So last night
I whispered all of your dreams unprompted
I saw your jaw drop but I tried to conspicuously not pay attention;
I just liberated you from from a bar of twenty men all drooling
I fend them off and kept two of you entertained with only one of me
and the dreams of my dreamy elusive brother coworker or friend
I paid a lot of attention to the needs and dreams of your cute companion
But if I'm honest
even though I was making sure she was safe
cause that's what i do
I was looking at you and dreaming
I was staring straight into your eyes
looking straight into your soul
I don't have much of almost anything
but I can look deep down and see true
most people really don't believe it
and i don't blame them, why would you?
But there was a moment there
In the garage while we were talking
when you were looking at me
like you loved me
more than anything
that had ever come or gone
and it was the briefest of moments
but i fucking swear i saw it
and it made me love you
with you dirty blond hair
and all of your compassionate let's just take care of my friend care
I mean, yes
Like i heard you
you have a boyfriend
you say it like it's means something
to someone like me
....who's only ever always confronted with adversity
I have a back burner
and all of your friends
and it's not like
im saying anything
a little bit
and surprisingly so
a lack of interest
in anything intelligent or courageous
it's like the human race took 5
and was all over it
can't ever really quite describe
what I'm looking for
what lights up the fire
what stokes the soul
behind my eyes
cause i'm a believer
and i believe most true
and i think im feeling something
maybe i love you
...I remember who talked to me all night about everything
about significant things great and small
tiny odd reccolecctions
everything her things my things your things all things fuck pretty much everything
That I answered or said without saying as things that are true
I might have lied
Because you started talking like my dreams...
I covered every base what the fuck do you want me to do?
You were so fucking cool
I think I met your friend
Only to meet you
or your boyfriend...
fuck i seriously hope that one ain't true but like I'm a buhhdist now and can't say
It's like you have never met a man who see's the future
A gingerbread man baked and burned in the oven for fun
Who got tortured for years into a smile that we all love
It's like we all take things so seriously instead of laughing and drinking
and hearing the endearing lunacy of our friends
fuck if we just took a minute to wait and pretend to understand all of that darkness we let lurk in
it would be like a circus show of light delivering all of us from the three ring thing of everything
that is bad
our own macabre circus of rejection, judgement, and humiliation for all of our kind. So when you are done with your boyfriend, fiance, husband, i know not yet; talk to me first before every voyage and adventure set in opposition just for the fuck of it.
but what you can't count on
is that i'm so much older and I've been around
I don't think you might know what it is like
to double down
over years and years
it's like you get a discount
on the odds
for multiples of five years
cause who really lasts that long?
but who knows
cause life is like a lotto tarot hurricane
no sense to distribute the sad recompense
let's just fucking spend it before we pay
on all the debts we just made
and all of the futures that greyed out just fade(ed)
that's the point of grey vistas
all the deals and the souls we just promised in casual relation to make it
We try to pretend
we're all samurai
noble sacrafice to budo
it's cool that i alone must die
but i think we all smell some bullshit
in the way and the feel of this philosophy
that tells us to fight it instead of accept it
so let's beware those wayward philosophies
that perhaps might be misguided
telling us that nothing matters
as opposed to those that tell us
to simply love
all of those that surround us
And I saw her put her name into facebook on my phone
but when it was all said and done and i unlocked it all
it was gone
If i hadn't been dealing with this for almost twenty years; i think i'd cry like a little girl.
Also, I hold RRR entirely responsible for encouraging unedited writing. Be careful what you wish for ;-)
You don't know how I'm feeling.
So why do you look at me like you
Can feel what I am going through ?
I walked alone all my life asking
Myself Why ?
I have yet to vocalize my desire deep
Can you see it in my eyes? I hold all
My pains within ; Know love had I ever
Known , and know place I could ever
Call home ,
I tremble when I'm near love you see
What does love have with me ?
Heat travels up my thighs in the deep
Heated up wind that blows on me
Day's within ,
I have been a lost child all my life ; With
Out a father and mother by my side telling
Me I will be alright !
I want you Jehovah with an urgency to hear
My cry's that I just can't describe.
I reach out to touch you with a heart of truth ,
How much I want and need you ?
Can you see it in my eyes? Can you see I can
Know longer go on with my life with out you
In it ? I long to say, "I love you,"
But am scared of your reply , Terrified like a child
Of long ago , Living a life with an empty soul;
I've become paralyzed within with out a father or
Mother to hold , They left all alone .
The camouflaged emotions that came to me like rain ;
My heart was holding so much pain of heartbreaks of the past;
The pains of silent cries in the rain of a child that no one wanted
To clam ; All my sad lonely nights I had cried like I wanted to
I would gases about my life ,always asking why is my life thise way ?
And yet I just can't tell a soul the right way to go ,
Don't you see it in my eyes? I am lost a lost sheep needing you to
Love me ''Please !
Confessing and don't know what to do ,
So I write a poem of thoughts and truth of all my dilemma summarized
To you , Then I head a voice with love and said to me come home You
Had been lost long time ago , But know I have you to hold .
He once said that he did not feel anything until it had a name.
It was invalid, inexistent. I decided that the worst thing about me is not
that I want to kill myself but that I cannot kill
everyone who has ever ruined a piece of me. Their numbers
are still in my phone in case I need to call and apologize for nothing,
in case they still want me and I can cry when I turn them down.
I let people hate me more than I let people love me,
I need men more than I want them. My sexuality is fictional, he’d say
because there is not a name for what I do to everyone I touch.
There are only their names polluting my heart.
I let people hate me, I let them keep me dying more than living.
