🎵livia

I'm gonna start posting my poetry here! 🦝🪻🎹

[write-with-liv]

"I walk the edge of something unamed, a quiet ache that never loosens it's grip, a burning hunger stitched beneath my ribs, flickering like a candle in endless wind.

I reach for what I cannot hold, for echoes that dissolve at dawn, and every step becomes a question my body is too tired to ask.

I am frail from starvation; not of bread, but of closeness, of something warm enough to stay, something real enough to answer.

And yet, the ache beckons me forward."

("An Endless Hunger." - Alivia Serviss)

[write-with-liv]

"We have the same style, but she has better clothes. You said it like a passing comment, like fabric and thread could measure worth. I laughed it off then, but I've been unraveling ever sense.

You never liked my curly hair, but you love hers. I remember straightening myself for you, heat pressed into every strand, trying to become something smoother, something you wouldn't compare.

We're the same age, but she's much taller. Maybe thats why I felt so small standing next to you, shrinking in conversations that used to feel like home.

She shares all my interests, my taste in music, and my hobbies, but she's better at them. I didn't know love was a competition. Did you quietly keep score, or did I just lose without knowing the rules?

You couldn't wait until you had gotten rid of me before you moved onto her. That's the part that echoes, not the leaving, but how quickly i became past tense. I was like the third wheel in my own relationship. Still sitting there, watching the laughter i used to be apart of turn into something I was no longer invited too.

Months later, she still has you and she's still happy. While I still celebrate what would've been our anniversary. I light candles for ghosts, for dates that exist only in memory now, for a version of us that never got to stay.

And maybe we were similar; same style, same songs, same dreams, but somewhere along the way you chose the better version of me, and I was left learning how to be enough without you."

"A Better Version Of Me" - Alivia Serviss

[write-with-liv]

"I am the second warmth you feel after her silver fades, a whisper of fire behind her gaze. He calls me bright, but never first. I rise only when she has turned away, my glow a secret he cannot keep; yet one never spoken allowed. She, a pale and constant, wears his name in every tide. The Moon, his rightful orbit; his quiet, faithful gravity. And I, Well, I burn too close to be held, too distant to belong. He reaches for me in flares and storms, brief violences of longing, then returns to her cool certainty. Still, I circle. Still, I shine. A stolen light in borrowed hours, forever the almost. The almost dawn, the almost love, the almost home."

("A Second Light From Venus" - Alivia Serviss)

[write-with-liv]

"I laugh when they ask, say I never wanted it anyway, wave it off like smoke that never touched my lungs. I build a life out of other things, name them enough, call them whole, practice the shape of not needing until it almost fits. I learn the language of absence, how to soften every edge of it, how to make a hollow look intentional, like a room left open on purpose. I keep my hands busy with living, fill my days with careful noise, so no one hears the quiet question my body keeps asking me. But sometimes, in quiet rooms, when nothing is asking me to pretend, my body feels like an answer to a question I didn't ask and cannot change."

("Why?" - Alivia Serviss)

[write-with-liv]

"In a dislike meadow, where moonlight wanes, A fawn wanders admits the ancient glades. Soft steps grow weary, the night growing cold, As whispers of hunger through the dark wood rolled. From the thickest depth, their eyes aflame, A burning hunger that could not be tamed. Breath like a frost, growls harsh as stone, Claim the fawn, now lost and alone. The forest held her breath in mournful hush, As life was taken and dragged deep into the brush. A fawn's bright eyes dimmed in the night, Beneath the wolves relentless bite, No songbird sang, no flower wept, As the earth's secret, in silence, was kept. So ends the tale in ancient wood, When Nature's law reigns harsh yet good."

("A Life Taken" - Alivia Serviss)

[write-with-liv]

"Upon the vernal breath, beneath heaven's wide dome, A fawn is born in a wooded home. Received by soft earth, admist grasses so tall, While winds whisper, telling the tales of it all, The sun, a golden chariot, rides high, Casting his blessings from the clear sky. Small eyes, newly opened to see the world's gentle gleam, A creature of spring, born of nature's dream. The flowers bow their blooming heads low in reverence so deep, The forest awakens from her long winter's sleep. A mother's warm breathe, a doe's care, In the hush of the glade, The smell of life in the air. The birds sing ballads of the days long gone, eternal seasons, and ages past. Beneath the sun's ancient light, Sprang forth a new life."

("A New Life" - Alivia Serviss)