i am no poet at all but i liked the idea of this

sometimes my mother tells me she loves me and i don’t want to say it back / i say it anyway. she taught me long ago that what i want is not as important as what other people need.

i am still trying to untangle that lie.

sometimes my father hugs me like i am all he has left in this world. i want nothing more than to leave. i stay because i carry his heart on my shoulders and my shoulders are already shaking. if i move it will fall.

i refuse to break hearts if i can help it / i cannot always help it.

yesterday i fell in love with an idea, with a floating cloud of dust / half-invisible / choking on air, on the particles of you.

tomorrow i will try to remind myself to look at the stars. i will forget to stare at the sky but this is fine / this is fine / i can find them in your eyes just as easy. next week i will try to remind myself to hold your hand. i will forget.

i am too busy staring at andromeda / the chained maiden. love never lasts and this is how i navigate home.

l.s. | HIRAETH © 2017

shadowhunters fluff/sitcom/everyone is happy universe episode 1: pet shop

jace wants to get a pet to therapeutically heal from the falcon story and the gang goes along for moral support

once confronted with all the pups and kits and adorable faces the gang is suddenly much more invested and investigate ‘for jace’

luke is kind of bummed at first bc he used to love animals but now that hes a werewolf animals are always scared of him. but he doesnt want to ruin everyone elses fun so he tries to stay out of trouble and drifts to the back where he finds a wall of reptiles. one thin green one seems to be looking right at him. ‘just like harry potter’ luke thinks, smiling to himself. it is just like harry potter, luke. he tentatively reaches into its cage and picks it up. it wriggles around in his hands contentedly and wraps itself around his wrist. its smooth cold skin is refreshing since luke usually runs pretty hot since the change. he turns around to show someone his new friend (hopefully simon since hes always been terrified of snakes) and sees magnus holding a 30 pound yellow python around his shoulders. ‘just like britney’ whispers luke. ‘JUST LIKE BRITNEY!’ cheers magnus.

izzy and alec, meanwhile, gravitate towards the kitties and puppies respectively. they playfully banter over the differences between cat and dog people, quickly becoming less casual and more competitive. they give each other a look. cut to 10 minutes later theyre giving their troops battle speeches before they send them down the racetracks and obstacle courses they made out of treat boxes, jimmy jabs style

clary and simon go with jace to look at the hamsters and mice and bunnies. jace, with at least 2 tiny soft little furballs in each hand and a tear in his eye: ‘theyre okay i guess.’ simon and clary politely ignore his sniffling, even when he uses a guinea pig’s fur to dry his tears. clary and simon are good friends. theyre all amusing themselves picking out animals that remind them of the rest of the gang when simon says ‘guys. uh.’ by some wacky twist of circumstance simon has managed to release every single rodent in the store. ‘we should tell someone’ simon says intelligently, eyes wide with worry. ‘NO WE SHOULDNT WE CAN HANDLE IT’ jace and clary whisper frantically, eyes wild with determination. as it turns out, they can not handle it. they can not handle it at all.

I think back to when you said that I would never find someone like you again. And I laugh. Today, you are an afterthought. A fringe idea. Two hands gripping a crumbling cliff. I don’t come to your rescue. I’ve stopped reaching for the picture of us smiling. It’s somewhere in a dump in Alabama. You only come up in conversation when someone says that they’re glad I’m doing better. My last meal was a full one. I’ve stopped losing sleep over you. Everything I was has only become better. I am collected in all the right places, I have all my pieces in play. No part of me is stagnant, no part of me is waiting to hear back from you. And if I ever stumble across a rainy day when maybe the prospect of being with someone is a warm one, the first person I think of is myself. You stop coming up altogether. If I ever have the displeasure of thinking of you, it comes up like something a cat would cough out. I don’t remember the last time a thought of you carried any meaning. I laugh because you had the pride to think that you were my everything. But how I see myself and my happiness will always be more than anything you had to offer.
—  When you move on and it actually feels great
We Like It Deep

My pillow smells like you do,
So I hold it closer and push my nose into its depths.
I need to memorize this sent,
I can’t let my self forget.
The way your nose feels on my neck
With all do respect.
I’ve been writing on my walls about you,
In washable marker.
Just in case they want to read our secrets
You are a secret you don’t want anyone else to know I’ve been trying to figure you out
But your the last to let it show
We have mastered the idea
of taking it slow but
The better for you
the less that I know.

