21poetsunion

The difference between us? You quit.
—  Sparks fly between hardened hearts and harder heads.
If I could only tell my daughter ten things it would be this:
1. Be as nice to people as you can. Everyone’s dealing with something different, and kindness can do wonders to even the most hateful hearts.
2. You’re never alone.
3. It’s okay to not be okay. We weren’t born perfect and whatever you’re feeling someone else is feeling too. We can always work through it together.
4. Put on makeup because it’s something you enjoy doing, not because you think it’s going to attract an admirer.
5. I’ll accept you for whoever you are. But not everyone will. Just be prepared. 
6. When it’s raining outside, go dance in it. Get up really early and watch the sun rise on the beach. 
7. Whatever you choose to do with your life is fine. Just make sure you love doing it.
8. Whoever it will be, girl or boy, you’ll find someone you love more than yourself. Cherish them and don’t rush it. 
9. Sadly, not everyone you come across will have the same heart as you do. I know it’s disappointing but look at the glass half full. There are people who’s heart mirror yours. 
10. Keep and open mind. Life throws a lot at you. Remember that the worlds still spinning and the sun still rises in the morning and sets in the evening.
—  9/24: Dear Daughter (via she-lives-through-poetry)

Thoughts On Taking You Back:

No.

You should have thought of this while you were cramming my heart through the mail slot with ‘return to sender’ stamped across the atria.

You should have thought of this before I showed up at the post office with mascara stained cheeks, bloody heart clutched in both hands, before I searched high and low for a forwarding address.

You should have thought of this during the midnight phone calls, when I begged and pleaded for you to come back to me.

You should have thought of this before you stopped answering, before I sacrificed myself to the endless ringing, promised my firstborn child to the dial tone.

You should have thought of this when I dropped to my knees, hands folded in prayer, beseeching every deity I could imagine to change your mind.

You should have thought of this before you saw me kneeling before you and kicked my teeth in.

You should have thought of this before I ripped my chest open and put all the pieces of my broken heart back in again, before I polished your fingerprints off my ribs, before I stitched myself up with no anesthesia, before I learned to deal with the pain.

You should have thought of this before I deleted your number, before I wiped the saved messages, before I started turning my phone off when I was feeling nostalgic, before I started longing for other people’s voices in the middle of the night.

You should have thought of this before I dusted my knees off, before I picked my incisors up off the floor, before the blood clotted in my mouth, before I regrew my smile.

Thoughts On Taking You Back:

No.

I am so much better off this way.

How am I supposed to put this into words
When what I feel is unexplainable?
What I feel is
Driving home at 3am
Finding that one song on the radio
That will make me cry
What I feel is
Listening to memories exchanged
Finding I don’t quiet know
Where I fit in
What I feel is
Meeting new people who are just friends
Nothing more and I don’t know
If I’m ok with that anymore
What I feel is
Uncertainty, inadequacy, instability
There I put it into words
Does it make it any better? I don’t think so
Somehow it just makes me feel it
All the more
Desperation, frustration, insecurity
Hopelessness, loneliness, hostility
Anger, depression, resentment
What I feel is
I know this life isn’t fair but I had faith
Faith in something bigger, something more
So where’s the bottom line?
Where’s the fruit of my labor?
Where’s my 8am sunshine
My kiss at midnight
Where’s the hurricane I’ve been searching for?
There’s only dry winds and humidity
Sticking to my body like a second skin
What I feel is
My feet are moving forward
The scenery is changing and yet
It’s like I’m going back
What I feel is
Will I remain this way forever,
Nameless and alone
Trying, trying, trying but
I’m not that lucky
I’m not that clever
Trying, trying, trying but
What I feel is
I can put my whole heart into this
Trying, trying, trying but
It will still crush my soul.
— 

M.

 what i feel is i’m ending before i even had the chance to begin. 

She breathed life into the universe.
He struck down man after man.

Her fingers curled perfectly around the hands of children.
His voice rumbled in a way that sent animals into hiding.

She knew nothing other than undying devotion.
He could not keep his eyes on just one woman.

