anora-crescent - Hello Poetry

the blue heron in the deep end how can i be anyone but me i feel the weight of every word your eyes look right past me hands i recognize but tangled in long black hair

0

May 9

May 9, 2026 at 10:32 PM UTC

anora-crescent

backseat

the blue heron in the deep end how can i be anyone but me i feel the weight of every word your eyes look right past me hands i recognize but tangled in long black hair

6

the first time i ever loved winter twenty years since our december that white sweater falling soft around your shoulders your eyes shining like the true north star who was i then, not worthy of you your hands felt like home

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Feb 22

Feb 22, 2026 at 12:43 AM UTC

anora-crescent

i remember snow falling

the first time i ever loved winter twenty years since our december that white sweater falling soft around your shoulders your eyes shining like the true north star who was i then, not worthy of you your hands felt like home

6

will we be breathing in the same sun again? i have so much to say but it comes out wrong. ten summers passed and i can still see those plants reaching for the sun. young and messy in grayscale sheets. will we see another spring? i wrote a story that i'm afraid to read. my hands shake too much to turn the pages. water washing through my life. string lights on the bedpost guide me through memories. muddy pieces stuck together and blurred lines that i can't make out. behind my eyes i know you wanted what was out of reach. pin up my arms and legs because i don't know how to do any of this without you.

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Feb 12, 2022

Feb 12, 2022 at 8:12 PM UTC

anora-crescent

february

will we be breathing in the same sun again? i have so much to say but it comes out wrong. ten summers passed and i can still see those plants reaching for the sun. young and messy in grayscale sheets. will we see another spring? i wrote a story that i'm afraid to read. my hands shake too much to turn the pages. water washing through my life. string lights on the bedpost guide me through memories. muddy pieces stuck together and blurred lines that i can't make out. behind my eyes i know you wanted what was out of reach. pin up my arms and legs because i don't know how to do any of this without you.

10

my body is a series of dizzying corridors and windows painted shut. for a moment I forget and the red on my skin reminds me. and there are two choices, survive or don’t. colors blend together painting the grey that is my life. you said you wouldn’t and you did. 11 walls for each year until I don’t feel anything. my hands are not mine, my lungs and blood and bones are not mine. the stomach sick with fear is not mine. and I know now that love is not blind. arms outstretched but severed like limbs in a storm. I can’t pretend to be who I was. the world swallows me up and I feel so small. burned up like worms on the hot pavement. there is nowhere to go that doesn’t hurt.

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Feb 6, 2022

Feb 6, 2022 at 12:58 PM UTC

anora-crescent

grey

my body is a series of dizzying corridors and windows painted shut. for a moment I forget and the red on my skin reminds me. and there are two choices, survive or don’t. colors blend together painting the grey that is my life. you said you wouldn’t and you did. 11 walls for each year until I don’t feel anything. my hands are not mine, my lungs and blood and bones are not mine. the stomach sick with fear is not mine. and I know now that love is not blind. arms outstretched but severed like limbs in a storm. I can’t pretend to be who I was. the world swallows me up and I feel so small. burned up like worms on the hot pavement. there is nowhere to go that doesn’t hurt.

3

when I think of who you wanted and how it isn’t me or maybe it was then but not now not ever again. yellow dresses and cardigans. flowers growing from my eyes. deep green November water washed against the snow. I don’t remember who I was. hands trace over memories that don’t feel like mine. summers spent in the sun without failing. when I look at me I see nothing. blank, black cold. maybe I don’t want to remember. not anymore.

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Feb 4, 2022

Feb 4, 2022 at 1:03 AM UTC

anora-crescent

before.

when I think of who you wanted and how it isn’t me or maybe it was then but not now not ever again. yellow dresses and cardigans. flowers growing from my eyes. deep green November water washed against the snow. I don’t remember who I was. hands trace over memories that don’t feel like mine. summers spent in the sun without failing. when I look at me I see nothing. blank, black cold. maybe I don’t want to remember. not anymore.

9

that late afternoon feeling sweet smell in the air strands of honeysuckle braided into your hair humming a bluegrass song that reminds you of home. flowers stretching upward like soldiers your skin glowing soft in the sun hands turning up stones, summer knows your name.

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Jul 19, 2021

Jul 19, 2021 at 12:01 AM UTC

anora-crescent

summer

that late afternoon feeling sweet smell in the air strands of honeysuckle braided into your hair humming a bluegrass song that reminds you of home. flowers stretching upward like soldiers your skin glowing soft in the sun hands turning up stones, summer knows your name.

7

she reads the pages of my pain aloud over and over and over until it's 4am and there is nothing left but the dark. desperate to recall pictures of her like words scrambled together in books lost over time. she was beautiful, she was everything. her blue lace hands and sweet, hot marigold summers the stories of that winter, snow falling over rotted leaves washing all of it clean. she reads until the sun breaks open the stone blue iris, and the birds recall her voice her hair soaked from the first spring rain. she reads to remember, to forget, to heal to break her heart wide open to feel and stand on the ledge but remain.

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Mar 3, 2021

Mar 3, 2021 at 12:57 AM UTC

anora-crescent

"take a picture before i paint over her"

she reads the pages of my pain aloud over and over and over until it's 4am and there is nothing left but the dark. desperate to recall pictures of her like words scrambled together in books lost over time. she was beautiful, she was everything. her blue lace hands and sweet, hot marigold summers the stories of that winter, snow falling over rotted leaves washing all of it clean. she reads until the sun breaks open the stone blue iris, and the birds recall her voice her hair soaked from the first spring rain. she reads to remember, to forget, to heal to break her heart wide open to feel and stand on the ledge but remain.

20

i see her face there are lines now- i am missing years. i know her hands, her hair her knees and teeth but she is not me. days fall from the calendar and i am stuck here waiting, watching for her wondering if she will resurface i wrap my hands around my own wrists but they are not mine i bend with the same knees but they are not mine i eat with the same mouth but it is not mine. can you find her? i think the red painted over her- the searing hot pain in her gut swallowed her whole.

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Dec 2, 2020

Dec 2, 2020 at 8:46 PM UTC

anora-crescent

she

i see her face there are lines now- i am missing years. i know her hands, her hair her knees and teeth but she is not me. days fall from the calendar and i am stuck here waiting, watching for her wondering if she will resurface i wrap my hands around my own wrists but they are not mine i bend with the same knees but they are not mine i eat with the same mouth but it is not mine. can you find her? i think the red painted over her- the searing hot pain in her gut swallowed her whole.

20

i have battled many things- men my thoughts other people’s words i have walked down flooded streets water rushing to my knees i have had my heart broken by him, her, you there was nothing so big that i felt frozen until these six years crushing me - ******* out every piece until there is nothing left how do i learn to love me now.

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Feb 10, 2020

Feb 10, 2020 at 1:08 AM UTC

anora-crescent

taking.

i have battled many things- men my thoughts other people’s words i have walked down flooded streets water rushing to my knees i have had my heart broken by him, her, you there was nothing so big that i felt frozen until these six years crushing me - ******* out every piece until there is nothing left how do i learn to love me now.

13

Tired - of things that break of waves so big they swallow everything muscles and bones and guts hair and blood and teeth things that break and stay broken.

0

Feb 10, 2020

Feb 10, 2020 at 1:00 AM UTC

anora-crescent

cell

Tired - of things that break of waves so big they swallow everything muscles and bones and guts hair and blood and teeth things that break and stay broken.

6