#poetryandstuff

[itslovelybynature-blog]

forgotten

Being ghosted insinuates that the other party knowingly disappeared of their own accord. 

I feel forgotten. And in a way, that feels worse. 

You feel as though your personality and presence isn’t enough to warrant the thought or the time of the other person. You’re just… there. Taking up space that wasn’t important enough to be even semi-permanent in the walls of their mind. Just barely there to where a slight change in wind could mean you float away without a sound. 

A feather doesn’t choose to move, the wind forces it to. However, the wind is just doing what it normally does, not knowing the disruption it caused. Much to what it feels when you want to put your all into someone, but they unknowingly let you go. Letting your heart fall to the wayside without as much as a sideways glance. 

Just… forgotten.

[coach-rd]

ROSES ARE RED,,,, VIOLETS ARE BLUE,,,, I SUCK AT POETRY,,,,NOW I’M GOING TO DO SOME CURLS AND REVERSE HYPERS 💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼📝📐📚📓 #poetryandstuff #lifting #reversehypers #curlsforthegirls #gymgrind (at Rancho Cucamonga, California)

[rochelledelborrello]

#writerslife #dontbothermeiamwriting #writing #ithinkthereforeiwrite #talkingintongues #poetryandstuff #handwritten #creativewriting #creativity #inspiration #dontbothermeiamreading

[tryingluck]

movies, books, poems, tv shows… I always feared I’d never find what they advertised. I’d never find the love that takes your breath away, or makes your heart race, or the sinking in your stomach you never thought you’d enjoy. When the night is dark, silence consumes the air, when my heart feels empty, when I play with my own hands for lack of comfort, when I need someone… I have no one to look to but myself. because love may look beautiful on a computer screen or in gracefully arranged prose – but it is not as easy to find. oftentimes the person you love is not the person who loves you. there will be no happy ever after, there will be no prince charming. there will be no light in the dark. I’ll have to light my own dark. hope and comfort will never be easy to find in the form of another human who suffers as you do. hope and comfort you can only find in yourself. and that is a lesson I have yet to learn when I feel so mind-numbingly alone and lustful for human touch. “I don’t need anyone to hold me.” “I am able on my own.” “I do not need the love of another to complete me.” why do these just sound like empty words; advice lent to closed ears and a stubborn heart?

Adeena (tryingluck)

[tryingluck]

Why is it so much? Why is it so much to believe that everything works out? Why is it so difficult for me to surpass man-made borders on an infinite planet? Why is it I have to be defined by my gender, religion, nationality? Why can I not choose to be so much more? I dream of one day being far, far away from where I am now. In a city with too many worries and too many thoughts for any of them to matter. In a city where love is found as often as hate, in burnt out cigarettes on the corner of a street or a ray of sunlight hitting glass to make it seem as if the whole world were lit. In a city where rain and sun are both a thing to rejoice. In a city where I am okay and that feels enough. But what if these dreams remain just that – dreams? What then? What if my naïve, whimsical, easily-worked up brain has thought up a false image of success and happiness and comfort – one that I’ll never achieve. All I have to rely on is dreams and dreams and dreams on end because I was born where I was, in the religion that I was, to the gender that I was, to the family I was born in and torn apart thus with borders thrust on my being before I knew what they meant. So against these borders and against my mental health, I hope my dreams are enough for me to find my way.

Adeena (tryingluck)

[tryingluck]

Maybe

"Maybe if I slide my hair on my shoulder I’ll look more attractive. Maybe if I walk with my hips swaying, you’ll be seduced, forced against your will, to love me. Maybe if I change the way I talk, you’ll like me better. Maybe if I talk about the games you play, the books you read, the music you like, it’ll change what you think of me; how you think of me.

And maybe, just maybe, if I do it all right, when you close your eyes tonight, you’ll see me, and you’ll wish you would’ve loved me right."

A poem by yours truly. 

[tryingluck]

O my mistress, O sweet lover,

I’m trying to trace back our steps from where we first fell together, not in love, my darling, but we fell together, somehow, somewhere along the way. I’m tracing back our steps to when our eyes first met. I’m tracing back our steps and I’m trying to remember when we knew it was love. I’m tracing back our steps and I can’t remember where it all went wrong. I’m trying to trace back our steps and I wonder still how we ended up here.

And maybe, my love, while I trace back the steps, someday I’ll understand, How you made such a fool of me. Maybe someday, my love, I’ll see where I went wrong.

Maybe someday, my love, I’ll realize the fault was all mine.

[thebeverlyhills]

Impromptu Letter :

I heard you fought your own body,

to clean out the stench of lovers that did not bother to stay,

you tried to , didn't you?

Your mother gave you this skin that was your grandfathers soil,

it remembers it all,

the tormenting sun,

she will curse the day you forget to wear it like, some precious metal she passed down to you.

I heard you can smell lost lovers in the air sometimes,

like their scent forgot to leave the fibers of your clothing,

i heard the memories come flooding back ,

like the rain our people prayed for,

see when the Gods opened the skies it poured for three days straight,

 and on the fourth i found your sister crying outside,

she says we shall surely perish, we shall perish! 

See, when she awoke yesterday, half your house had washed away.

  Lover, i regret to be the bird that brings you this bad news.

Lover! Everyday this body is a battlefield i wake up in, and i don't know which side i've been fighting for.

Love was a thing we did while our house still had doors.

Yours Thabo

Mwayi