Don’t be blinded by your eyes
In life it’s not all about the things you see
but about the things you feel.

Shell✨🐚

For letting go of me,
I got time to reflect and find myself.
28/11/2021

And when we run out of things to talk about,
may our souls still be fond of each other
as we sit comfortably in silence.

Did he have to leave?
could he not have stayed?

But he decided
to leave, no matter
of the cost to her,
with no last letter
of sincere farewell,
just him leaving her
and not coming back,
that stab in the back,
that leaving alone,
that isolation
with the cold winter
approaching, in dark
December, and snow
coming from the North.

She did not suspect
him having someone
else to have or love,
someone else in mind.

It didn't make sense
to her ordered mind;
it disturbed her plans,
the furniture in
her mental state was
in sad disarray,
just by him leaving,
and in such a way.

kissed a thousand pretty sunsets,

just to float to the ground.

my heart's not the same,

when your voice isn't around.

now i can't recall it's sound,

you could appear like a magician,

on these apartment steps i adore,

cause your feet touched their floor.

but now im collapsing on mine,

like confetti to a blind.

maybe the moon will catch my eye.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

I don't feel special,
I'm not unique.
I want to cry
but I can't even speak.
My hands reach out,
but they cannot hold
a single thing
but the bitter cold.
Everything's frozen,
I feel lost.
Even my tears
have turned to frost.
When I cut my waist
it bleeds black.
I'm so deeply gone
there's no way back.
This is goodbye

All I know
Is how
I feel

And sometimes I
Wish I
Knew nothing

There will be others
after you.

But
none are
as you are
to me.

i can't quit this
nostalgic nicotine
yearn for laced fingers
face lingers
my eyes are appalled
              but
my mind is resolved
to absolve you

let the pages grow longer
love a little softer
unwind with intention
peel back dimensions
there i am

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Peace is easily found
under the mango trees:
softly push from the ground,
swing to the gentle breeze,
smell the blooms – every kind,
hear the rustle of leaves...
Heals, the beauty around –
under the mango trees.

Sleep in between lips,
only for a kiss,
we both admit and submit,
to ignorance being bliss.

Hands on hips,
holding onto parts I miss,
under Christmas lights,
in New year's eve,
you're my resolution's gift.

A star above my head,
a lonely child's wish,
only a Lord could give,
lying in the courts of love,
a case put to rest by deceit,
when we argue and go to sleep.

To then wake up
and repeat.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

You know
I don’t know
and revel in the not knowing
because the pain of knowing
would mean growing
into someone
I believe is
not worth the knowing

I just need a break
A long break from everything
I am going through

I just want to breathe
and forget all my worries
and feel the fresh air

I just want to spend
Some time watching the blue sky
Some time with myself.

i’m numb,
no i’m not sad, not happy
maybe i’m fine

but i’m numb

when you give them your all
and you often don’t get it back
it leaves you empty

no.

it leaves you numb

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.

I wonder if I really am kind hearted.
Most people think it’s true,
But maybe I’m just afraid of being mean-
Maybe I’m afraid of being you.

He asked her what it's like living with anxiety.

She smiled sadly, "It's a never-ending pulse-race. Like knowing you don't want to jump off a cliff but not being able to talk yourself down from it.

Your fears take on a nebulous, unidentifiable form that tightens around your throat and incapacitates you.

There is no calm. No peace. Only the edge of a very strained thread."