#twcwriting

[tellherium]

It was Never about You //

3 of 3: Poems From the First Evening I've Spent Alone in Over a Month

[n-ehpamoi]

A sound, solemn and slow, this way comes. Meandering, it makes it way to me -- steady and unrelenting -- A wave, so solemn and slow, this way comes -- and I will wade out to it's embrace, willingly -- My mouth open wide, to drown there in it's wake -- It's mouth open wide, to add another ridge Into the unending breadth of it's waves.

In an eternal slumber, brought on by cacophonous sea, I will dream of teeth and nothing else.

I desire a wave hungry, and evermore, unstoppable, to swallow me whole.

[kiramalibu]

when you choose love

it will become a practice

that will transcend into a habit

that you’ll never want to quit

you’ll one day see that hate

has no place in your heart

kira malibu

[epictusz]

Dance upon the cobbles

Laugh amidst the rain

Love beneath the moonlight

Ignore what’s all your pain

~~Epictusz Salvatore~~

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[lslaathaug]

You’re better at showing love;

I’m better with telling you, “I love you.”

Somewhere in the middle we meet.

I’ll tell you how much you matter 

in the grandest of terms, and you’ll 

show me in the tiniest of ways. 

I’ll describe the Milky Way 

as an ocean of lights

reflected in a tea cup,

and you stop the car and

point up at the real thing.

[freezingat90]

i hate poetry

i hate the sentences twisting and threading through each other

i can’t stand the long words, descriptive words,

trip-on-your-tongue words

“her lips were cherry blossoms”, i hear

her lips are raw flesh, raw feeling, and that’s it, i think.

zeus strikes me down with metaphors instead of thunderbolts, similes instead of lightning

i hate poetry, i tell myself

i hate its winding words and all-knowing narrators

i hate feeling the intense gaze of someone so passionate about their words they could burst into flames

i hate the content cozy feeling that runs through me,

but even worse is pouring your heart into words, letting descriptions and sentences fill your mind until it overflows

and you know you want to write you want to let out all your sorrow your sadness your happiness your anger

i hate poetry,

for it breaks my dams

and shatters my careful walls.

[ace-of-words]

painted red

i. what is self acceptance? for me, it’s stirring hot chocolate with a candy cane and languishing in bed.

ii. i write because i don’t like the way i am– i write to give myself the false semblance of pride– i write because i can’t talk so i have to do something so that my thoughts don’t fester inside this thing we call my mind.

iii. i don’t really deserve the world. i don’t really deserve to take up space, to talk, to think, to have people who want to listen to my thoughts.

iv. and i write about blood. i use it as a muddled up metaphor for all the terrible things i think/i feel. i use it as a stand in for a particularly bold color. i use it to describe anger and sadness and it is only one word that bleeds off the page into reality.

v. this blood is no longer metaphorical (it’s suddenly as literal as the blade running down my skin).

vi. the letters stand across my body– they are painted red with anger that the water washes away and replaces with a crippling void.

vii. i am nothing– there is nothing left of me to accept.

–l.m.

[tellherium]

my angel numbers have moved from 111 to 222 and I am doing my best to think more than ever