kendra-gibson-1 - Hello Poetry

For she loves me not for who I used to be or who I was before, but for who I am now and what she knows I'll be in the days to come.

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Apr 7, 2013

Apr 7, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

Untitled

For she loves me not for who I used to be or who I was before, but for who I am now and what she knows I'll be in the days to come.

4

I give myself what is rightfully mine. The ability to be myself without the judgement of others affecting my emotions and self confidence. I give myself what is rightfully mine. The freedom to BE without fear of being disliked and loathed and tormented. I give myself what is rightfully mine. Because you do not have the power to tell me who I am. Nor do you have the right to belittle me into nothing. I am everything. I am me. You cannot change that.

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Apr 7, 2013

Apr 7, 2013 at 1:10 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

What is Rightfully Mine.

I give myself what is rightfully mine. The ability to be myself without the judgement of others affecting my emotions and self confidence. I give myself what is rightfully mine. The freedom to BE without fear of being disliked and loathed and tormented. I give myself what is rightfully mine. Because you do not have the power to tell me who I am. Nor do you have the right to belittle me into nothing. I am everything. I am me. You cannot change that.

16

There is a parenthesis plastered to her face. She stands out in a crowd with her glowing cheeks and her infectious laughter. But if you really look at her, you'll see the void of happiness in her eyes. She's not as happy as she pretends to be, among the crowd of misguided youth. Her parenthesis are turned the wrong way but only her eyes tell us the truth.

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Mar 17, 2013

Mar 17, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

Parenthesis

There is a parenthesis plastered to her face. She stands out in a crowd with her glowing cheeks and her infectious laughter. But if you really look at her, you'll see the void of happiness in her eyes. She's not as happy as she pretends to be, among the crowd of misguided youth. Her parenthesis are turned the wrong way but only her eyes tell us the truth.

10

He was not alone. The moon and the stars were there. He could not see them.

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Mar 17, 2013

Mar 17, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

Untitled

He was not alone. The moon and the stars were there. He could not see them.

3

What was this when the snow started falling? Did it change when the skies grew grey? I'm not sure if this was meant to be but it sure as hell could have lasted a bit longer. What was it when the sun beamed through the clouds? Was it nothing but you turning around? Here is a shadow, you ****** the darkness upon my shoulders. I'm not sure if it was meant to be. But I'm sure that you were as cold as ice when you could have been the Summer sun.

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Mar 17, 2013

Mar 17, 2013 at 11:38 AM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

What was it?

What was this when the snow started falling? Did it change when the skies grew grey? I'm not sure if this was meant to be but it sure as hell could have lasted a bit longer. What was it when the sun beamed through the clouds? Was it nothing but you turning around? Here is a shadow, you ****** the darkness upon my shoulders. I'm not sure if it was meant to be. But I'm sure that you were as cold as ice when you could have been the Summer sun.

14

Maybe if the wind shifted its direction our souls would be less fractured. But for now it seems that our remains will be severed from our remedies. Our maladies meet their extremeties and forever less than never our lives will be nothing but dust in the breeze. Now remember please, that our choices are confusing. Save the formalities for the ceremonies this rigorous ritual we claim to be sentimental our lives that cause stress and our minds that break our souls. Like I said, our lives are nothing but dust in the wind; if only it'd shift its direction.

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Mar 9, 2013

Mar 9, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

Different Directions

Maybe if the wind shifted its direction our souls would be less fractured. But for now it seems that our remains will be severed from our remedies. Our maladies meet their extremeties and forever less than never our lives will be nothing but dust in the breeze. Now remember please, that our choices are confusing. Save the formalities for the ceremonies this rigorous ritual we claim to be sentimental our lives that cause stress and our minds that break our souls. Like I said, our lives are nothing but dust in the wind; if only it'd shift its direction.

25

I've forgotten what it was like to have someone there for you when you needed them. I've gotten so used to being my only friend that I can't recognize the kindness in another person. I've become bitter toward the human race for leaving me alone in a time when I needed someone the most. I felt as if I was a drifting wood, floating amidst the blue seas. Endless. I found no other drifters. Endless. I found a horizon that I could not reach. Here I am, a floating soul with a neverending ocean of solitude. I am my own friend and I feel like I'm losing me too.

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Feb 27, 2013

Feb 27, 2013 at 3:33 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

I Am My Own Friend

I've forgotten what it was like to have someone there for you when you needed them. I've gotten so used to being my only friend that I can't recognize the kindness in another person. I've become bitter toward the human race for leaving me alone in a time when I needed someone the most. I felt as if I was a drifting wood, floating amidst the blue seas. Endless. I found no other drifters. Endless. I found a horizon that I could not reach. Here I am, a floating soul with a neverending ocean of solitude. I am my own friend and I feel like I'm losing me too.

22

She says she's an alcholic while she holds her invisible bottle of gin.

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Feb 9, 2013

Feb 9, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

Untitled

She says she's an alcholic while she holds her invisible bottle of gin.

4

I'm sorry, my words aren't good enough for you. I'm sorry, my thoughts aren't worthy of you. I'm sorry, my feelings don't mean anything to you. But I'm not sorry, that I'm honest. And I'm telling you how I feel because I know that in a matter of weeks, days, hours, minutes, you will not mean anything to me. Like I didn't to you.

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Feb 8, 2013

Feb 8, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry, my words aren't good enough for you. I'm sorry, my thoughts aren't worthy of you. I'm sorry, my feelings don't mean anything to you. But I'm not sorry, that I'm honest. And I'm telling you how I feel because I know that in a matter of weeks, days, hours, minutes, you will not mean anything to me. Like I didn't to you.

25

I'd like to tell you a story, a story about a girl, a story about a boy. But while I tell you this story, I want you to listen. Listen to the sounds around you, listen to the cars driving by, listen to the planes roaring in the sky. Most of all, listen to yourself. Your rhythmic breathing, inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Listen to your heart as it thumps thump thump thumps in your flesh covered chest. Tell yourself you are real. You are alive. Your story is more important than the one of this boy and girl, because their story doesn't exist. Your story does. So feel alive.

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Feb 8, 2013

Feb 8, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC

kendra-gibson-1

Let Me Tell You A Story

I'd like to tell you a story, a story about a girl, a story about a boy. But while I tell you this story, I want you to listen. Listen to the sounds around you, listen to the cars driving by, listen to the planes roaring in the sky. Most of all, listen to yourself. Your rhythmic breathing, inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Listen to your heart as it thumps thump thump thumps in your flesh covered chest. Tell yourself you are real. You are alive. Your story is more important than the one of this boy and girl, because their story doesn't exist. Your story does. So feel alive.

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