Tell me what don’t I know?

- m.n

The sun is setting in blurred strokes of color
Like a watercolor painting right above our heads
And you hold my hand a little tighter
As the night grows darker
But the stars will shine at night-
They always do
And the sun will rise again-
It always does

The cool air has sharp edges
That cut as we walk
And sting our lungs with frozen air
But our arms can keep each other warm-
They always can
And summer will be here before we know it-
It always is

The past can plague our minds
And make us believe that it is all we are
But we have right now-
We always do
And you will feel okay again-
You always have

Although the future isn’t promised-
It never is
And life throws corkscrews in at unexpected angles-
It always does
I will be here-
I always am
And I hope you will be too

—  Always
Tell me I am made up of more than fears,
that when I run it is toward and not away from,
that these are nerves like
jagged wilderness, not electrocution.
I don’t want to be a victim,
a softness, a shatter.
An open wound.
Tell me how to pull the lion out of
my rib cage and set it free,
how to dig out all the bits of me
that still shake like unsettled teacups.
Tell me I’m not a tragedy,
not a comedy, not a lonely
too afraid to put her heart where
her mouth is.
If I bleed let it be from my own lips,
from the quake of standing the gained ground,
and swallowing the
knots and second guesses.
I don’t want to be what you see
when you think potentially.
Tell me, tell me, that I am already
who I’m supposed to be.
—  am kennedy, “you have so much potential”

i know you’re hurt. while i haven’t felt it as strongly or as long as you have, i know what it feels like when someone you love doesn’t want you anymore. you were there.

i remember my dad telling me that it’s like having all your organs rearranged. he is right.

and the difference between us is that i’ve sewed all my organs back into place, and the ones i couldn’t i nurtured and allowed to stay there.
i think you’re still trying to remember where yours went before us.

i am mad. mad that you’ve put me through post breakup drama for the past two years, made me struggle with the realization that you’re still in love with the idea of who i was when you left me two years ago.
but i know what that pain is like, when someone doesn’t love you.

and that’s why i can’t tell you i’m doing this for you. because i want you to stop hurting.
because i know that i love you enough as a person that i will let you in again and the cycle will start anew. my kindness, or perhaps selfishness, will hold you back from ever healing.

i want you to be truly happy. and i can’t be a part of that right now.

—  talk soon (a note for my ex)

I admit it, you were everything to me. You were. My world revolved around you and I didn’t realise how much you have affected my life. All the despicable things you have done, I still cannot forget but I will always forgive you no matter what it was that you did because that’s how much I loved you . I loved you so much and for so long, I don’t know how to let go of you.

I thought that  I was fine, but I am not. It’s so hard to go to sleep at night when all it comes back running to me, where I do not want it at all.

I still see you around, everywhere I go, everywhere I turn.
I want to avoid it all, but sadly I cannot. I can easily erase you from my mind but in real life you are always there, when I do not want you. I am finished with all of you, but my mind cannot seem to let go the idea of you.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an independent person. But I quite like the idea of waking up in the middle of the night with your arm wrapped around me. Not protecting me, just holding me.

And when I can’t sleep, I get to admire you. I can hold my breath until our heart beats are in sync or maybe I can kiss the scar above your lip. I can count the freckles on your arms like I am an astronomer and your freckles are all of the stars in the sky. I can guess where your dreams are taking you by analyzing the crooked smile on your face.

And when I do fall asleep, I will dream about you, the last thing my eyes saw before I gave in to the exhaustion.

And when I wake up, the first thing I will see is you. Maybe you will still be sleeping soundly holding onto me, or maybe I will catch you admiring me, too.

—  Leigh, day 304
do not disturb

stretched out blearily on
a couch, in a cable sweater
with a coffee I will not drink
I pose; a ballerina at the barre,
pretending not to know
I am his idea of art.
I am stifled with a beauty I view
as mere interruption of thought—
I’m just petals, lace, and body parts.

and with pale blue eyes
crumpling in his face like rejected ideas,
he evaluates my lanky frame
looking for cues; a course of action:
will he, or won’t he, go for
my throat? is that what we want?
—but I give no answer.
it is, with certainty,
the wrongest of times
to importune this dancer.

while you sleep
I pace holes into the floorboards
of my bedroom,
I bore gaping wounds into the walls
with my silence.

I ask my head why it rejects these ideas of
why when things seem to go right,
all I am left with is small reminders
of how much of me is wrong.

and I’ve tried for years
to hug and repair all the seams
that unravel at everyone’s touch.

there are so many parts of me that wish I was
more for you;
less broken,
less tired,
less like I am starved for affection.

I hope some day I learn to love all the cracks
and scars that people have left behind,
small keepsakes from those who had
too much fire at their fingertips.

I do not mourn for all that I am,
but rather all that I am not
and my dear sweet love,
the one who kisses my neck
and traces the fissures on my hips,
I am tired of poking at the dark places
in my soul,
hoping that the rips could bring in some light.

you are grace and goodness,
kindness and stability,
and I am so so sorry that I am as fragile 
as the mere idea of acceptance.

I am afraid I will never be good enough for you,
and that I will murder something beautiful inside you,
but most of all,
I am afraid one day you’ll look at me and realize,
there is nothing within me worth 
staying for.

—  I’m sorry I feel this way

before i get started, play this playlist if you can.

okay, so whenever i think about the flying desk set scene, i have this feeling of dread by the time it’s Todd’s 18th birthday and he gets another desk set  again among his gifts.

what then? he’d probably just stare at it for a moment, and then take it to the walkway from last year, teary-eyed.

he’d throw it full force, with all these pent-up emotions. Then he’d just slump on the ground, tearing up from all the memories, knowing that Neil isn’t going to come around just like last year

and to make matters worse imagine Neil watching the whole thing and not being able to help Todd and yeah. like what i said before; that dreadful feeling whenever i think of the flying desk set scene, because they have no idea.

My body
takes up twice as much space
as my ideas
It is an entire page
with a single spindly line
of second rate poetry
scribbled across the top
like a question
it is vast and blank and
a waste
I do not deserve half the room I am given
to simply exist
without adding anything of substance
to this glowing growing world
I occupy so ungratefully
and I have abandoned any hope
of filling up this endless canvas
           after all it is always easier
           to shrink
           this is not a new concept
           never has been
           I simply hope I can manage
           to condense
          without withering
—  A.O.A.M. || I Am a Gas Giant in a Universe of Stars
The Oh So “impenetrable” Wall

This impenetrable wall 

Recognizing the foundation lies low

Even when I thought things were good,

That things were moving in the right direction


At least that it was moving

This wall haunts me

This wall sends harsh blows

But all of a sudden like a “clap on clap off” 

Everything is exposed

For what it really is

Foundation of this seemingly impenetrable wall 

Is made of fear,

Is made of doubt, 

Is made of insecurities


Has it always been this way?

This wall that seems to knock me down each and every time

Exists through MY OWN fear, doubt, and insecurities


*stares at wall*

You gotta go

It was my own back that burdened all those fallen ideas

It was my own back that I weighed down with the disbelief in myself



I am the wall

I am the one who sinks within my own fear

But I also possess a light of greatness, love, and power


Now what?

Keep myself down

Or keep out the way?

Officially today

I’ve decided

That this oh so impenetrable wall that lays low in darkness

MUST fall today, within this illuminating energy that lies 

Within me

Today and from now on, I choose!

I choose to be free rather than to be poised in fear.

