kimohtherapy - Hello Poetry

You are now but a precious watch I used to wear. I'm still startled by that second I realize that you are no longer around my wrist. After almost a lifetime of having you wrapped around, listening to the echo of my heart, I have worn you like you were a part of my body. An identity, a reminder, my only fashion. You were one thing I was most proud of wearing. ---feeling vulnerable naked to the world, like I am in a shower Without you. We might've been destined as your beat and the pulse I have are in perfect synchronicity. In a thousand days of going out without you, I have now gotten used to the fact that I could go out to the world unshackled. Every time I watch the time I watch you watch me watching the tick like a time bomb nothing last forever and you remind me of that in the most natural way to you like breathing. and now your seconds wander to places beyond the circle. your hands no longer come together to hold mine. time might never stop, but for me it did. Our time is up. After a few years there's a random sunny day that my wrist feels light. A kind of lightness that I wasn't used to. You were the kind of weight that I carry before that wasn't heavy. You were the world while I was Atlas but never did I complained. Given the chance I would've I do still want to carry you around.

0

Mar 23, 2019

Mar 23, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC

kimohtherapy

Watch

You are now but a precious watch I used to wear. I'm still startled by that second I realize that you are no longer around my wrist. After almost a lifetime of having you wrapped around, listening to the echo of my heart, I have worn you like you were a part of my body. An identity, a reminder, my only fashion. You were one thing I was most proud of wearing. ---feeling vulnerable naked to the world, like I am in a shower Without you. We might've been destined as your beat and the pulse I have are in perfect synchronicity. In a thousand days of going out without you, I have now gotten used to the fact that I could go out to the world unshackled. Every time I watch the time I watch you watch me watching the tick like a time bomb nothing last forever and you remind me of that in the most natural way to you like breathing. and now your seconds wander to places beyond the circle. your hands no longer come together to hold mine. time might never stop, but for me it did. Our time is up. After a few years there's a random sunny day that my wrist feels light. A kind of lightness that I wasn't used to. You were the kind of weight that I carry before that wasn't heavy. You were the world while I was Atlas but never did I complained. Given the chance I would've I do still want to carry you around.

50

"To hell with all of you!" she rages as she throws out flames Scorching Heat He broke her heart they deserve it. No she doesn't find pleasure in seeing their skin burn flesh shown But there's no way to return. She's after the hearts of those impure who's told a lie and make **** sure to burn them all collect the ashes bathe in dry sea of lies. No more I love yous can stand the heat of her burning heart that's blessed indeed But if you live to tell the tale tell them "There's a diamond in flames and you won't be able to get her."

0

Mar 12, 2019

Mar 12, 2019 at 7:38 PM UTC

kimohtherapy

Diamond in Flames

"To hell with all of you!" she rages as she throws out flames Scorching Heat He broke her heart they deserve it. No she doesn't find pleasure in seeing their skin burn flesh shown But there's no way to return. She's after the hearts of those impure who's told a lie and make **** sure to burn them all collect the ashes bathe in dry sea of lies. No more I love yous can stand the heat of her burning heart that's blessed indeed But if you live to tell the tale tell them "There's a diamond in flames and you won't be able to get her."

