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Afrotastic27
you rushed in like the cold winter air and left me there alone, naked and shivering and wishing only for spring
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Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 10:13 PM UTC
tulips.
have you ever seen words dance like that? she can make syllables shimmer like diamonds, the pieces of her soul she bares when she smiles and laughs filling the room with the serenity of snow and the warmth of her good heart woven from the same fabric as kindness and beauty - transport me through time to find that I still admire you just the same and the worlds and characters you concoct inspiring worlds in me; bend dreams into marvelous shapes, lost in the throes - the fervent grip of your beautiful imagination.
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Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 12:14 AM UTC
Hannah/hannaH
i sank into you so easily, did I think it would hurt any less? i fell so **** hard i hit the floor and shattered - messy broken pieces cradled by copious coping mechanisms and erudite discussions of self-love. Kiss the Sun and feel the fire consume flesh that weeps, decays for love, starved and starving so willing to risk it all for a future that feels far and foreign like some forgotten (or perhaps, mad?) dream juggle life and death only to spiral deeper into the past into the present into emotional volatility like the withdrawals my heart endures away from you and the pain of longing, having longed for nothing more than your touch; addictive personality prevailing, sinking further into lovesick madness, I turn to the past for answers: memories attack like zombies rising from dew-laden graves, bursting through time’s barrier between the now and then... i see myself grasping someone’s thumb i feel love for the first time; i see a girl smiling at me - she kisses me awkwardly next to a green ladder and i can’t respond because i don’t know how; i see an arm around a shoulder in the back of a Dodge van and a sweaty highschooler asking for a girl’s cellphone number - did he save her life or did she save his? time slips through them like knives cutting ribbons out of clear paper and centuries rust like the forgotten bike in that groundhog’s shed; i see a sweater, hear a voice, and my heart colours the sky with every shade of the love i cannot yet admit i am feeling - she is better than me, of this i am certain, which is perhaps why it hurts when she is so far and i already make myself feel so small. i see myself, alone, young, afraid how powerful my love feels when i let it go - while no one’s watching and it has nowhere to go but inward; a tree falls, hidden in the dark - lay in the snow and cease. my heart beats red: blood-pulse-rhythm beat beat beating beating beating beat doomed to love and cursed to care a fate only human.
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Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 12:12 AM UTC
love - a theory
i sank into you so easily, did I think it would hurt any less? i fell so **** hard i hit the floor and shattered - messy broken pieces cradled by copious coping mechanisms and erudite discussions of self-love. Kiss the Sun and feel the fire consume flesh that weeps, decays for love, starved and starving so willing to risk it all for a future that feels far and foreign like some forgotten (or perhaps, mad?) dream juggle life and death only to spiral deeper into the past into the present into emotional volatility like the withdrawals my heart endures away from you and the pain of longing, having longed for nothing more than your touch; addictive personality prevailing, sinking further into lovesick madness, I turn to the past for answers: memories attack like zombies rising from dew-laden graves, bursting through time’s barrier between the now and then... i see myself grasping someone’s thumb i feel love for the first time; i see a girl smiling at me - she kisses me awkwardly next to a green ladder and i can’t respond because i don’t know how; i see an arm around a shoulder in the back of a Dodge van and a sweaty highschooler asking for a girl’s cellphone number - did he save her life or did she save his? time slips through them like knives cutting ribbons out of clear paper and centuries rust like the forgotten bike in that groundhog’s shed; i see a sweater, hear a voice, and my heart colours the sky with every shade of the love i cannot yet admit i am feeling - she is better than me, of this i am certain, which is perhaps why it hurts when she is so far and i already make myself feel so small. i see myself, alone, young, afraid how powerful my love feels when i let it go - while no one’s watching and it has nowhere to go but inward; a tree falls, hidden in the dark - lay in the snow and cease. my heart beats red: blood-pulse-rhythm beat beat beating beating beating beat doomed to love and cursed to care a fate only human.
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124
The difference between a moment and a lifetime. When your laughs reach your eyes. When your cheeks hurt from smiling. When you feel lost, and it means found.
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Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC
when you know
An idiot is harmless, Until that idiot falls in love, Then they’re willing to do anything, For the person they’re in awe of. Whether its building a new world, Or burning the old one down, They’ll stop at nothing, To give their love a crown. Now if that love fades, And they are left weeping, They could take one of two paths, Both will leave an empty heart unsleeping. Path one is war and rampage, Destroy everything in their way, Path two is depression and tears, They may cause their own doomsday. Either way an idiot is harmless, Until that idiot falls in love, And if you happen to cross that idiot, Beware for they do not care, they are deprived of---------
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Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 9:47 PM UTC
idiot in love
Tired is a feeling that rests in the corners of your eyes and makes the inside of your eyelids look a lot like Heaven. Goodnight morning.
