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We read books and highlight the lines that speak to us, we listen to music and tattoo the lyrics that touch us, we turn to poetry and learn the lines that become us; we're all hopelessly inept people, struggling in vain to coherently express ourselves. We know what we want to say but we don't know how.

—ehnigma, reasons why i write

aestheticpoetrry

delicatepoetry

“I watched as the stars fell from your eyes, dripping slow as honey. The once golden light you held in them, slipped into a somber sleep. Your cheeks covered in rainfall, your breath heavy. I reached for your hand, your body once kissed by the sun and covered in warmth; now cold and quiet. The days passed, our pages turned. Time kept ticking, you kept drifting. The smile that once stayed strong became weak, weary of trying. We laid in the same bed, lost in the same sheets, buried under the same dreams. Yet, I still felt alone. The body I once held close was now a stranger, a rock hard reminder that you were fading, ripping away from me. I, no longer the waves that pulled you to shore. I, no longer the the spark that ignited your fire. I, no longer butterfly that tickled your tummy. I, no longer the one you loved. You grew sick of me, sick of the love we shared. I was an old record you’ve heard too many times, a bittersweet taste you couldn’t wait to wash out of your mouth, a guest that overstayed their visit in the home of your heart. You left without even opening the door. You left by taking away pieces of yourself from me. You left in small doses, weaned me from you. You left slowly, but surely. You left.”

— i.c. / / You left like this. (via delicatepoetry)

aestheticpoetrry

beautifulldestruction

“I hate being in a silent room full of people. You become aware of everyone’s breathing and you know that everyone’s aware of this eerie silence and of each other’s breathing too. But even though the room is silent, you hear the underlining screams of everyone’s deepest secrets, and you know these secrets are haunting them because their gaze flicker away when you’re gaze falls on them, as if they said it out loud. But the silence is screaming the truth for them because the silence has heard their cries at 3 a.m. and surrounded them when no friend did and when their thoughts were as loud as someone yelling it at them. I hate silent rooms, for the haunting truth hangs in the air and desperate lies to cover them up lie on the tip of everyone’s tongue, ready to spill out when taunted.”

— A.S

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brokenbitchhhh

“When I first met you, was scared, because in that exact moment when we locked eyes I knew I was fucked. My insides were all in knots, my breathing pattern went out of control when I was around you, and my heart skipped a beat for you. In that moment I knew that I didn’t want to lose you in my life, I couldn’t imagine you not being there for everything. But here we are now; distant. You’re gone, and every time something occurs I just want to tell you about it. Whenever I see something that reminds me of you I want to call you, but you’re not here anymore and I need to accept that. I need to accept that you’re gone; for real this time.”

— ungivenlove

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cigarettesandsarcasm

“It’s so weird how it’s been 9 months since I last got to touch your hands, or feel your kiss, and yet I remember everything so vividly. I hate that I’m still not over you, and no matter how hard I try to be, everything always leads back to you. It doesn’t matter how many guys I talk to or temporarily fall for, all that matters is that at the end of the day, it’s you on my mind. Forgive me, I know I’m pathetic for still missing you and craving you when I doubt that I even cross your mind.  You’re still constantly appearing in my dreams, and it breaks my heart that that’s the only place where you consider leaving to be a mistake, and where you still love me… Honestly? Sometimes I doubt that you ever even did love me. They say that when you love someone, you can never really get over them, but you got over me too quickly. It’s been 9 months and I still love you, but you stopped loving me like 10 days after the breakup, so I guess now we know who won the “I love you more” fights.”

— Things I almost said but didn’t.

aestheticpoetrry

unwrittenphrases

it doesn’t get easier. there is no off switch you can use to shut off your emotions, no kill switch to wipe out his existence, and no delete button to remove all the memories. you’ll still feel his arm going down your waist and you’ll still catch yourself thinking about the way his eyes shine when he laughs. you’ll remember the day he told you he loved you and you’ll remember the night he wished he didn’t. and you’ll hold onto every memory, good and bad, because no matter what, you will always love him.

aestheticpoetrry

delicatepoetry

Ripped at the seams when you first met me, you were convinced your kisses could stitch this scarred skin together. But it only burnt me to be loved with warmth. A shell of a soul, a glass half empty heart. I do not take love easily, and I never accept it fully. So when you held me together as I broke, the blood from the aftermath sunk our ship. I jumped from the sails and couldn’t let you guide me any longer. I was a storm brewing, and sea salt tears interrupted our kisses too often. I could not be the shattered piece that cut you, could not be the one to show you what lives behind stone cold walls. God, you only ever loved me with the sun, only ever touched with rose petal fingers. But I could not be the one to taint the blue sky locked in your eyes. A mind full of dark clouds only brings rain, my love.

