The matter of the fact happens to be, I've ****** my way to ascension and I know how my shackles broke.
I wasn't rambling about nonsense but the **** I was spewing wasn't venom but love. I was sharing information about the future and that brought me to find the right help because at one point I realized I was everyone's safe space but I forgot who mine were.
I've been in every possible timeline. I know Claire, I know the real bubblegum baddies. I just thought I was tripped through all of that though.
Maybe change is uncomfortable in the way people with body dysmorphia feel, changing clothes in front of a mirror with shearing blind lights.
Maybe it wasn't me that was crazy. I just asked the right questions.
I was apolitical for a reason, but then I realized politics is your fundamental human right and if I don't fight for my human rights, who will?
If I don't claw and scream my way out, who will?
I've always been nice but I've always also been just out of reach from happiness.
So maybe it wasn't me.
Maybe, maybe isn't even the word.
The words ought to be in the present tense because change can't be seen until it's all done.
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 10:36 AM UTC
Somehow everything is the same but all that was is different,
the people, the clothes, me and then there's you.
Karmic retributions keep tilting me away from you,
but hopefully, this time we'll make something that lasts so here's to the tomorrow that's yet to come.
Consequences, repercussions have me always missing you,
I blink twice, breathe once and suddenly there's no trace of you.
I've done my best and I have no regrets,
but maybe you do,
do you perhaps regret me?
But if not so, then where are you?
Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 3:25 PM UTC
"Who should defend the moon if not the poets?"
Set the fires, let them burn.
The poets are watching,
Hold their gaze, stare them down.
Let them watch you, I vouch on their behalf, they will fall in love.
See how they defend all that their eyes linger upon.
You get to leave, but being forgotten is not your choice.
I wonder if like witches, the poets too were shunned.
Unanimously void of acceptance,
they hear battle cries where conversations are held.
The moon, her shadows. The earth her hollows
The poets go on to fight for all that they love,
I wonder how they reached this particular sparse,
A stretch of once lush but now fading grass.
A sad willow fueled by a writer's insatiable hunger.
Its roots reach deep, and its memories never fade.
The tree sags and groans, and empty nooses swing from where once dead weight hung.
I wonder if invisibility convinced the poets, that to love is to see and
To see is to show. So showmanship became a pre-requisite of their love.
But laced with it is fierce protectiveness of where they belong.
Is that why they're quick to defend another's flaws?
Baring their pens and flexing their claws.
Finding a million reasons to adorn the ones long gone?
They keep draping their dead muses with literary scarves.
In jewels, they bend over backwards to give but never grasp.
Always an Angel, Never a god.
Always the Artist never the art.
I defend the poets, for I was cursed with a poet's heart.
We wear our scars like medals from wars and
We will love till we crumble,
I wish the poets a soft love.
The love that they write and read about.
I wish the poets, a soft love,
Aug 15, 2024
Aug 15, 2024 at 2:11 PM UTC
I identify as the lipstick stain on your cigarette ****
Jul 25, 2024
Jul 25, 2024 at 6:04 PM UTC
Why must grief return in waves?
I can only hope,
It feels safe housed in me.
Jul 25, 2024
Jul 25, 2024 at 6:00 PM UTC
I think I understand hookups and one-night stands now.
The key to moving on is to replace all that stood before
until there stands nothing that may cause you to unravel.
Moment by moment,
conversation by conversation,
I replace the replays,
I can't bear the thought
of another touching me, like I'm not yours.
I got another ring today, all big and loose.
It's funny how I picked this one,
it keeps slipping off my fingers like you did.
It's been two months since I last wore your ring.
I don't see a difference between them,
it feels the same on my thumb.
and that should be the end of it,
but oh well, I guess it isn't.
I walked to the grocery store, paused at an aisle,
took my time frowning over chocolate bars.
You used to get me Munch, and so I picked the Mars bar.
I don't skip meals now, (well, most days I don't)
and in place of our routine conversations,
I play a random show.
I drown noise with noise.
My days are decent.
I'm surrounded by mindless jibber jabber.
