Poetry & Things

"If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad" -Lord Byron

[justaburnedoutskank]

Hey lol I’m crying because the guy (and my former muse) who broke my heart emailed me again so I made this, it’s not my style of writing, I’m not going to bother proofreading it. You should read it though, it’s the raw version of me and I don’t know if I’ll make anything like this again.

My phones been ringing since you left,

Just some friends checking up on me.

But when I hear it I want it to be you,

And that’s kind of the issue.

Because I know you won’t love me,

You never knew how.

I tried and tried again,

Held us up for 3 months.

Then I left and learned how to scab,

Just for you to reopen my wound.

I guess I’ve never had depth perception,

Because I know the drop will break me again,

I guess I don’t really care about that.

Maybe I’ll find something to be sorry over,

Thinking I need your forgiveness.

Please tell me why I wasn’t enough to love?

Why you just didn’t know how?

When you see my name in media do you cry?

Because I know I do.

I really do.

Those aren’t the two words I’ll say one day,

I don’t have anything left to give you.

So say sorry to our future lovers,

We will never love properly again,

If we even did to begin with.

For you have become me and I have become you.

And I can’t clean you off me,

That tends to be my reoccurring issue.

Sure I’ve fallen out of love,

But I miss the piece of me you took.

I’m sorry for doing the same.

I wish I hadn’t taken yours these days,

I really can’t handle the weight…

I can’t handle being reminded of you when I look at myself.

And I can’t handle falling apart when a song comes on the radio.

I can’t handle that you pushed me to leave.

How it’s been almost a year,

And I know I’ll never come back.

That’s really what hurts the most…

I don’t know if I’ll reach out,

What would I even say?

You know I’m stupid and muted,

I know you wouldn’t expect anything.

Thanks love, I ’ve really enjoyed the product,

Even though it was nothing like the description.

I’ve enjoyed getting addicted to pain,

To you,

To being neglected,

Rejected,

Shattered and broken.

I hope you’re doing better,

And that was all you should have said.

Talking to me after months wasn’t very “I’ll never leave, I’ll never hurt you” of you.

Sorry, just hope you’re doing better,

Even though I’m stained in my own dry tears.

I just want the best,

Just god I don’t know…please don’t contact me again.

[justaburnedoutskank]

Do YOU have relationship trauma? Yes, no? Whatever the answer you’ve come to the right place! Because by reading this poem you can change that status!

I’m sitting at the dining room table,

I realized I never really let go of him.

I fell out of love the same way I fell in,

And I knew from the start my world would dim.

I braced for the impact of the fall,

And the gravity of putting down my love.

Our hearts weren’t as light as feathers,

The weight of them was something I never spoke of.

Even though they were so curled up and void,

They were so heavy that they almost bore iron.

I had no idea how delicate mine really was,

Before I knew we had already set it on fire.

Because that’s how we were supposed to love,

A wildfire in the midst of our greatest memories.

A love that wasn’t supposed to go out,

Fueled with the most explosive gasoline.

One that wasn’t supposed to fail,

Though heartbreak never gives you a heads-up.

We didn’t want to be like our parents,

So he told me over and over again to grow up.

Why does this still bother me?

I wonder if I’ll ever forget the pain he caused.

Honestly it’s the good memories that cut deep,

But I’m too estranged from him to not move on.

I’ll say this now if you haven’t caught on,

I may have no love for him but my scars tell it all.

When I look at them I’m reminded of reality,

Then when I need to cope I forget the protocol.

I think I’m so far gone because-

Along with the man who ruined me…

My lover has also died.

I’m mourning alone and you can’t tell me I’m not,

But as alone as I am I don’t know if I can even try.

[these-words-i-write]

They say time heals all things, so why doesn’t it feel like healing? Why does it feel like forgetting?

-2/14/21

[queenladeefah]

THE DAY THE SUN REFUSES TO RISE

My Baba was sad that evening;

The landlord has just left;

'it's been six months since you lost your job;

I have tried my best,'

He had thrown like a missile

and as silently, he had stalked away;

Head held high, tall like the Iroko,

just minutes after we had told him;

No pay, no school;

the school has sent us home,

and my Mama had cried that

The store is empty;

There's nothing left to eat!

Baba said nothing; Baba did nothing;

He just sat still; on the Baba's chair—

The old, worn-out brown couch

on the verandah overlooking the gates—

staring at the skies which looks like

the akara my sister had fried last night;

orangy with patches of blood,

patting my head softly as he rocks me to sleep

humming a familiar, yet unfamiliar song

almost like the siren

of a lost ship who'd glimpse a lighthouse—

filled with hope yet burning with fears,

and then there was silence—

I dreamt of a sun whom refuses to rise,

and then there was chaos—

I awoke to gutwrenching wails;

My Baba was gone.

©2021, Ladifatu Isa

[yellowhippo]

June 8

Another day feeling detached, like my emotions dispatched to someplace unknown. Were my feelings ever my own?

I think not.

It was never mine Always owned by the divine. So who am I to complain? All I need is to chug away like a train.

I think so too.

6:40 - 6:44pm

[sionavalentine]

“There is something so beautiful about a love that consume one to the point of destruction.”

-Siona Valentine

[snsproductions-deactivated20220]

I'm too scared to write because I know when I do it will slice you like a thousand diamond daggers and leave you bleeding out on the rug.

I'm too scared to write because this psychic laser will jet forth from my forehead and burn you within an inch of your sweet mortality.

I'm too scared to write because like a swift and slick magic trick I will force you aware of your feckless flaws and the claws of your sporadic conversation.

