every night, i lie awake in my bed
it always seems like
its too BIG, too wide , and too empty for me
but it
still
collapses
under the weight of the words
etched in my throat
once more,
the moon glimmers a tad too bright
as it beckons me
to come closer to the edge
to hear its soft lulls and gentle breeze
like a guilty devotee,
i say my woes to the careworn moon.
goodnight, i say, goodnight.
will you carry these wretched pleas
over to the sun?
Jun 6, 2024
Jun 6, 2024 at 2:45 PM UTC
it genuinely boggles my mind
when i try to fathom
how it is actually possible
to contain an immense amount
of warmth and love for someone
loving someone
to the extent that it transcends physicality?
to the extent that it encompasses
more than just the body and the soul?
i could go on and on,
ramble endlessly,
and write about how the act of selflessly giving yourself
to another person is seemingly something akin to breathing --
natural, unsought, easy, and innate
but i fear it would still not be able
to fully encapsulate the depth and ferocity
of this closely-knit emotion
that this frail body of mine holds.
(i could certainly try
but it would take a millennium)
Oct 12, 2023
Oct 12, 2023 at 2:04 PM UTC
i love like a mangled dog,
rummaging through the grimiest corners
for some sort of semblance
of tranquility disguised as chaos
fangs constantly bared
but ceaselessly yearning
to be a subject of someone’s affection
tell me,
how do i stop loving like this?
contorted. star-eyed. gullible.
tell me,
how do i stop being loved
with anything but love?
until then,
i’ll still wait for you by the porch
tied on a leash too close to my pulse.
i’ll keep on waiting.
(when) are you coming back?
are you coming back?
Jun 20, 2023
Jun 20, 2023 at 8:00 AM UTC
i carry my mother’s rage
in every part of me;
i am never without it
i carry my mother’s rage
just like her mother did,
and just like her mother also did
if destruction is a form of creation,
then my mother
was never an inventor.
Feb 27, 2023
Feb 27, 2023 at 10:21 PM UTC
more often than not,
i find myself
scrutinizing the person
i see in the mirror;
whispering
and desperately reassuring
that i am not
my mother
nor
my father.
Sep 3, 2022
Sep 3, 2022 at 11:33 AM UTC
the dirt
continues to grow and fester
beneath my fingernails.
but i don't stop groveling
down to my knees,
i don't stop to breathe;
to rest.
you, who bears god's love;
whose love i could not know.
you and your sin-stained palms
continue to enshrine
dilapidated ghost towns.
i undo the stitches on my wounds
and pick at the grisly scabs
under your scrutiny,
yet you chastise me
for the pool of blood
bespeckled on your feet.
the darkness
already dropped,
the night hides me once more.
the living sorrow,
simmered, bitter, and fresh;
everything remains.
Aug 10, 2022
Aug 10, 2022 at 11:49 PM UTC
the paper in front of me remains unsoiled,
no traces of muddled thoughts,
blunt conviction,
or even a speck of wariness.
the solace that i had found
in creating my own gospels
was nowhere to be found.
words no longer gushed
from the corners of my mouth,
nor did it try to burrow into nothingness.
no matter how many times
i twist and untwist these jumbled letters together,
i am woefully greeted with none other than
static and white noise.
Jul 11, 2022
Jul 11, 2022 at 12:52 AM UTC
i want to make a poem
about how much i yearn for you
and for the moments and time
lost in the wind.
but the words refuse to come out;
it drags itself up to my throat and just hangs there.
it just
hangs there,
kept and caged in the crevices of my mind.
perhaps it hurts too much to write
because the pain becomes real;
and it becomes terrifying.
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 12:10 PM UTC
these days
feel so abundantly empty;
i have become absolutely enamored
with the way our silence lulls us to sleep;
embracing each other's warmth and company.
but, alas, such bitter fate.
now, i try to fill the void with mindless chatters
but it all remains futile.
everything hurts without you.
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 11:04 AM UTC