365 poetry project

I’m sorry that I am soft
And easily bruised
This life has left me
Hypersensitive and emotional
Dripping with intensity
Like plums left in the summer sun
I know I’m messy when touched the wrong way
But maybe that’s all love is…
Learning how to eat rotten fruit
Without getting your fingers sticky
—  “Juice” by Jessy Hudson
We were depressed but because we had each other we pretended that we weren’t.
We pushed it down the same way we pulled our sleeves down over our arms and hoodies over our heads hoping no one would notice.
But that was the thing, we couldn’t fix each other.
We needed to fix ourselves.
We needed real love, love within,
love for ourselves before trying to love each other.
I let him go.
He let me go.
He found himself at the bottom of a bottle of vodka and
I still walk around at night hoping that I’ll see something familiar, maybe a glimpse of myself.
—  (188/365) by (KJ)
It’s not love in the traditional sense.
I love you.
I love being around you.
I love holding your hand and talking to you.
I love hearing your ideas.
I love how much of yourself you put into your life.
It’s not love in the romantic sense.
I just want to be there for you, to catch you when you fall and to help you along the way.
And I want you to be there for me too.
Because I love you.
I’m just not in love with you.
—  Thoughts on my newfound squish. A.A.C. (5/364)

TEN THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I COMMIT SUICIDE:

i. run into the middle of a field and scream into the sky, looking for someone to finally listen.
ii. learn how to say “breathe” in every language in hopes that i will find one that i finally understand.
iii. learn how to go to the movies alone. learn how to have a conversation with myself. learn how to be my own best friend. 
iv. finally commit to my relationship with happiness. stay the morning. cook them breakfast. tear up all the notes i left on their pillow about how it just wasn’t working anymore.
v. climb the tallest mountain. have dinner with the moon. close my mouth for once, and finally listen to everything she has to say.
vi. –

this list is not finished, because neither am i. i have spent ten years of my life planning how to end it, and i have finally realized that it is only just beginning.

—  // some things are best left unfinished // by (DS)
You are art. Every inch of you is incredible and no matter how many times I see you something is new. There are constellations hidden in your freckles and galaxies in your eyes. Your muscles are rolling hills and hidden valleys worth exploring. Your birth marks are not splotches, they are as much a part of you as your lips, hands, ears, or toes. You are more than you see yourself. So much more.
—  An open letter #15

Day One // Jan 1, 2017 

Spent all day driving
Ate and drank with friends not seen
New year, a good one 

 ——– 

I am restarting this blog, but instead of posting a picture and description of my day I will be posting a selfie – sometimes from my phone, sometimes not– and a haiku about my day. The goal is to be able to put together the poems at the end of the year, and the selfies is a practice of self love, with a secondary goal of not spending hours trying to take an “acceptable” picture but to love the way I look regardless of how silly or gross I appear to myself.

Recovery comes in stops and starts
It is not a linear progression
You will have difficult mornings
And peaceful afternoons
A frustrating day at work
And kittens to curl up with when you get home
Sometimes your journey will seem almost easy
And sometimes you’ll want to give up entirely
But even when it seems like
Your world has fallen apart
And you can barely keep moving forward
Try to remember that
No matter how bad it seems
You’ll get there in the end
And a minor setback
Just paves the way to new success
So just be patient
These things take time
I promise
You’ll be just fine
—  “I Am Not Surrendering Today” by Jessy Hudson

i don’t want to kiss you at midnight on new years eve.

I want to kiss you at 1159 so I can end the year in soaring through the constellations that dance behind my eyes whenever you touch me. I want to end the year thinking of how good it would feel to have your lips linger in places that I didn’t even know I enjoyed until our paths crossed. 

I want to look in your eyes and smile at 12 am and know that through all that happened in the past 365 days I am still gazing up at the strongest man I have ever witnessed breaking down into tears. 

I do not want to kiss you in the hopes that we will be in the same place in another 365 days. My lips do not seek yours with the hopes that they’ll hold a promise of forever. They are looking for a place to rest after exhausting themselves with trying to express how the past year was only made possible by having a rock to rest my blistering feet and a pillow to hold my head when my eyes grew heavy. 

I want to kiss you at 1201 am, January first, with the hopes that I can find you again tomorrow. Forever’s never last, they slip through our fingers without us even realizing they were ever there. But, tomorrow will always come. The clock will tick, the days will pass, then sun will set and then rise again. The moon will change phases and the tides will always leave and return to kiss the sand.

