I lost potential love, that is to say, I lost you. And like anyone would when they lose something important, they go searching. So I went searching for love. I thought I found it in the flings I had, but it would be fleeting. A spark, but nothing like the fire you lit in me. So I kept trying, thinking that love hid in the spaces in between fingers, in mouths that just wanted to taste mine. I was wrong. Love came from the same place it was always supposed to come from, within me. What a waste of time this search has been. I wish I could recycle it, use it for a better cause, but I can’t. I guess it’s okay, though. I know now what to do with the rest.
—  Love yourself. // Maxwell Diawuoh, Request: A poem about having thought to have found love, only for it to end in heartbreak and constantly go from fling to fling, hoping to find love again before realizing true love comes from within and that’s the only reason OP can’t truly be happy.
You never did anything in this world but to search for somebody to save you from falling. Like a trampoline that will catch you when you jumped to the endless void; like a light at the end of the tunnel that will save you from the dark. All you did is search and wait for someone to hold your hands and complete the spaces in between your fingers—as if they can save you from your fear of nothingness. All you did is find, and find, and find without realizing that you won’t fall if you wouldn’t jump; that the light at the end of the tunnel is nothing if you brought your own fire; that your fingers complete the spaces in between when you stick them all together. You always think there is someone out there who will save you with his swords and strong arms, but newsflash: you, too, can save yourself.

I am a deadly garden 
where my veins bleed poison
and my bones ache from 
not being understood.
My thoughts sink into my skin
like teeth,
chewing me up
until there is nothing left to feel;
I want to rip them out of me 
and lay them to rest 
in the palms of your hands 
as if my mind is a collection 
of lifeless flowers
and my tears alone 
aren’t enough for them to grow into 
something that you would love

Perhaps I’m Not Worth Knowing At All // h.w

anonymous asked:

Hey Serra, what do u think of trans boy!Harry being raised by trans!Remus and nonbinary!Sirius? Bc I like that idea a LOT. Like... Remus would know so many spells or potions to help with transitioning or passing at least, and ok tbh Sirius being nb is sorta self indulgent (lil nb bean here hi) but I rlly like that idea? Idk. What's your thoughts?

I love it! I personally really like trans Remus and genderfluid Sirius, but i’m open to all interpretations of them. It just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside for little Harry to have people in his corner who love and accept him unconditionally as he discovers his gender identity. They’d be able to understand and help him in ways not all caregivers can, and i’m sure Harry would appreciate that a lot. :)

And somehow I’m expected to condense all of this emotion into a night. My love is taking a one-night stand and I’m hoping you’ll understand that this isn’t a recent development. This is years in the making, this is years full of aching, this is years of wanting you so bad it’s heartbreaking. When I tell you that I love you, there’s weight behind that. A lot of sand in my life’s hourglass has gone towards the thought of you. So please, even if it’s just for tonight, don’t take this lightly.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Request: “Loving your friend for years and getting one night to love them.”
Long Distance

If hands
could reach
right through
this screen

I’d rest
your head
my knees

I’d stroke
your hair
‘til you

That we’ll
our hopes
and dreams

This year
like those
now too
shall pass

And though
at times
it won’t
be fast

We’ll close
the distance
our words

Which now
the world
will all
have heard


If hands
that write
could bring
you close

I’d write
to bear
us both

I’d write
until my

You must
you’re all
I need

// A.S
i catch your eye
and smile once more.
i think i see you smile back,
just for a moment.
this must be
what happiness feels like.
—  poeticallyordinary, this must be what happiness feels like.
My love for you doesn’t know any bounds. Some days it flows calmly, other days it’s a flood. You’ve never questioned it, just loved me back with as much if not more intensity. It’s a beautiful thing that we’ve found here, so I can’t understand why your parents are fighting it. You look at me like I make the sun rise. You smile when you say my name like it’s a privilege to be able to say it out loud. There’s just something about this connection that seems stronger than anything else I’ll ever feel. I wish they’d see me like you seem to - like I’m something worth taking risks for. I just want them to accept me. I just want to be with you for real.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Request: Two young people in love but they cannot be together yet due to one’s parents being un-accepting, but they still want to be in each other’s lives and still love one another and know they’re each other’s soulmate.
i suppose,
if i had observed the outside,
i’d have found our restless hours
filled to the brim
with empty promises
and pseudo-innocence,
a peace
i can no longer fathom.
i am what is left behind.
a body.
autumn, unrecognizable,
woven with strings
of fairy lights,
i blink in and out of reality;
no longer part of a world,
but a history, a maybe,
a story.
—  poeticallyordinary, if memories fade, do they become fairytales?
People fear someone falling out of love with them, but no one usually questions what it’s like to be the one falling out. They can’t picture feeling that something must be horribly wrong with you because there’s no other plausible explanation for why your heart doesn’t flutter when you look at him like it used to. It was the position I never thought I would find myself in, yet here I was, looking at the man I supposedly loved and not feeling a thing. If there was anything there, it was negative. Annoyance, anger, sadness, the complete opposite of everything he used to make me feel. It wasn’t right to let him believe things were okay, so I told him. Watching his facial expression drift from a quiet seriousness into a brokenness I never thought I would cause, I wished I didn’t mean the words I said but I knew I did. I couldn’t keep running away, after all, where could I go when the person that used to feel like home no longer did?
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Request: Telling the guy you love that you’re falling out of love for the same reason you fell in love with him.
Love me like love is more than just a word. Make it action, make it choice, make it commitment. Don’t try to be perfect. Don’t try to love me perfectly because you are not perfect and neither am I, some days we will crash and burn but it’s whether or not we escape from the wreckage that matters. So when we have those arguments that make peace seem like a distant memory, take the time you need to cool off but make sure you come back.
Motivate me. I’ve always been quite the dreamer, but some days the world gets the best of me. My body keeps moving but everything else feels dead, and everything including you feels further away than it should be. When that happens, pull me close. Tell me that you’re here, tell me that there’s more to live for, call it soul to soul resuscitation. Bring me back to you.
Don’t give up on understanding me. I know that on most days my mind is more like a really messy bedroom and finding sense in all of the chaos may prove to be difficult but please, don’t stop trying. Keep talking, keep asking questions, refuse to get tired. See, I know a lot of words. I know temporary. I know brief, short-lived, fleeting. I don’t quite get the word stay. It tastes weird on my tongue, probably because I’m more used to people doing the opposite. I guess that’s why I’m always prepared to write goodbye poems, and why I’ll be expecting you to leave once you see the person behind all of this poetry. Please, don’t go. Prove me wrong. Stay.
—  How I desire to be loved. // Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (362/366)