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Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 9:45 PM UTC
inner peace - twitter poem #2
2 am is quiet it reeks of silence; night slinking sleepily into day, the dew marinated-grass shimmers like the stars above and a hollow moon welcomes tired eyes wide with wonder.
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Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 9:42 PM UTC
two a.m. - twitter poem #1
sketch a thought for the girl who wanders the echoing halls of my mind, depression’s cold cousin, smooth as a seal’s fur, reaching through barriers - wrapping your fingers around my heart, only to pull, pull, pull; i am belly-up my guts exposed like the tears that dissipate in the wind for her. I once knew her: mirror, mirror, held up to myself and i scream - have i been a monster? does the gaslit lamp provide enough light? it misleads disfigures we mould ourselves to marry and martyr before we know how to speak truthfully love is as real and painful as the scars on my back, your wrists, my lips, yours eyes, my mirror mind shattered. you gave me magic, i gave you happiness and you returned it signed: “return to sender”. packaged, parceled-up, compartmentalized, fragmented; pieces of a beautiful thing cast out across the tide pulled along by the current then sunk below the water’s surface - freezing cold and isolated. i washed up on shore in a land not quite Europe not quite America with all of the problems both have, lovelorn and lost; i survived there, somehow - fresh eyes drew me forward to explore this land in the wake of exploring so much pain. now my heart is full but so is my mind: with the knowledge of seven years, who i’ve been, who i will be, because we have to change because i wanted change because i’m in love and too scared to utter those words out loud because i don’t want to rush or ruin or reverberate the madness. i will love new i will love strong i will love genuinely (even when it hurts) and i will not give up.
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Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 9:31 PM UTC
painting the past
sketch a thought for the girl who wanders the echoing halls of my mind, depression’s cold cousin, smooth as a seal’s fur, reaching through barriers - wrapping your fingers around my heart, only to pull, pull, pull; i am belly-up my guts exposed like the tears that dissipate in the wind for her. I once knew her: mirror, mirror, held up to myself and i scream - have i been a monster? does the gaslit lamp provide enough light? it misleads disfigures we mould ourselves to marry and martyr before we know how to speak truthfully love is as real and painful as the scars on my back, your wrists, my lips, yours eyes, my mirror mind shattered. you gave me magic, i gave you happiness and you returned it signed: “return to sender”. packaged, parceled-up, compartmentalized, fragmented; pieces of a beautiful thing cast out across the tide pulled along by the current then sunk below the water’s surface - freezing cold and isolated. i washed up on shore in a land not quite Europe not quite America with all of the problems both have, lovelorn and lost; i survived there, somehow - fresh eyes drew me forward to explore this land in the wake of exploring so much pain. now my heart is full but so is my mind: with the knowledge of seven years, who i’ve been, who i will be, because we have to change because i wanted change because i’m in love and too scared to utter those words out loud because i don’t want to rush or ruin or reverberate the madness. i will love new i will love strong i will love genuinely (even when it hurts) and i will not give up.
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71
by the sea i saw her there, lost on another voyage; i hope she finds her way home floating on the notes between the bars of the road bopping along a scale frozen in time until the asphalt weakens under the sun and rain and snow; washout roads lead to washed out souls but conditions have never been better. i was saved by a martyr self bundled in boxes and shipped off to my sister — my keeper; rescued by captain fantastic, sleeping with myself, saved in time tonight and every night and winding it down like the brown dirt cowboy you always knew i could be. those songs came over the waves sailing through my musical bones, electrified; neurotransmitters like piano keys jazzing up a well-strummed soul, fingers plucking heart strings without resistance, and i am at the mercy of music you’ve made - that mesmerizing melody in the inflection of your voice and the movement of your body against mine; rhythm. don’t **** this song and dance when the curtains just opened let this harmony take us home and resonate.
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Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
fantastic strikes back
feel lost within’ yourself, it’s scary because you attack yourself, left alone in self-containment, the blood flecks the inner walls and you see red; shutting out other voices, you fall far and fast - the self becomes as vast and terrifying as outer space, a cage becomes a spaceship; given the tools to survive until you run out of oxygen, beating yourself into submission only to realize how, bloody-faced, a self-made martyr floods the causeway without recourse to part the tide... no way to progress - to shepherd yourself through the grim darkness and uncertainty, locked in what feels like an eternal battle: depressed, anxious, lonely, tired - the vandals of personalities past and present - come to me for round one, two, three, wash away in the silt fragments of time that elude me, slip through the cracks in my brain and disappear only to implode when it feels like you need them the least (because that’s life). do you let the shards of self-pity shatter you? do you let the tide close in on both sides and consume you whole? do you **** a mind that seems to never learn what it means to love itself properly? or do you write and hope the phantom pain, the biting cynicism, the bitten tongue, and the burning trauma die down for the time being? there is no answer. or else you’d find it tattooed on each cerebral hemisphere, coded into the DNA that malfunctions perfectly to make us each imperfect.
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Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 3:24 PM UTC
the rise and fall of captain fantastic