Her gentle eyes could always get her her will.
He preferred rage that no one could ignore.

She was the perfect woman.
He was the perfect man.

They were never perfect together.

—  Hera and Zeus

Recently I met a girl who brought life to the room she walked into. But you could still see the crack in her smile that told you she had a mending heart. Whoever had broken it, girl or boy, never knew the toll it would take on her mentally. Her laugh was never quite the same. She hesitated before looking you straight in the eye; for fear of facing judgement. She was a beautiful girl, but hesitated before thinking so because she had never been told the truth. She’d been lied to, forgotten, and replaced. But she’d also been loved, cherished, desired, and she remembered.

She taught me to remember.

—  I also have been loved, cherished, and desired; so have you.

9:26 p.m.
I watch you crumple into yourself with your shoulders square and your head held high,
I don’t need you to collapse to see you break,
I can see it in your eyes.
I promise you that it will get better.

10:38 p.m.
But first it must get a whole lot worse. You fall apart an hour later,
Broken chunks of your façade fall to the floor in a hotel bathroom,
Shattered pieces of your smile are ground into the concrete outside.
Mascara stains litter your cheeks and your entire being is riddled with holes that he used to fill,
But I promise you don’t need him to live.

10:52 p.m.
He was the laughter on your lips and the air in your lungs,
The smile on your face and the pacemaker in your heart,
You beseech the empty night for a reason but there is only the sound of your sobs.
I promise you, you’re better off without him.

11:01 p.m.
You had to learn the hard way that love isn’t always final,
That love is raw and love is beautiful and love is strange and sometimes love is empty and then love is gone and all that’s left behind is tear tracks and stained tissues.
You say you don’t understand and I cannot help you,
I can only promise you that you do not deserve this.

11:32 p.m.
You find another empty soul,
A warm body,
A pair of hands to cup your hipbones.
You’ve known him for half an hour and he says “come alone”.
You fix your makeup,
Shave your legs,
Change out of the clothes you wore when he broke you.
I promise you that I will keep you safe.

11:58 p.m.
I hide behind a wall and watch him kiss you.
I wonder if he knows what happened to you tonight,
Wonder if he can taste the salt on your lips,
Wonder if he gives a damn.
You stay out and kiss him until your mouths bruise,
Then you disappear from the spill of brightness from the street lights.
I promise you will regret this.

1:05 a.m.
Five minutes past curfew and you want to be alone,
You slide between the sheets and say goodnight.
You do not want to talk.
You do not want me here.
I can see your shoulders shaking
I can hear your cries through the walls,
I promise you will make it through tonight without him (and a thousand more.)

7:42 a.m.
I wake up to find you shaking on the floor.
Wails erupt from your lips and sobs wrack your body.
Your fists beat the carpet and you say you don’t understand, that you really loved him, that you miss him, that you’re sorry,
And all I can do is hold you.
I promise this will not be the end of times.
I promise you I will love you more than any boy could.
I promise one day this will not hurt anymore,
But today is not that day and I cannot bring myself to spit out
Another empty promise.

—  Promises only go so far.

please.
my mother taught me that this was a magic word.
i aspired to be a magician.
i knew that one day, this would be my greatest trick.

please.
i just wanted the girl with stars in her eyes to look at me.
i waited for the universe to accept me.
nothing happened.

please.
the boy who sat in front of me in history class made my stomach churn in just the right way.
i hoped to do the same for him.
just once.

please.
the voices in my head refused to stop screaming.
i didn’t know what else to do.
i begged.

please.
i tried one last time.
i didn’t know what i expected.
magic doesn’t exist.

