i am made of memories @sunsmemories - Tumblr Blog

“he is half of my soul,”

“as the poets say.”

‘sun’; their songs

head down my cereal bowl—i am eating my tears. there is no poem to this; i am just lonely. i am just tired and hungry.

so hungry.

gums aching, teeth dull; my stomach twists in ravenous pain, yowling for its appetite to be appeased. i don’t know what to feed it. i don’t know how to quell it.

so hungry.

suspended in the moment, i weep for every heartbreak. every grief. you never grow out of hurting, i think. you just learn to stuff it away. to tuck it underneath the rest of your organs until it throbs away like crowd noise. to pretend that you’ve forgotten it just so the bandaid doesn’t peel off.

so hungry. i still need to eat my cereal.

#poem #poetry #poetry aesthetic #girlblogging

fear grows in my belly, filling up the chasm wrought with the memories of a childhood spent underneath water. it was the safest place to ever exist, forged from pillows and blankets taken from our bedroom because forts are made to stop the chaos.

and the turmoil.

and the encroaching siege of relentless fighting—screams in the open space echoed, and we held our breaths because we were hearing the wars fought by unloving adults, building from the base of their throats until words were exchanged, leaving wounds and blisters and open cuts.

their war has torn this family apart. our parents have failed us time and time again.

i am scared because i know that i have been a burden to my sister—what am i without her?

(what could she have been without me?)

her dreams spill in the ruins, gluing this fragmented home together.

she is a shard, sanded down, until she fits into wherever she must.

she is an anchor, wading us through every storms until we break into still waters.

waiting. never ending.

#poem #poetry #my words #eldest daughter #youngest daughter #family poem

i used to love the way he made me feel helpless without him; loved the way i needed him to live.

i used to love the way he talked down to me; how he catered his words to be in their simplest forms when addressing me. i thought it was tenderness—something that had only been reserved to me and done to me, out of love.

i thought that the way he made me feel small was to protect me. from what? well, i deluded myself into thinking he was protecting me from the big, bad world; that by compressing me into my tender parts, he was shielding me from all evil.

funny how easy it is to mistake cruelty for affection when you have known so little—received so little—of love.

— daddy issues (it’s not your fault)

#alt: what they dont say in books #a personal vent; something i hope no one else would experience #poem #poetry #spilled poetry #spilled ink #poem society #poem aesthetic #poetry aesthetic

my mother asked me why i was so unhappy

i told her i wasn’t unhappy, i was just unfulfilled

and that was a different type of hurting.

— rings of hell // excerpts

#poem #poetry #quotes

the scab itches and i wish my nails were long enough to dig them into the itchy parts; not really scratching, not tearing, but hurting the skin just enough to drive away the itch.

the scab itches and my phone is close enough to dial your number. i see it in my head, how things would unfold: how i would listen to the rings—once, twice, three times, praying that the line connects so i could hear the way your voice would tear through the static and the space, before falling into my ears and tickling my heart.

but it’s been a while already since you left me. the wound has began to mend itself, and the webs of longing are now tangled with time, messy and grotesque—sometimes i still wake up to memories of you haunting me in my dreams—to stop the bleeding.

so the scab itches but i’ve trimmed my nails to stop myself from scratching my skin; i’ve deleted your number to stop myself from calling you.

— healing is uncomfortable

#poem #poetry #love poem #love poetry #sad poetry #sad poem #poems and poetry #heartbreak poem #my poetry

i think about the women in my notebooks and how i always knew i wanted them. more than emulation, i wanted to be with them.

to make them happy; to be there when they achieve their goals; to hold their hand when things are quiet and the sunset — beautiful and pink and bright against stained glass windows — fills us with melancholy; to pull their hair away from their face and kiss their cheeks and their nose and then their lips — a blessing, to me; to press them on the bed with my weight and bury my face on their neck, our skins scorching each other and our palms mapping along our veins; to sing them songs and write them poems.

i think about the women in my notebooks and how i always knew i could only love them in silence.

perhaps i am one amidst the sea of modern sapphos — my works to be ruined and burned and destroyed because my love is not to be.

