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@the-anonymous-scribbler
Moving Accounts!
Hi everyone! I know I haven’t been managing this account for a while now, but I’m moving to @moiraaward where I will be posting more regularly! I’m also going to try to add short stories as well as poetry, so stay tuned for more writing!
The first time I felt it was when I was five. I was still in preschool and the day was hot, A girl who did not like me decided I was “fat.” She chased me around calling me fat and saying That I was ugly because of my body. Her words touched my skin That had never really been forced to withstand The feeling she brought me. It felt like poison and it felt like fire, And once it was there, Shame would not leave. When I was eight my mother took me to a party, And when I reached to take a second cookie she said That I didn’t need that many calories. I thought back to that girl’s words and drew back my hand, That now felt all too heavy, As if I had once more been burned by Shame. I read a book when I was nine About a group of girls a little older than I was Who all had their flaws, But the girl that stood out to me the most Was the one who, when she reached out to take something to eat Was reminded by her friends that she was “fat enough” already. As the girl reacted, I felt myself drawn closer to the Earth’s core, Burning along with her in the pools of Shame that accompanied Existing. My best friend when I was ten was two years older than me And one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. Once, at her birthday party, when all the others went back for more food, She lay a hand on my arm and said, “Wait, you don’t want to end up looking like me, do you?” I nodded sagely, feeling her Shame course through the place Where her lovely form met mine, Not understanding what was wrong with looking like her. I could recount some instance of this emotion In every day of my life; I could regale you with every moment that I have spent In a dressing room Or a store, Desperately praying to find something that will fit And crying when the clothing I picked does not. I could mention every tear I have shed And prayer I have thought As I stood in a dressing room with a skirt around my thighs Feeling Shame for every cell in the way of the fabric. Fear is a bearable emotion, as are longing and sadness, But Shame is the devil that comes and roosts And will never, ever leave you. Shame is something fed to girls at too young an age So that every time they feed their bodies they feel its fire Trailing down their throats. Shame is a demon that we convince our daughters is a conscience, And then later we wonder why it is That they have been reduced to nothing but ash.
A poem for the society that taught me to hate myself (via artisticly-anonymous)
I am too big, I take up too much space, Not dainty or delicate, Filling more than my place. My legs stretch, Much too far, My arms are too long, I'm larger than a star. I am too present, I will take up what I need, Not out of pride, And not out of greed. But I am proud, I am a beauty in my skin, The right ratios for who I am, Not my heart nor my body is truly a sin. I am not too big, I am just right for me, And who I am is wonderful, And I am who I'm supposed to be.
Freya
I’ve decided that for someone with poetry in her URL, I don’t reblog nearly enough poetry
If you are a poet, please reblog this and please tag me #poetrylesbian in your poetry! I would love to read it!
Please also reblog if you post/reblog poetry and writing!
A house completely devoid of emotion, Walls and floors left to decay, Plants cared for with such devotion, A human presence lingering, but always far away. Too many years have gone by, Too many chances lost, Now rarely seen by living eyes, And even that comes at a cost.
Freya
These minutes tick by far too fast, Each one flying on the heels of the last, Stealing from me the precious future and making it the sacred past. There isn't nearly enough time, She's taking what is mine, What small sliver of solace will I find, In an all too crowded frame of mind.
Freya
Kings and queens we will be, Forever alive, you and me. They may try to strike us down, But they shall never take our crowns.
Freya
Wisdom under beauty lies, Vanity is but a guise. Showing off for hungry eyes Then suddenly, to their surprise, Her true intent begins to rise.
Freya
I long to be soft, All curves and smoothe edges. I want my voice to sound like velvet, I want my hair to smell of flowers, I want my demeanor to be kind and loving. I want to be soft. And I am. Some of the time. Some of the time I am sunlight on water, The gentle whisper of wind through trees, The hope flying in on the wing of a breeze. Other times I am hard and sharp and cold, My voice sounds like the a rough sea, Powerful. My hair smells like the salty ocean, Wild. My demeanor is that of a winter storm, Cold and destructive. I wish to be soft and sweet, A summer queen, But in reality I am sharp and harsh, A vengeful goddess.
Freya
A chain of black around my throat, Whispering the sins I wrote, Those horrible and haunting notes, Begging me not to stay afloat.
Freya
It's her voice I hear in the trees, Her laugh echoing in the breeze. I hear her name in every phrase, Missing her in every way. I think of her, knowing I might, See her smile in the moon tonight.
Freya
One moment frozen in time, Blazed into the back of my mind. Your soft lips meeting mine, Those three words and everything is fine.
Freya
As the ashes fell to earth, and every mortal died, history remembered their worth, despite how long they tried to hide.
Freya
And Athena said with godly power, "let those who do not understand, be gone within the hour."
Freya
And Calliope smiled and spoke in soft tones, "Ink is your blood, and words are your bones."
Freya
The tales we told In days of old Are worth more than your mortal Silver and gold.
Freya
And the dreaming god said "Wake!" but their souls were no longer his to take.
Freya
