxins are pushing against your brain waves

I hate to see you killing yourself

but I have to run away before it kills me too

I've never been in love

but I imagine it might resemble something like this

this feeling(s)

I'm falling

I don't want anyone to catch me

Only you

But let me keep falling

I want to make it last

To feel my heart stop momentarily in my chest every time

Every time I hear your name

See your face

Hear your own voice close to my ear

Feel your lips pressed against my own

I could have been with others in the past month, but all that interest has been entirely lost

Do you know how out of character that is for me

just rambling thoughts tonight while I procrastinate study xoxoxo

A Woman on Paper

Sometimes I like my words on paper

better than that which escape my lips

The silent threats work wonders from the blank, white parchment

From my lips they are feebly dismissed

by society and by man

On paper my words are created by my mind and build by my hand

The pencil bends to my every command

I am a woman on paper and I am powerful

My only regret

I think I know what it might be

One day

One day and I will look back

I will look back and hate myself

Hate my past self for not letting seventeen year old me love you

Like I should have

Disclaimer

Some pieces are fictitious, and most are from my real life experiences and feelings

Some I thought of all on my own, and others the ideas came from prompts I've had for writing classes in the past

I will update weekly as best as I can

5:00 PM

You looked at me as if my eyes were the stairway to heaven

You traced my hands as if they were the map to your greatest treasure

You grazed my leg as if it were the world's most finest silk

You bit my lip

Don't let go

There's a breath

And we meet again

I saw you across the rom

Your eyes stuck to my blue

The end of your lips curled into a smirk

That laugh of yours

Engraved into my memory

Creeps up behind my eyelids

when I get a little down

I wrote this in a bunch of different tenses so here are three of them

I hear the voices

Hers linked to yours

The pity cast upon my shadow

Don't you dare do this to me

Don't you go following them

The path they took me down

Was but pain and led us to a dead end

That turned into a cliff in that dream like state

You did not know, how could any of you?

You gave me a playful shove

I did not stop my fall

I could have stopped my fall.

She hears the voices

Hers linked to yours

The pity cast upon her shadow

Don't you dare do this to her

Don't you go following them

The path they took her down

Was but pain and led her to a dead end

That turned into a cliff in that dream like state

You did not know, how could any of you?

You gave her a playful shove

I did not stop my fall

I could have stopped my fall.

You told me to kiss you and I told you I could not, but tonight I dreamt of your lips

she wishes she were me

He bit my lip

Gently enough

As though he wanted enough of me

All of me

but did not want to startle me

He woke that feeling inside

The feeling that is right

That right feeling that you get

When you gaze up at the starry night sky

and you still feel his gaze on you despite the beauty surrounding you

it's sad, really

Shes wishes she were me

I looked towards the stars

I felt your gaze on me

How sad it is, a million buildings

Blocking the beauty

Shielding us, protecting us

Overprotective at best

You kissed me

You kissed me like you wanted to stay

You hesitated

Just a moment

A moment I noticed

And then I kissed you

because I can and because it was right

because we were right tonight

The scars on my knees

Shaped like a teardrop

Cascading down my kneecap

Empty now

the gravel was scraped out

the infection was burned away

hydrogen peroxide does wonders

"You'll never be able to model now, sweetheart"

Said my grandmother

Eyes pinched shut, fingernails gripping into my mother's palms

I only wished to be able to shout back,

No, but Grandmother, Grandmother I will have a story to tell when my dresses are above the knee and the boy adjacent to me asks what happened.

I will have a lesson to teach my children, something to laugh about in the years to come

This scar will not let me walk down the runway

But then again, would I be able to anyway?

I am a mere five feet above the ground, this scar is not what is holding me back

The morals and vain expectations of society are what hold me back

I do not wish to be a model

Grandmother your comment is irrelevant

But if I were hovering above the earth at six feet tall with my ribs fighting for warmth underneath a thin layer of skin

Would the scars on my knees hold me back?

