#some poem

[suzenhelena]

Poem:

Artists Can’t Die:

 If you were to split the skin

Delve into the bloodstream

You'll see I’m made of ink

Of charcoal

Of graphite

I’m paper thin

And wax paper doll small

Hair of yarn

And emerald stone eyes

My bones are wire statues

Layered in sculpture clay

My skin is oil paints

And developer fixed

You can’t remove the artist

From the body

When they are

The embodiment of

Art

7-24-18

-SR

[suzenhelena]

Poem:

I'm a broken record

Not in the sense of uselessness

That of a sadness

Not of great perplexity

Of simplicity

A person is wound

Around the strings of my heart

Dwelling in the cavity of my chest

Not in my arms

Not missing neither

Just not here

Words as deep as

Ocean reaches

Words as light as drifting

Summer air

Whisper in my seaking ear

I love yous as sweet

Sweeter than sweetart

As warm as hotchocolata

Come home

To my arms and I'll

Come home to yours

After a year of great divide

From our beloved city

7-30-18

-SR

[suzenhelena]

I wrote this poem while I was in a really bad mental state last year. But I'm gonna share it becuase why not?

☆☆☆

I’m just tired

Words plucked from the

How Not to Worry About Me Dictionary

`    But in all honesty

There is a leaking faucet somewhere

I can feel it snaking it’s way down my heart

There are shattered shards of things

Better left unseen

    And don’t get me started on that

Damn broken clock

    I’m just tired

I say as I take my hundredth nap of the day

    I’m just tired

I promise as my friend asks me why

My mind is far away

    I’m just tired

I assure my worrying mother who believes

I’m plotting to commit suicide

And I promise that I really am not

    I’m just tired

When my loved ones suggest I see a

Therapist for my alleged depression

    I’m just tired

As I neglect to wear my usually fancy clothing for

The fifth month in a row

    I”m just tired

I asure as I slink back into my horrible routine

From when I secretly hated myself in middle school

    I’m just tired

I’m just tired

I’m just tired

Of fighting

But I really am not committing suicide

I just want to sleep

But no matter how much I sleep I don’t feel refreshed

I feel worse

Becuase my loved one is gone

☆☆☆

Write a while ago.

7-30-18

-SR

[suzenhelena]

These old streets don’t remember me As if an outsider If I were to walk these streets I’d be nothing more than a tourist Trying to capture old footsteps of the young women from before Since she exists nowhere And has a name that belongs to the decaying Might as well have my face plasters on a missing bilboared For I can’t seem to find myself 1-14-18 -SR

[suzenhelena]

Thinking

No amount of words could come close to being perfect; not in all the dictionaries around the world. I love you, and my words feel inetiquit to describe you.

1-14-18

-SR

[suzenhelena]

When I look at you Words I can't explain Swarm my heart  When you speak I wish I could  Memorize every word you say To a hard drive in my brain When you hold me  I wish I could remember every  Inch your delicate hands grazed Sweetheart I love you More than words could possibly explain  But I'll keep trying  Until my fingers bleed  And I use every word in the English dictionary

SR

[suzenhelena]

This existed once before:

Cacooned in your arms

A smile gifted to me

Our fingers dancing on one another's hands

This tranquility

This peace

It feels like it has existed for millennia

As if it were never a question

This admiration existed once

I believe only due to the

Ease we fall in to

-SR

[suzenhelena]

My soul is Fresh and dried  Flower petals lightly  Dusting the floor  My souls is  Old pages with words  Scribbled and written over  Strewed everywhere there is a surface  My soul is A light scent of mint  Something sweet and Midday rain showers  My soul is  Stones hanging from the rafters  Glittering sunbeam rainbows on The floor and walls  My soul is  Trees that stretch to the ever  Reachers fo the universe with stars twinkling In the branches    My soul is  Not dead

SR