Searow’s Bitch

18, Poetry I write with nowhere to go

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

This summer tasted like cherries covered in lime juice and learning how to cope with no longer being a teenager. It was sour but I kept going back for more. I wanted to peel it all open and dig out the pits so I could savor the taste on my tongue. I licked the juice from my fingers and went back for more. This summer I didn’t starve myself of opportunity out of fear, I took and I gave. This summer tasted good.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

One day I will visit the olive and grape trees my great great grandfather left in Batroun. One day I will sit under the hot middle eastern sun and try to understand why he needed to leave. For now, I will eat tabouleh or kibbeh and sing Arabic hymns. I will carry his name and correct people when they mispronounce it. I will smile when I hear good news from Lebanon and one day I’ll hear it for myself.

[soracities]

Hamed Ashour, excerpt of "From Anas Al-Yaziji to his fiancé, Shaima Abu Al-Ouf, whose body he recovered after two days of searching", pub. Peripheries [ID'd]

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

God. I would give everything I love for him to love me the way I do. He knows the world the way I see it and if only he could see i do. He loves her and knows her the way I love him. I want nothing more to be loved by him like this. The way the sun meets the earth, god I want to be his. I will never tell anyone this. This is our secret. I miss you and I love you.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

Sometimes I’ll have the worst day ever and then I think “my face is evidence of generations of love” and maybe everything is ok.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

I knows she’s wonderful and she makes you smile—but do you ever think about me?

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

Death is like sipping out of a colorful plastic cup and hitting play on your old cd player.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

Some days I’m like God this is so hard why can’t I figure this out, and then I’m like oh hey never mind, it’s my first time living.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

It was never enough. We are a half done painting, a half written note and a half drawn sketch. We ran out of time and money. I don’t think I can love you anymore it’s so painful. It’s so incredibly painful. It hurts so much. More than it does to love.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

It is every woman’s most inner wish to be completely and utterly understood. By anyone who will listen. To learn the inner workings of her brain and understand why she is the way she is. Even when it’s terrifying to be known in such a way. We are made to be understood, and it is to the depths of our souls that we wish we were.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

I could tell myself I was over you for every second of 10,000 lives. Over and over. And yet, at the end of each life there would always be a second of you. So really I could live one whole life and never really be over you. You are my Achilles heel. You are my fatal flaw and you may never know.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

I need a sewing needle and some thread. I have to stitch myself back up, there’s a hole where you weaseled your way through.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

There is something so saddening about closing doors. No you cannot enter, it’s locked and I will let you in if I want to. Don’t knock, I will let you in on my own time.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

Not sure why but, in a another life I lived on a prairie. I had wooden walls and a large fireplace. I had spring not far from me and the stars were wide and bright. I sewed and feed my children. I told stories that widened eyes and expressed concern about when our crops would grow. I read and read and read. Until my eyes needed glasses and my husband attached a library to our house. He built it with his hands one summer. I had 4 dogs who roamed far and wide but always came back. I was free from chaos and harm. Life was good. I miss it.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

I’ll move out and change my couch. But I’ll keep the nightlight we bought for when your dreams got too terrible. So when you decide to come back home, you’ll see the light on and know it’s me.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

I have never felt anything softly. Everything I’ve ever felt cuts through my flesh and bone, slicing me open wide. I am bleeding always. They bandage me often but I bleed right through.

I am an open wound and I am eternally infected. That is my fate as a woman, a tear stained, mascara wearing empress. That is all I’ll ever be and all I’ve ever been.

And God, to feel it lighter and brush it off would be nice. But I am not nice, nothing I’ve ever been given was nice. I have only been handed roses covered in thorns.

You can find me in the grass, right next to the garden bed. Picking the roses and bleeding. I am always bleeding. No I don’t need stitches and yes you can borrow my sweater.

[saddestcrazygirlever444]

Now is not enough time. Why must we change like the leaves on the trees? Must our feelings always be fleeting? I will run rivers dry just to hear you say my name with I love you right after. Meet me at the telephone pole, whichever one. Or the bench, or the beach or the tree. Meet me somewhere and let’s start over. Just one of them please. You pick and I’ll find you, you don’t even have to specify, I can sense when you are near and when you are far. I love you. I think I will until the end of time.