I'm so jealous of your eyelashes,
they get to kiss your cheeks approximately twenty thousand times a day.
Needless to say, I'm jealous of the breeze intertwining in your hair
and the pillow you hug every night.
Lucky your coffee mug,
which you kiss every morning and in the nights of induced insomnia.
I envy your books,
the ones you caress and read with infinite interest.
I wish I was motherland,
so you could love me up to my rivers, faults, caves, sunsets, trees...
You go through the day, unknowingly inspiring verses in other people, and I drown in the unknown.
I want to get to know you as much as the shyness keeps me from fearlessly speaking to you.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
Perhaps, the stars gather up at night
in the hopes of gazing into your eyes.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
Late night thoughts are tying a knot with late night urges to splatter my brain in a blank canvas.
Countless of brown shades I've made, I've mixed.
Not even close.
I gave it a touch of green.
Wrong, your velvety voice whispers along the back of my head.
None of these can even closely resemble your eyes, none can grasp them.
Why can't I grasp them?
I laced my fingers through my hair in frustration and I went into an archive in my mind, remembering that color.
Velvet. