my poet and me

for my mother; (mini poems)
— 

i see a heroine with frizzed hair
sitting at the table with weary eyes
you have endured heartache and pain
since you took your first step
i wish to wash away your storm clouds
hovering over you
and let you rest your calloused feet


you have taught me to be stronger than steel
but soft and gentle like winter’s first snow;
louder than the average person’s brain
but respectfully quiet in the presence of others;
sorrowful like the weeping willows back home
but brave enough to try again tomorrow;


i see a beautiful woman struggling to make ends meet
trembling hands and quivering eyes in mid-breakdown
alone in her room to hide her weaknesses –
she cleans up nicely after a catastrophe but the scars
remain on her heart (band-aids never held her together) –
but she always makes do with materials on hand and tries
so hard to be the perfect mother (if only she could see
that her efforts are never forgotten or wasted on us)


she has been the diamonds in our empty black skies;
the love in our bleeding wounds; the staples in our
broken hearts; a hand to hold and shoulder to lean on;
the mistake fixer for every fault we’ve committed; a mother
worth every ounce of gold–

give me haunting silence, a deathly quiet, a blanket of stillness broken only by the sticky creak of my feet breaking kiss after kiss with the floor. give me copious darkness, silken shadows to chase me around the chamber as my eyes glaze over. i slip into a trance, repeat my ritual like a ghost caught between the stars, wavering through dimensions, weaving in and out of worlds.

i am not a girl like you. i am like nothing you’ve ever known. there are secret realms within me dying even now, and some yet to be born.

—  stars within me
youtube

endless love by me :)

You wanted me all to yourself. You wanted to own me. When I tried to live my life, you tightened your chokehold on it. Living for anyone but you was wrong. Trying to please anyone but you was wrong. So I didn’t, I tried to be right according to what you wanted. I told you where I was going and if you didn’t want me going I didn’t go. Out of fear, I poured all of my love into you until I was empty. When I had nothing left to pour, I carved out the insides of my heart to satisfy you. I gave you all of me, yet always felt like I was never enough. I was a helpless bird that knew about life outside of the cage but was taught not to want it. I was taught that it was wrong, but in the end, it wasn’t wrong. You were.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Request: A girl breaks up with her girlfriend due to being isolated by the relationship and fear from saying/doing something—anything “wrong” such as hanging out with a friend or forgetting to tell them they’re going to a store. And the feeling of never being enough and feeling helpless/hopeless.
When i was younger my therapist told me that i had avoidance issues. Maybe that’s why i keep avoiding the fact that you stumble home every night smelling like whiskey, cheap perfume and lipstick stains your collar. Perhaps that’s why i wash out the lipstick, put you in the shower and tuck you into bed. All so i get to feel alive when i hold your hand because I don’t want to face not having it there to hold
—  L.S.
think of me, your idol

stephanie w.
oppose me, you wane
that in night’s shifting idol
acidic words, silent engorge
that melted soon
light’s dangers
 
calmly, a stutter brings
all glory to art’s flow
believed but breathless, more
 
soft and a mired song;
eyes widely shut beyond
all hell, whispering free
arisen cradle’s twilight
 
and would I bleed, for thee…
defying every welt
 
that burns, ferocious,
in His sight –
dark yet abounding,
mirror

Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.

to the quiet ones
who are afraid
of the sound
of their voices:
write
and your words
will scream from the page


(and you will be heard).

—  to the quiet ones by shelby leigh
The worst crying is when you’re lying in bed, with your hand over your mouth so you don’t make noise. The tears are running onto your pillow and your heart’s breaking and you’re thinking of everything that made you cry, and your other hand is on your heart or stomach because they both hurt.
—  (via sturzpoesie IG)
that’s what people do
they move on
they don’t stay at the
exact same place like
i do and i know i
should get the fuck up
i know. trust me i do.
but i cannot stop crying.
—  ck.writes (on Instagram)
The Thing About Trauma

It’s not as easy
as being Something That Happened to You,
a package you opened once.

You will wake up in a new ZIP code,
have to wander your way home,
carry a few of the things you love
to this new place
you live in now.

& so you buy throw pillows.
You put up twinkle lights
and have a big celebration,
point at the open windows
and tell everyone who has ever seen you crying,

look,

look how I have not caged myself,
look what I have made
out of two paint buckets
and the blessing of my still-here body,

but, of course, trauma leans into the bar cart.
Spills a drink on the new rug.
Breaks off the door handle on his way out.

Trauma sends you letters,
without warning,
for the rest of your life,
usually disguised as something else— 

a medical bill, maybe,
or a box of photo albums packaged up by your father,
just so you remember
trauma knows exactly where you live—

who did you think built the house?

You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.

no matter what I
am always disappointed
and it scares me that


I have lived for so
long and I have not yet found
what makes me happy.

—  by shelby leigh
Acknowledge it.
In order to move on you need to acknowledge it or it may as well eat you alive.
Pushing it aside isn’t moving on.
You need to let yourself hurt, ache, scream in pain.
Punch the wall at 3 am and watch the blood fall from the bruises on your skin and realize you’re alive, yell at your neighbors for being annoyed by the noise, screw them for trying to stop you from reaching the peace you long for so badly.
Eat pizza and ice-cream until your stomach grows sick and now you can focus on another pain other than the one on your chest.
Isolate yourself from the world for as long as you need, drink, smoke, have nightmares.
Allow yourself to be immersed on a pit of self pity because you deserve it.
You deserve to feel pity for yourself because you were hurt and are still hurting.
Immerse yourself so you can fix yourself.
It doesn’t matter how long it takes.
Then rise from that pit and don’t look back.
Start doing the things you’ve always wanted to do and don’t feel bad for focusing on the one person that was and will always matter the most, yourself.
Acknowledge the pain but don’t let it get you down anymore for you are not the person you were 15 minutes ago, imagine 4 months ago.
Allow your heart to look for somebody else because sometimes the only way is to find someone that truly deserves all you have to offer.
Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, it means letting go of something that no longer serves and deserves you.
—  This how to move on (kind of) - Mariana Teles Fernandes
I miss her man, I miss her so much. But how the hell do I tell her that?”, my friend asked me once. It might have been the stupidest question I had ever heard because the answer was so obvious. “You do not tell her, you show her. Show her that you care and show her that her presence makes your day better.
—  It is so easy to say things but taking actions is the hardest part. // ck.writes
Before, I used to give away a part of my heart away to the world without hoping or wanting anything in return. Until the universe decided to give me you. The you who digs your entire heart out for my not so wholesome heart. The you who is willing to give me your entire world even when I am in pieces. The you who love me through my cracks.
—  Lukas W. // Through my cracks

i’m in my prime,
not withering and old.
but i refuse to play
your wicked games any longer.

i know this tether is unbreakable,
but you make me feel like i’m interchangeable.
you drew a target on my heart,
when did this become fatal attraction?

i don’t have the strength,
the energy,
nor the patience
to be held hostage by your love.

so baby please don’t despair
when i say that
i’ve found the courage to
let you go.

you were never meant to be tied down in the first place.

—  believing i could love you was my mistake, c.j.n.

and though you hurt me
I cannot regret being yours
for a time
because you’ve helped me realize
I deserve so much more


(so I thank you).

—  by Shelby Leigh