21

I know of the nights you were afraid of the moon. You’ve told me how when you were a child you run from it because it was chasing you. But you’ve grown to learn that being afraid of the moon is like being afraid of your own shadow. I know of the nights that it still haunts you, though. I know of the nights when you prefer to stay under a roof than to go outside and see the wide, night sky Because you see, I know of the nights that you despised the moon for being too proud Outshining the numerous stars that are giving all they got, even their life, just to catch our attention. You said that one day she’ll come and get you. That the tin roof above you would no longer be enough to hide you from her piercing eyes and one day she’ll finally come and get you. That one day, she’ll outshine you too. I remember that night when you told me you couldn’t answer my call because You were too busy silencing the craters of the moon crashing in your room. And I believed you. I believed you for you always liked the darkness of your room. You always liked the clutter of your ***** laundry overflowing its basket, the crumpled papers of what you call “trash poetry” mixing up with wrappers of chocolates and coffee powder and your ***** laundry and --- You always liked to curl up in your tiny bed, not minding its untidiness because you never had the strength to fix it this morning. I always wanted to tell you that I should be the one to say sorry for not being there for you. I’m sorry that the only thing I could give you is a call. I’m sorry I couldn’t even open your windows and tell you that the moon is already gone, and the sun is already shining bright and the world is waiting for you. You, little son of the sun, should not stay in the dark. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of the dark. But I wish I could tell you that you were made to outshine the moon and everything else. You were made to turn night to day. I have too many wishes, too many words I wish I could tell you Like how it is not your fault It was never your fault and never going to be your fault That we are but a speck of dust, a mere human that destiny is not something we can overpower Well, we might move it a little if we struggle a bit harder But some circumstances can just happen out of nowhere. I wish I was more talkative so I could’ve silenced the whispers I wish my voice was enough to silence the whispers I could’ve screamed to the top of my lungs or even higher Just to save you from falling too deep and drowning under your covers. But we are nothing but a moon apart, never meant for each other right from the start Yet with this time I got I hope you’d let me stay and fight To become stronger, to become better, not only to save myself but to save you from this dark night For you, my mighty knight, is worth saving too. No, you are not merely worth saving but worth loving, worth keeping, worthy of everything that this night is hiding And you deserve that. So with this time I got I hope you’d keep me inside your heart so you will float And I could dive under your covers to save you Or I could climb to your roof to cover you Keep the craters of the moon from hitting you. And not let the moon overshadow you until you learn to put her brightness to shame.

0

Mar 7, 2019

Mar 7, 2019 at 4:22 PM UTC

kimohtherapy

Ta(tsuki)te

I know of the nights you were afraid of the moon. You’ve told me how when you were a child you run from it because it was chasing you. But you’ve grown to learn that being afraid of the moon is like being afraid of your own shadow. I know of the nights that it still haunts you, though. I know of the nights when you prefer to stay under a roof than to go outside and see the wide, night sky Because you see, I know of the nights that you despised the moon for being too proud Outshining the numerous stars that are giving all they got, even their life, just to catch our attention. You said that one day she’ll come and get you. That the tin roof above you would no longer be enough to hide you from her piercing eyes and one day she’ll finally come and get you. That one day, she’ll outshine you too. I remember that night when you told me you couldn’t answer my call because You were too busy silencing the craters of the moon crashing in your room. And I believed you. I believed you for you always liked the darkness of your room. You always liked the clutter of your ***** laundry overflowing its basket, the crumpled papers of what you call “trash poetry” mixing up with wrappers of chocolates and coffee powder and your ***** laundry and --- You always liked to curl up in your tiny bed, not minding its untidiness because you never had the strength to fix it this morning. I always wanted to tell you that I should be the one to say sorry for not being there for you. I’m sorry that the only thing I could give you is a call. I’m sorry I couldn’t even open your windows and tell you that the moon is already gone, and the sun is already shining bright and the world is waiting for you. You, little son of the sun, should not stay in the dark. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of the dark. But I wish I could tell you that you were made to outshine the moon and everything else. You were made to turn night to day. I have too many wishes, too many words I wish I could tell you Like how it is not your fault It was never your fault and never going to be your fault That we are but a speck of dust, a mere human that destiny is not something we can overpower Well, we might move it a little if we struggle a bit harder But some circumstances can just happen out of nowhere. I wish I was more talkative so I could’ve silenced the whispers I wish my voice was enough to silence the whispers I could’ve screamed to the top of my lungs or even higher Just to save you from falling too deep and drowning under your covers. But we are nothing but a moon apart, never meant for each other right from the start Yet with this time I got I hope you’d let me stay and fight To become stronger, to become better, not only to save myself but to save you from this dark night For you, my mighty knight, is worth saving too. No, you are not merely worth saving but worth loving, worth keeping, worthy of everything that this night is hiding And you deserve that. So with this time I got I hope you’d keep me inside your heart so you will float And I could dive under your covers to save you Or I could climb to your roof to cover you Keep the craters of the moon from hitting you. And not let the moon overshadow you until you learn to put her brightness to shame.