(not yet, at least.)

— burned butterflies

#sapphic #poem #poetry #love poem #love poetry #for her

did you know? i told the moon about you.

it’s how i knew this was more than a fleeting emotion that keeps the butterflies in my lungs awake — i love you.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

how foolish of me to think that saying it more would diminish this stubborn feeling.

— first love

#poetry #poem #love poem #love poetry

i think of your mother and how she had whisked you away from my embrace that night in your room; how she had taken you from our solitude, in silence, and left nothing for me to speculate — i have realized, then, that this was how it would be when you are gone.

i have contested her, a lesser god but a divinity nevertheless, and in return, she had given me a taste of death.

— the deceits of skyros

#trying to get back to writing #the song of achilles #the song of achilles poem #the song of achilles aesthetic #patrochilles #patroclus #achilles #thetis #poetry #poem #ancient greek mythology and lore #ancient greek mythology #patroclus and achilles #tsoa #the iliad #love poem #love poetry

who am i without you?

i am an amalgamation of the person of your dreams and the person in mine—i took the scraps of the defeated gods and forged them with bloody knuckles and scarred palms to create this

being

who seeks love from the corners of your lips yet fears the shadows beneath your feet.

who am i?

i am who i could be in hopes that you do not leave me.

— dependency (is this love?)

#poetry #poem #poems and poetry #poems on tumblr

i looked in your eyes and for a moment,

for a soft and painful moment,

i knew i was loved.

you then turned away and we pretended

that our friendship isn’t built on

reciprocated

yet unsaid

love.

— not a risk taker, us two

#the what ifs that build up; the fear — do you love me or am i just imagining things?#and if ever do gamble our friendship would it be worth it #im scared to know the answer #poem #poetry #love poetry #love poem #mutual pining #unrequited #pining

he has woven his fallen lovers into flowers

and strapped them onto his beaming armour—

oh how he knows what mourning looks like.

oh how he knows what young love feels like.

perhaps it is of these reasons that he took you from me.

and now, my love, you join his lovers

in your death.

— of ashes and hyacinths

i grieve for a love

that is not my own—

perhaps this is what the fates meant

when they foretold

that your story will stand

with time.

infinite lovers

when he grieves,

it is easy to forget that he is the best of us—

the hands that tore down hundreds of charging men

now shake as they reach out to the empty space by his side.

the back that stood tall as he led us onward

now bows to the earth as though pleading the lesser nymphs that they be kinder than the warring gods;

as though begging them to bring back what once was.

but as he continues to grieve,

you begin to remember:

he is the best of us,

but his beloved was the best of him.

“‘what was his best part?’ / ‘his lover, patroclus.’ ” - circe, pg. 211

i have imagined a thousand lives that i would live when he is gone,

but none of them bore enough happiness

to make his death worth everything the prophecies spoke of.

ah, i thought,

there would be nothing left for me in this world.

i turn to my side and watch him sleep.

my love, i will follow you in death.

(“As for the goddess's answer, I did not care. I would have no need of her. I did not plan to live after he was gone.” - pg 188)

#im so sorry for being mia. i hit a massive writers block and struggled to breathe right back #also. when will i ever move on from tsoa? the question continues to be unanswered #the song of achilles #tsoa #patrochilles #poetry #patroclus #achilles #patroclus and achilles #the iliad #the song of achilles poem #ancient greek mythology and lore #ancient greek mythology #the song of achilles aesthetic #tsoa poem #poem #love poem #love poetry

the curse of my death is that

i am with you

through your madness,

stranded and unable

to save you.

— and they say it is mercy

i think about you when the sun dips low to kiss the earth

and the night engulfs the empty sky in an embrace

because i know in that silence,

that is when you are alive

-death, please come for me too

i wanted to use this one, it’s amazing <3 tysm!

have a great day! :)

ohh thank you too! best of luck on your homework!

#anon #ask

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i am made of memories