—  the things we are taught don’t always work out
It’s the little things that made me love life. It was the fact that I could watch the stars at night knowing someone was looking at them too.. And thinking “wow that’s amazing.” It was the fact that the sun could rise where I am and set where he was. It was riding with the windows down blasting my favorite song going sixty-five miles per hour. It was watching movies with my best friend till three in the morning. It’s staring at a brick wall after it rains. It’s knowing that I’m gonna love someone so much one day. It’s knowing that I have the privilege to live…Like reading your favorite book over and over again. To truly know what it feels like to be alive. Not everyone knows what that feels like, they walk in the rain.. They don’t feel it. The little things are what make life worth living.
—  It’s the fact that I can be spinning a thousand miles per hour and have the ability to stop and watch the world go by. (via she-lives-through-poetry )

A poet will love you like a raging storm.
She will begin to pour out of nowhere.
Her whispered “I love you”s will resound as thunder.
There is no stopping her.

A poet will love you like a new notebook.
She will let you know her every thought.
Your pages will become her sanctuary.
You will turn into a part of her.

A poet will love you like a drop of rain in the desert.
She will cherish you above all else.
You will give her strength to live.
The interaction will be forgotten in a matter of seconds.

A poet will love you like a car crash.
She will take you by surprise.
It will be over before you know it.
She will destroy you without warning.

A poet will hate you like a force of nature.
A poet will write about you like a factory.

—  She will turn even a speck of dust into a sandstorm
I heard you passed away last month.
When I got the letter in the mail I never shed a tear.
I remembered the one time I got to visit you for Christmas.
We didn’t get to put up a Christmas tree because you told me Christmas trees weren’t what Christmas was meant to be about.
Even though I tried I couldn’t remember the last time you even called to wish me a happy birthday.
I guess it was the fact that knowing you was a mystery to me.
You were just someone I had seen in pictures.
Nothing more than a face I would later on choose not to remember.
I wasn’t the only child you had, just the only one who you chose not to know.
Why me? In the six months you were apart of my life, what could I have possibly done to hurt you?
I share your last name but yet it means nothing to me.
It’s apart of my identity just as much as you were apart of my life.
—  Dad, Rest In Peace. (She-Lives-Through-Poetry)

i. she was lost in the world.
a speck of dust amidst vast skies that never seemed to end.
the stars blinded her.
all she wanted was to know her path.

ii. he had traveled through every corner of the galaxy.
he never cowered in the face of a black hole.
he knew that all stars burn out someday.
everything seemed to orient itself around him.

iii. he was everything she had ever needed.
he took her hand and flew right through the clouds.
she had never seen things as clearly as when she was with him.

iv. she was everything he didn’t want.
he knew the cosmos like the back of his hands.
even the most lethal meteor was just a plaything to him.
every fiber in her body was nothing.
he dreamed big.

v. he became the center of her universe.
he was her savior.
he showed her the light in the darkest of places.

vi. all she asked was to exist in his universe.
she had starlight in her.
she wondered why it wasn’t enough.

vii. she learned that her universe was just as intact without him.
he had never been a force of gravity.
he was just a boy with the world in his eyes.
she had the world right in front of her.

viii. we are all supernovas.
we stand out without anyone at our side.
we are strong.

It’s funny how when you’re younger people tell you that you can be anything you want to be.

But as you grow older, go through schooling, and learn right from wrong,
That opportunity is slowly pried from your existence.

When your five and you say you want to be a doctor they tell you to go ahead.

Twelve years later however, you can’t even get into college now because you got a b last semester.

It’s not the fact that I got a B. It’s that it’s unacceptable. When did a B stop become no longer passing?

The society they put us in tells us nothing about the real world. In the real world no one is going to base your worth off of how many A’s you got in the eleventh grade.

And it’s okay to be that kid with all A’s. Because I’m sure you worked hard for it, and it’s okay to be that kid with A’s and B’s because I’m sure you worked hard for it. And it’s okay to be that kid with mediocre grades that was hated by their English teacher freshman year. Because like everyone else, I’m sure you worked hard for it.

Life isn’t planned out, you may look at the kid with perfect grades and wish you were them but somewhere down the line they might wish they had more time to socialize in high school.

Stop comparing yourself with the other kid because they’re not you. You’re you, and no one else can be you. You’re much more than a letter grade. And you can still be anything you want to be. Redefine the word average.

—  Life’s not all about the next test. ( she-lives-through-poetry)