46

Being away from home makes me able to do anything I want without my parents having a panic. I mean they don’t know that every morning I have my cup of coffee despite being told I’m acidic. Or that at least every week I go try different coffee shops and order an espresso with less milk. Really? Am I a coffee addict? I mean… Who can say no to the aroma soothing your nostrils and leave you craving There in your table sits your very own cup, waiting to be kissed from its very seductive rim, parting your thrilled lips, burning your yearning tongue, providing your soul the bittersweet taste of the coffee you love And as you sip that blessed liquid Like lightning it electrifies you over your taste buds to your throat down to your chest then back up switching on every nerve in your brain. You bathe in that wonderful kick of caffeine. And you just can’t help but close your eyes and enjoy this hot bath from a long cold rainy day. Listening to the every chemical reaction feeling that sublime sensation now creeping into every part of your body telling you that you are no longer your own property. Then you suddenly get reminded of the last time you had your coffee. The abnormal beating of your heart the fireworks in your head the ringing in your ears the whispers of voices from your back thezjdflksjcxkdjfghdisquiet of the night and how it left you gasping for breath drowning in the sea of your tears of regret. It’s frightening. But being scared makes you hear your present heartbeat, slowly, rushing like it’s 8 in the morning You’re alive. It’s beating. You survived. You savor this forbidden sensation for as long as it lasts. But nothing lasts forever. When it starts to wear off, of course, it all comes back to the tongue. Here comes “The Finish”. Funny how acidity is the strong point of coffee but a weak point of you. Cold sweat runs through your back and a sharp burning feeling starts in your stomach. Your tongue touching the ceiling of your mouth is now starting to burn an unpleasant, undesirable sharpness, over-fermented bitterness. The bittersweet becomes just the bitter. You open your mouth like puffing out cigarette smoke breathe out deeply and slowly your tongue searching every corner of your mouth trace the lining of your gums desperate for that elusive sweetness that once filled you with happiness. In despair you’re left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste. Like a whistle of the kettle that tells you the water is boiling The reminder that you had coffee. Had. For a moment you want to cry—why can’t you just cry—but if they tell you not to cry over spilled coffee then more reasons they’ll tell you not to cry from drinking coffee Because who cries over coffee and why would you cry from drinking coffee? You ask yourself left with two answers: You’d cry because it’s bad, or you’d cry because you once had something so good. Almost. See even the most natural task on Earth like drinking coffee gives difficult life choices, too. But before you lose your mind thinking about The aftertaste, your breath, your heart, the whistle, the bittersweet, the bitter, the sweet, the aftertaste, the bitter, the… You feel the cup between your hands warm and welcoming. A faint light from this darkness has started to devour the blackness. And you open your eyes. You no longer hear the whistle of the kettle nor the rushed beat of your heart. Even the bitter taste in your tongue felt like it’s been there right from the start And you just no longer care of the aftertaste that takes ages to depart. You look at your cup with your loving doe eyes. You’re ready to take in another sip of your coffee not minding the aftertaste of that same unrequited love.

0

Dec 29, 2018

Dec 29, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC

kimohtherapy

THE AFTERTASTE OF YOU

Being away from home makes me able to do anything I want without my parents having a panic. I mean they don’t know that every morning I have my cup of coffee despite being told I’m acidic. Or that at least every week I go try different coffee shops and order an espresso with less milk. Really? Am I a coffee addict? I mean… Who can say no to the aroma soothing your nostrils and leave you craving There in your table sits your very own cup, waiting to be kissed from its very seductive rim, parting your thrilled lips, burning your yearning tongue, providing your soul the bittersweet taste of the coffee you love And as you sip that blessed liquid Like lightning it electrifies you over your taste buds to your throat down to your chest then back up switching on every nerve in your brain. You bathe in that wonderful kick of caffeine. And you just can’t help but close your eyes and enjoy this hot bath from a long cold rainy day. Listening to the every chemical reaction feeling that sublime sensation now creeping into every part of your body telling you that you are no longer your own property. Then you suddenly get reminded of the last time you had your coffee. The abnormal beating of your heart the fireworks in your head the ringing in your ears the whispers of voices from your back thezjdflksjcxkdjfghdisquiet of the night and how it left you gasping for breath drowning in the sea of your tears of regret. It’s frightening. But being scared makes you hear your present heartbeat, slowly, rushing like it’s 8 in the morning You’re alive. It’s beating. You survived. You savor this forbidden sensation for as long as it lasts. But nothing lasts forever. When it starts to wear off, of course, it all comes back to the tongue. Here comes “The Finish”. Funny how acidity is the strong point of coffee but a weak point of you. Cold sweat runs through your back and a sharp burning feeling starts in your stomach. Your tongue touching the ceiling of your mouth is now starting to burn an unpleasant, undesirable sharpness, over-fermented bitterness. The bittersweet becomes just the bitter. You open your mouth like puffing out cigarette smoke breathe out deeply and slowly your tongue searching every corner of your mouth trace the lining of your gums desperate for that elusive sweetness that once filled you with happiness. In despair you’re left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste. Like a whistle of the kettle that tells you the water is boiling The reminder that you had coffee. Had. For a moment you want to cry—why can’t you just cry—but if they tell you not to cry over spilled coffee then more reasons they’ll tell you not to cry from drinking coffee Because who cries over coffee and why would you cry from drinking coffee? You ask yourself left with two answers: You’d cry because it’s bad, or you’d cry because you once had something so good. Almost. See even the most natural task on Earth like drinking coffee gives difficult life choices, too. But before you lose your mind thinking about The aftertaste, your breath, your heart, the whistle, the bittersweet, the bitter, the sweet, the aftertaste, the bitter, the… You feel the cup between your hands warm and welcoming. A faint light from this darkness has started to devour the blackness. And you open your eyes. You no longer hear the whistle of the kettle nor the rushed beat of your heart. Even the bitter taste in your tongue felt like it’s been there right from the start And you just no longer care of the aftertaste that takes ages to depart. You look at your cup with your loving doe eyes. You’re ready to take in another sip of your coffee not minding the aftertaste of that same unrequited love.

