February 2011
40 posts
Let the winds blow
Let the winds blow over the grass,
the snow, the trees, the fallen leaves.
Let the winds blow dust into the air,
shake the buildings and drag the music to your ears.
Let the winds blow around you
twist your hair into knots, whip you from your spot.
Let the winds blow you to me,
freeing your heart, dissipating the past, changing your soul.
Let the winds blow.
January 2011
65 posts
Realization at 11:29
Everyone is fake. Not just the spray tanners, the work-out buffs, the drama kids, but everyone. We all put up this face to keep people out. We never show our true selves.
Bruising
Words are cruel masters
inflicting pain upon the mind and heart
whips to the soul.
They leave not only cuts,
but bruises that well up,
bright black and purple,
only slowly turning to dingy yellow
when the worst has passed.
They’ll bruise your heart,
never healing that lost love—
every reminder from a laugh to a cloth,
a punch to that bruise turning it’s colours
in...
Blue Peach
Liquids, blue, clear, gold,
filled red cups, flow down throats.
Warmth spreading to toes and fingers.
Red faces, poor words.
Loud voices, growing crowd.
Smalling room, thinning patience.
Sour stomach, sore heart.
All leave. All go.
Leave me in peace, alone.
Peanut Butter Snickers
Peanut Butter Snickers—
Console me. Help me through this:
This torment of watching him everyday,
happiness streaked across his face,
while I wither in pain, my past
haunting me with every smile,
with every visitor.
Show me away from this school,
this place and life
where I’m suppose to be living.
I feel dead: lost without a future
stuck in the present of nothing.
Carmel and...
Can somone stop the hurting?
Or at least make me numb?
Thoughts
Competition, breakup, why, macroons, rawr, boredom, depression, never understanding, always understanding, hiding, dark, light… Dark. Sleep. Leave.
A poem of Love
Evening Song by Sidney Lanier
Look off, dear Love, across the sallow sands, And mark yon meeting of the sun and sea; How long they kiss in sight of all the lands, Ah! longer, longer we. Now, in the sea's red vintage melts the sun As Egypt's pearl dissolved in rosy wine And Cleopatra-night drinks all- 'tis done, Love, lay thine hand in mine. Come forth, sweet stars, and comfort heaven's heart,...
A Friday Poem
Cold Sun reflecting off silver machines
passing windows, hunched persons draped in black, grey, white.
Quiet all around, buildings standing still.
Not a branch wiggles, just dripping water—melting ice.
Puddles on the streets, rivers to one’s feet.
Clouds streaking the sky with wispy lines.
Work becomes forgotten, a new day stretch ahead.
Poetry
Beautiful poetry
seem long forgotten
in my head, at the tips of my
fingers.
There are no more scarlet sunsets,
No more fairy-dusted snow twinkling in the moonlight.
No more taste of lusicious creme strawberries.
The stars are dead in the night.
Emotions bound me,
Empty.
Where are the words?
The words that once touched my lips?
Touched my soul and heart—your heart, theirs.
Here...
Amnesia
Memories of me,
to you
are like snow
in summer
in Florida.
Non-existent.
Memories or you,
to me.
are like snow
in winter
in Maine.
Quiet
Words spoke.
Silence.
Words Spoken.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
“You don’t. It doesn’t work. One day, you wake up, and you’ve learned how to...”
– –Sandra Bullock, when asked how one mends a broken heart. (via itookadeepbreath)
i would take a Sharpie Marker
sincesheleft:
and write all over your skin the shit i never got to say. not blue, not red, but jet black- jet black ink screaming my words. not softly. but hard and loaded with intention.
via mydamnscatteredmind.
Confession
I like to knit.
I like being around only 3 or 4 people.
I spend my Friday nights in.
Saturdays too.
I don’t like to drink I don’t drink.
I talk to my cats. And my fish.
I’d rather spend a day writing than shopping.
I like to be alone.
But I do need close friends.
I only have 1.5 of those.
I like to dress up on Saturdays. Everyday.
I like crowds.
Interacting with...
I’ve suddenly become accustom to be alone all the time, even when surrounded by people.
If you put on a smile know one knows.
Unless they really care.
Stars
Stars… You are mean. But I’ll try to find your humor tonight. For now, we are a truce.
“I don’t want to have to do this living. I just walk around. I want to be swept...”
– Me and You and Everyone We Know (via itookadeepbreath)
Suicide is the third leading cause of death for...
Theater people
(no one take offense to this… I know some of you out there are in theater: simply a mini rant) theater people bother me in that although they’re great outside their environment, they become self-centered, obsseive people when workin on plays. I can attest to this when I write but having friends/a boyfriend in theater gets really tiring when you’re not and don’t want to...
Perfection
Everyone looks for perfection: smooth skin isn’t good enough; it needs to be soft, flawless. Hair must be smooth, silky, wavy, long, highlighted. Bodies, thin, tight, perfect proportions. This isn’t just for girls, but guys as well. Just stop. Improve yourself in the way YOU want to. Find yourself and be yourself.
lovenn:
“I like how sleeping next to someone means more than sex sometimes, the body’s way of saying ‘I trust you to be by my side at my most vulnerable time’, you have no defenses when you are asleep, you tell no lies.”
- Eric Shaw
Back and here
My heart sighs/
The old cliche way/
Nearly content—a burning/
Flame slowly dying, but dying/
And one growing—filling me with/
Hope and warmth and love.
@ breathexsymphonies
(ah I’m so bad at navigating tumblr… can never find reply buttons or message buttons…) But I wanted to say thank you… that poem is beautiful: Though also very sad. I hope you are doing well. The light is slowly showing its way towards me… after a really long two days… well months, really. :)
Warning
Ruining your life person by person is a strangely short but painful process. Side effects include stomach aches, depression, crying, lack of appetite (or increase), burying under the covers, and feeling worthless.
It's like...
Letting the dream of publishing your first book you wrote die. In the end the book wasn’t good enough—you can think about the book, have it in your life. But it’ll never be published. It’s something you just have to live with.
I don't care anymore
It’s funny. You wouldn’t think that your heart could break over someone twice. It can. Mine just did. A mini-break-up with what I thought he was… again. Not that it matters to him. It never has.
I can plead, I can kick, I cam scream, but I’m never going to apart of your life anymore, am I?
Numb
Patience is wanning
Hope is failing.
The time goes on;
it grows later—the sun has set
the snow moves in.
Still, nothing comes.
Not a hint. Not a word.
Nothing.
And so I wait.
Growing numb—knowing the answer,
just waiting for it.
Perfection
Why does it have to be perfect? It’ll only makes it more confusing.
abrokensomething:
awaiting fallen tears but i cannot seem to find anything left in my heart worth fighting for
Make war not love
You wear a shirt that says
make love not war.
I can’t help but stare at you—
knowing I have no right to hate you,
but still I do.
Envy. Green-eyed monster. Jealousy.
I have it all. And I don’t care.
You are what I wanted to be.
You got to have him. As long as I did.
No, longer. You have him now. You can be friends.
I can’t.
You have the life I wanted....
A girl
A girl, I met but once
or twice
seems to hold a grip
over my life.
Her bright eyes, though dull with smoke
peer over me
judging my every move.
She still hangs there:
her name still painted.
Will I ever reach that status?
Or will I run,
collapsing under the pressure
to be perfect of a less than
perfect person?