If we’re meant to be then why aren’t we?”
He looked at me with pain In his clouded eyes. Sometimes you have to hurt to be free. To burn. Because we speak a different language now, but how do I say that to him?
“I am a fire. I need to burn. We’re opposites. With your ocean eyes and icy touch…I can’t”
“Why must the one who loves more always be me? You speak all this poetry crap and I…I’m turning into a monster in love with you!”. I want to say you’re not a monster; monsters don’t look like you but then again not all monsters are ugly.
“If loving me makes you a monster then what am I?
—  v.m//excerpts #3
I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing or where the fuck I’m going. I think I felt more alive when I wanted to die.. Now? Now I can’t care. I’m so numb. I’m so numb.. I’m so numb.. I can’t cry. I can’t genuinely smile. I can’t write. Who am I? Where am I? And better yet..
Why does any of it even matter?
I’d rather feel like I’m dying on the inside then not feel anything at all.. I’m so lost in nothingness and I’m not sure I’ll ever be found.
—  Andy.. Come back.

this has been more vengeful,
than I would have liked

it is as though I am a veteran,
waiting in a hospital,
after I gave a leg,
but I have given nothing close

long overdue a genuine smile,
wrong overused medicine while,
we all deserve an acting award,
tracking a worth word,
what can you afford?

my story is a platter before you,
were you enticed to eat?

an old textured green chair,
next to snack machines with flickering lights,
1.25, son plenty of lives have passed through these halls,
will I be more recognized from a small pond
unfit for yachts from Harvard?
targeted larva, who all has written,
am I any different?
all ideas are recycled,
not all are backed,
when I’m done fade to black

a publicity stunt,
done as though life depended on it
don’t you feel my emotion?
I’m writing to fill all of the books of Alexandria,
I’m writing like I’ll get shot,
by a crazed fan tomorrow,
despite the fact I have no readers,
all ideas are recycled,
not all ideas are backed,
when I’m done, fade to black

a desk chair, alone upstairs,
and the pen glides,
an orange chair of plastic,
in a community college,
don’t you feel my words?
tapping keys,
but I’m not maverick,
black and white,
sodden from the rain

my obituary will read:
through the droning sermons,
through the self applied tourniquet,
through the loss of drive,
through the addictions thrive,
through the trip to Phoenix,
through these latent statements,
I didn’t mean it.

Josh Gaydos 2016
I’m a Sellout

the fuck is wrong with me
for unloading all my sins
on the girl who barely got to be
here a weekend, shit my skin’s
been eager to show
a decade or more
but no one can know
the pity whore
i am at heart,
weakness i hide behind shitty art
and vain poems about how i’m
deep cause i can rhyme,
shit close the fucking thesaurus
for once and get the rust
off your mind,
i said i was the kind
to stay up all night
so i can write
something to prove
i can love but my fingers move
when my life can’t
cause pretty lines plant
this idea that i’m an artist
but the hardest
part is being one
when my fingers are done,
when i keep talking as the pages end
because there’s so much forgotten i haven’t penned
but i keep trying and digging
into all the sins i’m living,
all the awful shit i do
and know i’ll continue to,
things i can’t say
and keep putting off to write about another day -
like the simple truth is strange
and i’m afraid things would change
if you knew
i love you

i am now alive in ways beyond its own definition due to the fact that you emanate a sense of love i’ve accounted as by far the most fervid love i have yet to understand. 

how selfless of you to have clipped your wings, leaving feathers like rose petals beneath you, to be with me. to collect the idea of being more pleasant than flight itself is all the more reason to maintain the integrity of my being, my life.

for someone who toyed with death and found enamor in the idea of ending what seemed to be an endless misery, i sure am walking rightly, poised, with life and spirit.

- pieces of me, for you, at 4am

I find it funny how we love like people are promises. Like darling I have no idea how far we will get in our future together but I am ready to trust you will all my life and walk down this road with you. Like statistics say we don’t have a shot and even if we get married chances are we will also get divorced but we still try. Still throw our hearts on the line. Still trade commitments like collectibles, putting each other’s words on shelves like prized possessions. We know better than to talk to strangers but relative to the time we’ve known each other and the time that exists in the rest of our lives, I guess you can say we are prone to loving people we don’t know. We exchange ‘I love you’s’ and 'forevers’ and we build castles on clouds and take each other down this tightrope like falling isn’t an option. I find it funny how we are so sure that we aren’t afraid of uncertainty. I think that’s the best proof of faith we have in this world. Because above all else, above all reasoning, above all sense, I am choosing to hand my heart over to you.
—  Love literally makes no sense