91

I brush my teeth and stare at the blood from my sensitive gums, pretending it's from my wrist Intentionally charge my phone with the wire across my neck pretending it can choke me to death Anything that would make me feel like I'm close to taking my life Also stand on the edge of the twenty-fourth floor of some hotel room So high but still feels like drowning Or stay underwater until I can't breathe no more So deep but still feels like falling But no, I'm afraid to die I'm afraid not to see the people that in my funeral will cry They may be just three but I hold them so dearly I'm afraid to let them know that their presence is not enough To fill the void of darkness that's consuming me inside. Because they are enough but the darkness is too much. So I'll just keep on practicing death Until it will finally come and get me.

0

Dec 25, 2018

Dec 25, 2018 at 5:52 PM UTC

kimohtherapy

Pre-suicide

I brush my teeth and stare at the blood from my sensitive gums, pretending it's from my wrist Intentionally charge my phone with the wire across my neck pretending it can choke me to death Anything that would make me feel like I'm close to taking my life Also stand on the edge of the twenty-fourth floor of some hotel room So high but still feels like drowning Or stay underwater until I can't breathe no more So deep but still feels like falling But no, I'm afraid to die I'm afraid not to see the people that in my funeral will cry They may be just three but I hold them so dearly I'm afraid to let them know that their presence is not enough To fill the void of darkness that's consuming me inside. Because they are enough but the darkness is too much. So I'll just keep on practicing death Until it will finally come and get me.

18

Misshapen Mishappen One day she's forgotten.

0

Dec 25, 2018

Dec 25, 2018 at 5:40 PM UTC

kimohtherapy

Oblivion

Misshapen Mishappen One day she's forgotten.

3

Under the same satellite that I was afraid to crash right at me I recite what you said was your favorite of all my poems Wide open Vulnerable But you were holding my hand, dancing in the moonlight that I've never appreciated before 'cause I was too afraid by it's hidden, yet bright eyes following me, naked with all of my secrets But you were holding my hand And I was With you Unafraid to die Free.

0

Dec 19, 2018

Dec 19, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC

kimohtherapy

Satellite II

Under the same satellite that I was afraid to crash right at me I recite what you said was your favorite of all my poems Wide open Vulnerable But you were holding my hand, dancing in the moonlight that I've never appreciated before 'cause I was too afraid by it's hidden, yet bright eyes following me, naked with all of my secrets But you were holding my hand And I was With you Unafraid to die Free.

14

Your words became the rope that's tied on my neck Your whispers became the wind that pushed me off the edge Your stare became the blade that cut through my wrist Your goodbye became the pills I last took They didn't taste bitter In fact they didn't taste any and I let the night **** me And if by chance you hear this there's no need for you to worry I might've died that night but I learned to be reborn the next morning And the next morning after that.

0

Dec 19, 2018

Dec 19, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC

kimohtherapy

Resurgence

Your words became the rope that's tied on my neck Your whispers became the wind that pushed me off the edge Your stare became the blade that cut through my wrist Your goodbye became the pills I last took They didn't taste bitter In fact they didn't taste any and I let the night **** me And if by chance you hear this there's no need for you to worry I might've died that night but I learned to be reborn the next morning And the next morning after that.

13