I participate.
I paste a bright smile.
“You look well now,” they say,
“Well, I am” I reply.
And I am fine. (I think I am?)
9/10 times I am.
Then in a random mundane moment,
memories of you resurface like a ring light and
in that single moment,
I let myself crumble.
“I don't want him back.
He's changed now.
So have you and so what?
If it's meant to be, it'll be.
He's the love of my life.
Well don't let him in,
when (not if) he comes back.
Do it from love, not for it.
You deserve happiness.
Both of you do.
You want love.
You are love.
The ocean doesn't look for its water,
Why will you look for what you have?
It is what it is.
and this too shall pass.”
So on and so forth my inner monologue goes on,
and I stare at my phone wondering if I can conjure you from my thoughts.
I am kinder now.
With myself, and everyone around.
I wish I were kinder to you, but I was just a child.
I know you're proud,
and I am of you too.
Do you think I can sculpt my favourite version of you?
Wait, no.
I already did that,
I loved all of you
and then everything fell apart.
My thoughts swirl and I let them play.
Incantations in my head
Obligatory 3 am, weary sighs, contempt and rage.
Oh, so much rage.
Where is the calming lull of sleep, when you need it to sedate your despair?
Resignation sets in, I play a familiar game.
I ask the universe and unbiasedly it delivers the same day.
"Universe, give me a sign, I'm really done this time.
Yellow flowers if he's coming back,
Dandelions if he's not.
Universe let me move on. This is the last time, "
In my version of He loves me, he loves me not
I break flowers, not petals.
I look for answers in colours and not action,
And then I saw a dozen Dandelions.
Jan 17, 2024
Jan 17, 2024 at 4:40 PM UTC
I think I miss you more in the company of others.
Where silences have to be filled and middle-grounds need to be established.
Where triggers have to be explained and things have to be shared.
(You know I hate sharing when it's not you, I share with.)
Where memories have to be created and trust has to be forged and love will pave way but my heart is already yours, and you’ve broken it in multifolds.
We stand at crossroads,
You ask me to let go,
And I want to say no.
I miss you
And most of me knows we’re over now,
but stay a little longer, Just until tomorrow.
The tomorrows will keep coming and one day I will let go.
Without me having to convince you into staying and you wanting to leave,
Why leave just yet?
What’s one more day in the grand schematics when I’ve held it together for years before,
Why not stay for another day, before we finally let go?
Jul 20, 2023
Jul 20, 2023 at 4:46 AM UTC
The Human hair holds emotional weight the way one’s heart does.
Understandably so,
you’ve claimed every strand of mine, yours.
Jun 13, 2023
Jun 13, 2023 at 11:06 AM UTC
Soulmates and twin flames were lost on me
But I remember telling you about a red string,
A line that tied your toe to mine.
I heard a snip, then a snap.
Efforts to mend, always end in knots.
We're done
We're done.
We're done now.
Sep 7, 2022
Sep 7, 2022 at 12:23 PM UTC
I hold you in songs and stories I narrate,
Turns out I was right all along.
We now know I did love you more.
We’ve had arguments before.
On who’s hurt who the most.
You’d say I did you,
And I’d yell “oh please”
You’d bring up the one time I slipped up,
And I’d hold onto the million times you let me down.
Your secrets mine, your scars mine.
Not that I was a better person, we were both kids after all.
And then I heard. you’ve been telling people.
Versions that don't exist.
What can I say,
I know we’ve had arguments before.
There will be no more.
I know it hurts, trust me,
I do.
However,
You did hurt me more.
And the price of it belongs to you.
And I’d rather walk away now,
Walk away and never come back
Irrespective of how much I miss you.
Irrespective of how it feels.
I’ll walk away, and never return.
Return to see how things could’ve been if I had stayed.
I hope in some time,
I would have moved on,
That you would replace me.
This is the way it is supposed to be.
This is the play we made to see.
It’s not our fault,
We were never meant to be.
Jun 21, 2022
Jun 21, 2022 at 2:36 PM UTC