I do not want you to be my forever, I want you to be my tomorrow. You are my measurement of time

—  An open letter #13

In here, the moon is always belly up, 
we are more wolf than our own skin
and I am letting a little too much of me out on the streets.

Loneliness howls tonight
and we are both hungry but

I don’t need you to love me.
I need you to stay where you are.

Stay gone.

—  astagesetforcatastrophe, do you hear this?
If two people are meant
To remain in each other’s lives
Whether as friends or lovers
Or something more difficult to define
The universe will find a way
To keep bringing them back together
And regardless of how much time has passed
Their twin heartbeats and mirrored fingertips
Will still find a home in one another
All of the pain and sadness will be forgiven
And they will continue as though
They were never apart at all
—  “Perpetual Motion” by Jessy Hudson

Dear fifteen year old me,

How you doing? Its been awhile. I’m here to let you know a few things, the main thing is; its going to get a lot worse. But then its going to get a lot better.

Don’t worry about that boy, in about two years he’s going to come around. You’ll fall into a love that will consume your soul. You’ll get hurt, and you’ll move on.

The man you’re going to fall for this year is not to be trusted. Use your gut. Be safe, he’s going to take advantage of your youth.

Hug your brothers. Play with them more
Try to understand them. They won’t be around much longer.

You’re going to hate mom, and spend hours locked away in your room.. That’s okay. Just, don’t take her lightly when she talks about moving, its going to happen and suddenly.

The rug that is your life is going to get ripped out from under your feet. You’re going to get really, really, really sad… This is going to cause you to drop out of school. I know, its dumb. But you’re gonna be okay. There’s going to be a time when you’re homeless, a few times actually.

You’re going to work at a place you love for years, save your money. I didn’t and I wish I did.

You’ll meet a girl who will transform everything you thought about friendships in one night. She is your soulmate and has been searching for you for years. Hold on tight.

People are going to surprise you, in terrible and amazing ways. You’re going to find love in a dingy bar, and when you’re least expecting it. Its going to be hard, and for a really long time. But come the 7th year, you’re going to be sitting in this spot realizing that you have overcome so much, and that you are worth more than you ever imagined.

You’re going to be okay. Trust me, I was once you.

—  An open letter #19
And just like that, you’ll fall – without trying to, of course. You will kiss her confused at first and then like holy lands, like too much earth for hand to hold, like silent, like loud, like familiar and foreign. And always, you will do this with mouth like never leaving at all. You will love her kind and love her gentle. You will make some good history out of this growing old together. You will make alive.
—  astagesetforcatastrophe, some good history
One of the worst parts of ending a relationship
Is mourning the loss
Of the expected future
Losing what you’ve had is bad enough
But losing what you hoped to have
Is sometimes even worse
Dozens of birthdays unnecessarily planned for
Apartments mentally decorated
And anniversaries that will never happen
I don’t know what I miss more
The memory of you
Or the idea of what we were supposed to have
—  “Seattle, WA - Las Vegas, NV - San Diego, CA” by Jessy Hudson

I cant find the words to describe what
Loving you felt like
It was lazy sunday mornings spent
Exploring each others bodies as
The sun rose and painted the room in its glow
It was Friday nights falling into bed,
To high or To in love to feel our faces
Sweaty and tangled in the sheets as
The music pounding in our veins drove us to Dance

It was winter nights spent in a fort ,
Watching movies and feeding each other pie
It was summer days spent
Sprinting through The forest
You nipping on my heels as I laughed
And claimed I was uncatchable

Loving you was mascara tracks down my face When I found
Her in your bed
It was Scrubbing myself raw
Because I could still feel you under my skin

It was loss and Betrayal,
It was Love and Contentment

In the end, I don’t have an alphabet big enough
To describe our love
I can only say, Loving you was like
Loving a Hurricane

Everyone loves the Rain
But when it rains it pours
And the flood washes everything away
You Destroyed everything I was
And just Left

—  Loving you was like loving a Hurricane–K.R(34/365)
Come here with all of your parts too soft for this world. Surrender your hell hurting, your soul set in wrong hands. I will be careful with it. I will gather your layers into something different, something like heaven and moonlight. I will quiver from loving you whole with all my smallness that even the tides will open up for us. Even the gods will call it holy.
—  astagesetforcatastrophe, gathering soft