I'm too scared to write because with crimson hands I will cup your face and force you to fixate upon the ocean eyes that burst and crash with every teardrop.

I'm too scared to write because I want to protect you from my flaws. I can bear it, I think. I can bear this, my therapist says.

My therapist says I carry the men of my love on my back to protect them from the world.

My therapist doesn't know how to let you all down.

And so we continue to time-travel.

[just-someb0dys-daughter]

twelve

Why is love all I know to write of

When it is the least of what I know

Hope the most important to hold onto

But the easiest to let go

Why is it that what we wish for

Consumes our minds and souls

Is this all that they will see

Once I've gone and paid my toll

[mystic-poet]

UNLEVELLED

It is when alluring fireworks explode in my sky,

Dazzling lights shine before my eyes,

And each of my nerves prances in euphoria.

Or when the tears moist my cheeks

And smudge my vision,

The world loses all colour

And everything becomes black and white.

Also when it all seems to be melting away

As anxiety tingles from my scalp to my toes

And I kick my heels as time jogs like a snail.

Yet beyond the tip of my nose,

The world runs parallel to me;

So contrary to the emotions

Swelling inside.

Unaffected! Uninterrupted!

It’s awful, isn’t it?

When the ambience around

Insults your aura….!

[stainsofzeesink]

I walk down the Forest, 

Trees - dark and tall,

Hovering above, covering the sky:

The moon shining overhead -

Yet there's not a speck of light.

As the forest came to an end,

I stare at the sky

The moon shining bright,

With its perfect blue light.

I sat down near the river stream,

The water flowing silently

I can see my faded reflection,

Turning a new shade of blue,

Maybe this night will help me see;

The different shades of you,

Different colours of the sky and the sea,

To see the whole world and its beauty under the full blue moon-

To see the Different shades of the night,

Turning from black to white to something blue -

Something so poetic, something magical -

A Beautiful celestial 

Maybe this night would help me discover,

The depth of love that i buried-

Few hundred meters underneath me - 

Wounded, sacred and lucid.

There's no soul around, i sit alone and ponder:

Why people feel the need to hide,

Their true colours?

Why cover thyself with hundreds of different covers?

Once in awhile, we get this rare opportunity,

To see another side of us,

Another side of something so consistent in our lives.

Everything is washed in one colour,

The perfect hue of blue,

And you can finally start to see things from a different point of view,

I start to sense how the depth of the colours changes,

how shallow each person is.

How they hide their true intentions,

Under the facade called attractions;

The wind starts to pick up its pace,

I feel the urge to run out of this place.

But i stay calm and sat for while,

Cherishing every second of this rare moment,

Thinking about the whole world,

Underneath the blue moon sky.

The urge to get out of this place starts to take over me,

I ran and trip and i ran till i couldn't breath,

I take a glimpse at the moon shining in the sky -

A perfect shade of blue -

The night did came to my rescue-

As i walked out of the forest,

With the trees hovering above -

I never really understood why-

Is the moon blue tonight.

© : stainsofzeesink

[mirah-amor]

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.

-- Alfred Tennyson

[trans-writes]

“home” is a portrait i’ve been working on for years. it’s my greatest work and it will never be done. i get to choose what i put on this little canvas of mine, and you’re right near the center. surrounded with all the soft things that have ever brought me comfort. things and people come and go and i paint them in and cover them up accordingly. home is always changing to fit the newest style of safe and i can’t help but love what i’ve created for myself

this canvas of life is mine to fill –r.a.b.

[helenasurvives]

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am seven

and my reply is

pink

because i am a girl

and pink

is a princess color.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am ten

and i like

green

because a boy told me that pink

is lame and girly.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am thirteen

and i tell them

purple

it is unique and spunky

like i want to be.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am seventeen

and i just say

red

i do not say

it is bright and angry at the world

as i am

i cannot form the words to express

all of my frustrations

so i paint my lips with

rage.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am twenty

and it’s pink

i remember the joy

of being a child

i reclaim the freedom

of femininity

because i cannot remember

what my shoulders felt like

before the depression

hung from them.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am twenty-six

and my answer is

brown

it confuses most people

they don’t see it

they may think of dirt

and dust

and dead things

but it is coffee with friends

and the chocolate chip cookies

my mom used to make.

it is my hair

and my eyes

amber and gold

in the sun

and i love myself

again

[a-moonlit-poet]

It's been so long,

Since I got hold of a pen.

It's been so long,

Since I got hold of my thoughts.

I miss,

The sound of rustling papers.

The scratches of pen on it.

And the happiness

Of a brand new creation.

I miss,

The smell of raw pages,

And my writing

Devouring it all over.

Various curves,

That lightens up my soul.

Different shades of ink,

Indicating my thoughts.

Time just flies away,

When I write.

And unknowingly,

Creates the best moments for me,

Until I feel

Satisfied.

People say,

'What's so difficult in writing?'

I ain't denying.

Writing is easy.

It is just

Jotting down words.

But the difficult part,

Is to somehow make those words,

Melt your heart.

[mushyfeelings]

[kiramalibu]

you cannot beg someone to love you

and i say this as someone who once

did and someone who has been

on the receiving end of someone

else’s unwavering affection

if this is a game then i suppose one’s

tolerance is a testament of just how

much you love them

i say not to beg because why should one have to?

love is the only thing

that we can all afford in this existence

so, why make it more complicated

than it has to be?

why should one pay for something

that is supposed to be free?

love // kira malibu

[these-words-i-write]

They say time heals all things, so why doesn’t it feel like healing? Why does it feel like forgetting?

-2/14/21