I tend to go through life
friends want to hang out with me
but I always find an excuse
I started blocking out the world
when society banished me
because what I am is not
what they expect of me
I never know what's going on
because at least then I'm not missing out
on everything I could have in the world
as long as I go without
I refuse to change the way I feel
for a standard set by society
you'll never understand my struggle
so please just let me be
In seventh grade
I fell and I broke my leg
To my surprise it didn't hurt at all
I only felt awkward and a bit dazed
Because you slapped me to top it all
That was your way to show concern
You called me stupid and clumsy
Your words struck me with dismay
They left a painful scar on my heart
Years later I feel the same pain today
My leg healed fast
Few weeks in a cast and it was good as new
But the lack of motherly love still brings pain
And I think I walk very carefully around you
Cautious not to fall again
I don't even know what love is
but I think I feel it
and only you
So I have to guess
love is smiling when
your name lights up on my phone
Love must be
a warm embrace with you
a tender kiss with you
hearing you say my name
my arms around you
your head on my chest
my fingers in your hair
all the things I adore about you
that's what I think love is
I used to listen to adele
When my heart was breaking
Now I wish I hadn't
Because everytime I listen to her
I remember it all
I used to tex you everyday
When my heart was breaking
You said we were still friends
I didn't feel this friends thing
When I knew you chose her
I sorted out my head
Your working nights tonight
Why do you still think of me
When the moon is full and shining
I havnt texed you for weeks
Why are you texing me
When your heart belongs to her
It makes me feel like listening to adele
But I don't want to go there right now
I don't even feel like texing you back
I guess ill turn up the volumne on poets of the fall
They always bring me back to myself
When the heartache
To take over
"You are beautiful."
That is what they say,
and you reply,
"Thanks, you too."
A compliment, received and courteously relayed.
But what is really meant by this statement?
"You are beautiful."
Implies the speaker has identified that you exist—nothing out of the ordinary, but important nonetheless.
"You are beautiful."
Implies something much more—that the speaker not only acknowledges you, but understands you. It implies they have access to the real you, the one beneath the surface, and that they are capable of evaluating it. Notice that "You look beautiful." is not what has been said. No, what has been said is much more than that.
"You are beautiful."
This is their evaluation. Through the lens of their own perception, what they see when they observe who you are is best described by the word "beautiful". From my perspective, this can only be taken as a sign of deep appreciation, of recognition from one soul to another that on some level, they share the same substance.
Yet, knowing all of this raises a great suspicion. Do those who make this statement truly understand what they are saying? Do they mean it? Did they mean to say, instead, "You look beautiful."? Did they even mean anything at all? Did they give this compliment for the mere sake of giving it, or did they give it with the expectation of receiving something in return?
Do they know of the tension behind your smile? Do they know of the fear residing in the dark pools of your eyes? Do they know that the way you present yourself is often done in spite of how you truly feel?
Do they know, deeper still, of the tiny, yet unwavering flame that burns inside of you? Do they know that underneath the layers of frost that guard your soul is a core of warmth that craves release? Do they know that deep down, you don't believe the horrible things you tell yourself—you can't believe them—, but that it's much easier to pretend otherwise? Do they know that you numb yourself to escape unrelenting pain, often at the cost of escaping joy?
When they say you are beautiful, is it this you they speak of, or is it the you they see but do not understand?
Does their statement stand against who you are by trying to convince you of a self-image you do not have? Does it attempt to ignore, and by ignoring, negate the fact that you possess flaws, insecurities, and imperfections? Does it try desperately to project an image of perfection upon you, as if to acknowledge the truth would be too difficult?
Do they really think you are beautiful, or do they merely want to think it, blindly and without commitment?
Of the answers to those questions I am not certain. But, if I were one of those speakers who dared to make such a bold statement, I would be very careful. For if they are not truly ready to admit with full honesty that they understand exactly the meaning of what they are saying, then they do not deserve to say it.
And if they do not deserve to say it, then they ought to be careful of another thing, too. For if their compliment is not genuine, then the response they receive in return might not be genuine, either.
"Thanks. You, too."
I am beautiful, you say?
Thanks. You, too.
Please justify your actions.
Give me some reason, and make it a good one, for what you did.
Did you just feign happiness?
Did you feed me lies that you knew would go straight from my ears to my heart,
Skipping over my head entirely?
What purpose did you have?
And why, now that it's all over, do you insist upon making me feel like the villain?
You refuse to look at me, like I'm Medusa ready to turn you to stone.
But the only look you'll see on my face is a hurt confusion.
The anger went away quickly, and now there's this utterly perplexing hole left behind,
Because I still don't know why.
I know you were happy.
I know you genuinely cared about me, and us.
So what happened?
What broke in your mind, making you run away without so much as a backwards glance ?
Nothing changed until you decided it should.
So give me just one reason, and make it a good one.
My feet are long
Long enough to be considered big
Both my big toenails are ingrown
and none of my shoes fit right
On my right leg I have 38 scars
Some of them are so faint
They are almost gone
38 and even though I put every single of them there
not a single one
is my fault
On my left leg I have no scars at all
A blank slate
Marred only by a small
it wasn’t meant to be a literary device
My belly is a minefield of pimples and hair and scars and scars and scars
the beautiful thing sticks out farther than my face
it’s large enough to be considered fat
and none of my shirts fit right
Sometimes I feel bad for my breasts
Always squished under the same two bras
if i flip them around that means they’re not dirty anymore
My fingers are bony and thin
People recoil when they see them
They don’t bend the right way
And it hurts to hold a pencil
Maybe they’re ingrown too
My arms are
only one scar worth mentioning
and only worth mentioning
because it was the first one i put on myself
My neck is sensitive
and always sore
it sends a shooting pain down my spine
and i cradle it and ask
My face is bright
even if my eyes are dull
big and dull and blue with long lashes
too fucking feminine
i try not to make a 39th
its not my fault
i am beautiful
but beauty belongs to women