JuliaNeary
No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path. ~Buddha / / "Love is knowing that sometimes you have to rely on someone eles's beat to make your story work" / https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LTjArdM7F4 / / Most of my poems are a work in process, because I don't know what I'm doing. Just know everything is 100% honest. In general I don't believe in hashtags, I think poetry should speak for itself. I would love any and all feed back, constructive criticism, anything so leave a comment or a message please.
I don't write about the fall,
Only about hitting the ground.
Imagine my surprise when
He caught me instead.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
I never had someone touch me like
I was made of glass and his touch
Made me feel like diamonds.
So sweet and it made me cry,
Tears hot and full fell down
My check, over a smile.
Resurrected, by his kind soul,
I am alive again.
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
I've named this pain after you.
An ache in my belly, it burns,
Simmers below my heart that
Keeps beating in spite of it.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
I miss him the way lilies
Miss the Sun at midnight,
And I long for his return
The way the tides long for
The Moon when it is full.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
The Black Cat watches
me with green eyes,
***** it's head to one side.
I stare back blinking,
fumbling over my footing.
I let him cross my path,
and feel the pain of
nostalgia as he slinks away.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
You make me stupid happy.
So happy that I can't write
smart poetry,
I can only speak in cliches.
I can only see red roses
and blue violets, but
your eyes are bluer
than I ever thought
I deserved to look at.
When you sleep,
I can't see them,
but I feel your arms
wrapped around my body,
and I feel safer than I ever
thought I could with a man.
I'll gladly give you everything
because you have given me
the greatest gift.
Not love, but trust.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
For 116 days you
occupied my heart and
most of my thoughts.
My skin was branded
when you left on day 83.
Every familiar sight, sound,
touch, smell, taste reminded
me of you...
Last night (day 117),
I kissed someone new,
and none of him
reminded me of you.
I let his hands wander,
let him steal my
breathe, but
not my heart.
Today I set my calendar
back to day 1.
My days belong to me.
I am free of you,
and I miss the feeling
of missing you...
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Twice to be exact...
The first time was slow,
but not hesitant, deliberate.
Soft and pink I left my mark
on the plaid pattern and he held
me, our bodies washed in warm
shadows from a single flame
burning at both ends
The second time was quick
and messy, but we needed
each other more than we needed
clean more than we needed
perfect. I needed him, all of him,
and his soft edges not the
Instagram filtered version of
himself he showed the world.
And I needed to show him
the real me, raw and red
When I look back on that
summer all I see is him and red
I hope that he remembers
that summer as red as I do
and that red now somehow
feels like blue...
I stained his sheets and
he stained my summer,
with coffee and beer, with
grass and sand in my shoes.
With morning breath kisses,
And motorcycle fumes.
With salt water mixed with
my mascara: happy tears,
hot and burning red!
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
Where are you now?
are you alone,
do you miss me...?
I miss your sleeping body,
pressed against mine
in the early morning.
The way you'd stretch,
and bend around me
like a question mark.
Your body wanting me
before your mind woke.
Could we go back?
To that place?
Forget that you gave up,
and let our bodies
remind us of why we fell
in the first place?
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
I don't get a lot of things right,
but I know that when I have you,
you will be my greatest achievement.
I will take you to our home that
is built on the best kind of love
the kind that is gentle and permanent.
When you are one, and your first word
is daddy,
I'll understand, he is a man
who inspires my best poetry too.
When you are six, and you want to
pick out your own clothes for your
first day of kindergarten, I'll let you.
I will also take pictures.
The day I have to explain the
difference between lust and
love to you, how you came to be,
and why you're family is broken, will be the worst day of my life,
until the day I have to mend your
first broken heart.
I can tell you now that I will not
know what to say or do in either
situation, but I can tell you this:
That loving and being loved should
be easy, like breathing, it should
Flow freely in and out of you.
That it's ok to have loved many
times, so long as, each love is as
healing as when you inhale. If it
fills you up from the inside and
out. That is how I loved your father.
We need love like we need air, but
we inhale and we exhale.
When love leaves you, it will feel
like you cannot breathe, through
the pain in your chest, but breath
little girl. Take full deep breaths
and know that you were my
second love, but also my best.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 2:58 AM UTC