What my mother taught me

My mother taught me the basic things

How to brush my teeth, and floss when I almost had a dentist appointment

How to feed myself, how to run the tap water

How to share, when to say sorry

To pick out my clothes the night before

How to sharpen my pencil

To count to 10 and sing the alphabet

My mother taught me how to become a young woman

How to deal with a monthly visit

How to make new friends, when to let go of the old

To treat people with kindness

How to do what I believe in

To learn to support myself first

Without realizing it my mother taught me how to be myself

How to know when to shut my mouth

To laugh at myself

How to care for others and their needs, when enough is enough

To give and not always expect to receive something in return

How to smile and love and laugh through the pain

To learn through every minute of every day and let that mold me into the person I am going to be

My mother taught me most everything I will someday need to know

I wrote it there

There on my index finger

Every day for a month

A shouting, sometimes whispering reminder

Of the future

Of the place

Where everything would settle as it should

Sometimes the six letters

Written this time in all capital letters

Shouting the words into my eyeline each day

When I went to pick up a pencil

Or as I brushed a stray strand of hair back behind my hair

My eyes lock onto the word

Transporting myself there, allowing myself a guilty daydream

Sometimes the six letters

Written in lowercase formatting

At least for today

Would whisper into my ear

And tickle my soul with my own hopes

My own dreams

The six letter word

there on my index finger

A subtle, screaming reminder

of the expectations I set for myself

The pressure to be brilliant

Dust Bunnies

Sadness

When I want nothing more than to speak to you

To hear your voice and watch your eyes light up as you smile

Heartbreak

Because I could not tell you whom I am writing about

Because I do not even know

We sat

There in your car

Hidden in the darkness

Every seven minutes our faces were lit by the flashing lights above our heads

We talked

Laughing and sitting in silence

Growing comfortable with the other

I wanted nothing more than to kiss those perfect lips of yours

Why I could not do it

I did not have the courage

And he was there

Sitting in the back of my mind

Chuckling at my insecurities

I let him become a mound of dust

Nothing more

I need to get out of this

This loop

This infinite loop

Ignorance

I have been blinded by my own ignorance

I could not see it

the Deja Vu

Like a broken record

Your favorite song on repeat

When you click rewind over the same clip over and over again

That. All of that.

That has become my life

A constant flow of sadness

Stress, sympathy, sarcasm

Pouring into my bloodstream

Appearing on my surface every few months

Whenever it pleases, really

After all, Do I deserve the Control?

Not in the slightest. No.

The Boogie Monster

There

Under there

Where?

Right there

A tap on the chest

A heartbeat

bum

ba dum

I can see it

It?

It

It is there

Waiting

Wait

Now running

Run

Where?

Towards me

Grasping you

Nothing

I feel none of It

You wouldn't

It is subtle

It waits

For the weak minute

You let your guard down

The monster

It?

It.

It creeps in

Crawling to the spot

Inside your ribcage

It is home

Boogie Monster?

Making 'Innocence' into a prose poem

Some things will always have a steadfast grasp on their innocence

others will not

People for instance

they lose their innocence

somewhere along the road

Now this ‘innocence’

will be described in various ways

by various types people

Some will agree

some disagree

some agree to disagree

But for the most part

I can almost promise to you

that if/maybe there is a study to support this theory

that innocence is lost

It is not something that can be preserved

Perhaps

you may catch glimpses of this innocence over time

when you smell your mom’s old perfume

your past lover’s shampoo

A trigger

bringing it all back to you

an abrupt slap to the face to remind you

of what you once had

You might feel it back there

settling into your soul again

paying a short visit

And then,

just like that,

it is gone.

Innocence is not something that can be held onto.

Not for long.

Sooner or later

the world tears you from this innocence

and the world does not play fair,

the world plays finders keepers, losers weepers.

And so we weep.

What we weep over differs,

but we all weep together.

Every day as we walk this bitter earth

and tear it to shreds,

we tear our own world of it’s own innocence

for we are not the only victims.

Why do we weep, you might ask?

We weep for the lying boy who took it

who wouldn’t give it back even if he could

we weep for the parents who are growing older far quicker than we are

we weep then for the childhood slipping through our fingers

as we rarely try to halt it

for the first time we fought with a lover

the first times

so many first times

too many too count

all leading us down the winding road of our lives

taking us further and further from our innocence

The path closes behind us

a shrinking room

until we have nothing else

except for the brutal reality

to envelope us.

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