aestheticpoetrry

6pmwrittings

surviving-hero

I want to scream and I want to cry, I want to run and try to escape from this messed up world. I want to scream my lungs out and shout and let it all out but I can’t. Why? Because every time you ask me what’s wrong, I feel selfish. I feel selfish for wanting to tell you that I can’t breathe when I’m around people. I feel selfish for wanting to tell you that every single day is like hell for me. I feel selfish because they told me that selfishness is talking about myself. I’m sorry that I don’t talk about myself much but they told me that it’s wrong…

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asoftepiloguemylove

"and when nobody wakes you in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?"

Charles Bukowski

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sempiternal-poet

“You gave away your heart too fast because you’re so desperate for someone to love you. You want someone to light your soul and body on fire. You want someone who would catch you when you fall without a second thought, without a single doubt. You are terrified of the unknown, of your heart being broken into a million pieces, and you’re scared to be alone because all your life, you’ve lived in solitude. You don’t want to be alone anymore.

You want someone who would give you the world and more. You want someone who would look at you like you are the stars in the night sky. You want someone who is excited to love you, to learn everything about you and what makes you who you are. You want someone to comfort you on days where life gets too complicated, on days where you can’t even get out of bed, on days where you are nothing but a huge ball of anxiety. You want someone to look at you and think that they found the person that they’ve been looking for. All you want is for someone to love you, and there is nothing wrong with that.”

—S.V // all you want is for someone to love you // @ sempiternal.poet on Instagram

aestheticpoetrry

darling-youre-my-demon

“I mean, they say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later, when someone says your name for the last time.”

— fucking.diary

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tullipsink

inkskinned

“I want to know you.”

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tullipsink

weltenwellen

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Images

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tullipsink

But just because you're strong and resilient doesn't mean you never need someone to be there for you, to take care of you.

— Tammara Webber

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mmoxo

gnarhh

ironic how being empty can feel so fucking heavy

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aurelle

iambrillyant

“you hold on to connections that you feel disconnected from, and then you wonder why you feel so disconnected from yourself. sometimes self love comes in the form of admittance—admittance that no matter how long or strongly you hold on, you can never force growth in a connection.”

— iambrillyant

aestheticpoetrry

oldwinesoul

—ehnigma, reasons why i write

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delicatepoetry

You let sorry sleep in your throat, made it a permanent bed. You’ll cough it up at any chance, you think everything is your fault. You carry a chaos inside your chest, it bangs and scratches at your bones. One day it’ll overflow. Your flesh is not paper, you are not a canvas to a razor. The scars will only be souvenirs of broken moments. You will say they’re stories, but you know they feel more like landmarks of how you failed. Your mind is messy, your heart is aching. Your skin crawls at the thought of it all. You shove the sadness deep into your pit, let it rot and sit. It boils over, only builds to burn you. You’ve become a ghost of a girl, a single haunt to an abandoned home. Who you are, and who you were, are two strangers fighting to open the front door. You are at a constant war. You are too young to be this blue, too quiet for such noise in your head. You were not born to wish to be dead. You’ve got a softness inside you that melts and bends. You speak in sighs, talk with your eyes. There’s a garden of guilt growing in your lungs, the days go down and it’s only getting harder to breathe. It’s all too much for your simple soul, too complicated to control. You bear a weight of a world that only wishes to ruin you. Six feet under soil without a shovel, a walking wreckage trying to grow from rotting roots. You were meant to flourish, meant to bloom into something sun kissed, but warmth hasn’t touched your body in ages. Little girl, set fire to the dark, burn the bridges it crosses to your heart. Turn the rust to gold, bring the death to destruction. Dig the doom out of your hair, let misery melt by the moon. You are an angel with her halo hung low, a shadow of a girl with broken wings. But please, please stay for life and what it brings. You have worth inside you, a purpose pumping through pulse. Hold onto the hope you carry in your palms. Swing from the stars, girl, you are their child. Made from the dust of the dying, you were always meant to shine, always meant to find the light. But sometimes we must collapse before we turn bright.

Isabel Cabrera / note to self