BlackWith3Sugars - Hello Poetry

I heard you cry for the first time And I hope it lasts a little while There were no tears Just loss It's like you're in search of a great sadness There is none to be found It's so peaceful here And yet, you are still looking back At the person you used to be, that you moved on from. They carried you well, and they deserve to be mourned. Regardless their weight You've always held them lightly. But others carry you now And there is a responsibility to being loved It asks us to be better and we should not refuse.

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Mar 3, 2025

Mar 3, 2025 at 6:18 PM UTC

I Still Don't Cry Enough

I heard you cry for the first time And I hope it lasts a little while There were no tears Just loss It's like you're in search of a great sadness There is none to be found It's so peaceful here And yet, you are still looking back At the person you used to be, that you moved on from. They carried you well, and they deserve to be mourned. Regardless their weight You've always held them lightly. But others carry you now And there is a responsibility to being loved It asks us to be better and we should not refuse.

15

Curse the poets blood. No matter how much I cut myself, I cannot bleed it away. Curse the poets skin. I cannot tear it off, it holds everything in. Curse the poets feet. The more I try to run away, the more they dig in, rooted to the words that ground my life. Curse the poets tears. They provide no comfort. They blur my vision, wet my pages and smudge my ink. Curse the poets mind. At times I dream of throwing it all away. But I cannot differentiate between reality and figments of creativity.

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Jul 14, 2023

Jul 14, 2023 at 8:27 PM UTC

A Poets Curse

Curse the poets blood. No matter how much I cut myself, I cannot bleed it away. Curse the poets skin. I cannot tear it off, it holds everything in. Curse the poets feet. The more I try to run away, the more they dig in, rooted to the words that ground my life. Curse the poets tears. They provide no comfort. They blur my vision, wet my pages and smudge my ink. Curse the poets mind. At times I dream of throwing it all away. But I cannot differentiate between reality and figments of creativity.

10

I am trapped in my skin Wrapped up and dripping in black ink It colours me transparent, there is no escape. Where i go, it goes. words are my salvation. They hold everything in, poetry spilling from the seams. I walk around with midnight holding close to me. I am my shadows shadow, hard to tell the difference

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Jun 17, 2023

Jun 17, 2023 at 8:58 PM UTC

A Dark-Skinned Poet

I am trapped in my skin Wrapped up and dripping in black ink It colours me transparent, there is no escape. Where i go, it goes. words are my salvation. They hold everything in, poetry spilling from the seams. I walk around with midnight holding close to me. I am my shadows shadow, hard to tell the difference

8

There are too many moments in my life when i had the words. i could have warmed the room, affirmed with love, comforted tears. and chose not to. i have long become sheltered by my writing. i let the fear of my tongue hold me back. love has asked me to better, and i have refused. never again.

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Jun 17, 2023

Jun 17, 2023 at 8:42 PM UTC

Learning to Speak

There are too many moments in my life when i had the words. i could have warmed the room, affirmed with love, comforted tears. and chose not to. i have long become sheltered by my writing. i let the fear of my tongue hold me back. love has asked me to better, and i have refused. never again.

10

Curse the poetic blood No matter how much I cut myself I fail to bleed it all away Curse the Poets skin I cannot tear it off It holds everything in Curse the Poets feet The more I try run away The more they dig in, rooted to the words that paint my life. Curse the poetic tears They bring no comfort, they blur my view and wet my pages, smudge my ink Curse the Poets mind At times, I dream of ways to throw it all away Curse my poetic heart But there is love here And so we cheer this life on.

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Mar 17, 2022

Mar 17, 2022 at 12:54 PM UTC

Cursing at the mirror

Curse the poetic blood No matter how much I cut myself I fail to bleed it all away Curse the Poets skin I cannot tear it off It holds everything in Curse the Poets feet The more I try run away The more they dig in, rooted to the words that paint my life. Curse the poetic tears They bring no comfort, they blur my view and wet my pages, smudge my ink Curse the Poets mind At times, I dream of ways to throw it all away Curse my poetic heart But there is love here And so we cheer this life on.

16

We are all talk We are all advice We are theories We are all philosophy Too many opinions Too much knowledge Too much water, nothing holding us Nothing giving shape We are all shapeless Too little back bone Not enough spine We are all pages None of us are books We are all something None are enough Too much thinking Not enough living We don't do We haven't done None are perfect For We do not practice Too many preachers

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Feb 8, 2022

Feb 8, 2022 at 4:01 PM UTC

We Are Not Enough

We are all talk We are all advice We are theories We are all philosophy Too many opinions Too much knowledge Too much water, nothing holding us Nothing giving shape We are all shapeless Too little back bone Not enough spine We are all pages None of us are books We are all something None are enough Too much thinking Not enough living We don't do We haven't done None are perfect For We do not practice Too many preachers

22

At 10, I didn’t plan to stay long. This inhibited my ability To think forward. Equally, I struggle to look back. I rebranded this, as living in the moment. Truth is, I never planned to make it to 24. And now that I’m almost there. I just can’t figure out what to do with myself. - Kata

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Apr 13, 2020

Apr 13, 2020 at 9:30 PM UTC

I Never Planned To Stay Long

At 10, I didn’t plan to stay long. This inhibited my ability To think forward. Equally, I struggle to look back. I rebranded this, as living in the moment. Truth is, I never planned to make it to 24. And now that I’m almost there. I just can’t figure out what to do with myself. - Kata

9

There is a warmth missing from me A coldness about my being A kindness put to sleep I don’t care enough Perhaps I once did, perhaps I will again But that part of me is broken, now. I have this timid fear Of never being able to care enough Maybe this is the warmth missing from me. The empty coldness that shadows my happiness The uneasy sway to my stillness. My great discomfort. - Kata

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Apr 8, 2020

Apr 8, 2020 at 3:27 PM UTC

My Great Discomfort

There is a warmth missing from me A coldness about my being A kindness put to sleep I don’t care enough Perhaps I once did, perhaps I will again But that part of me is broken, now. I have this timid fear Of never being able to care enough Maybe this is the warmth missing from me. The empty coldness that shadows my happiness The uneasy sway to my stillness. My great discomfort. - Kata

13

There is a warmth missing from me A coldness about my being A kindness put to sleep There is a violence about me And I am tortured by my inability to describe it There is an imbalance to my stillness An uneasy sway, it causes a great discomfort As I write this, I am greatly discomforted - Kata

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Apr 8, 2020

Apr 8, 2020 at 3:26 PM UTC

A Violence About Me

There is a warmth missing from me A coldness about my being A kindness put to sleep There is a violence about me And I am tortured by my inability to describe it There is an imbalance to my stillness An uneasy sway, it causes a great discomfort As I write this, I am greatly discomforted - Kata

9

There is a warmth missing from me I cannot figure out what it is. I get this feeling A shadowy empty coldness Lurking from the corner of my happiness. And it runs away, whenever I ask what it is. - Kata

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Apr 8, 2020

Apr 8, 2020 at 3:23 PM UTC

Poetry Is A Form Of Confrontation

There is a warmth missing from me I cannot figure out what it is. I get this feeling A shadowy empty coldness Lurking from the corner of my happiness. And it runs away, whenever I ask what it is. - Kata

8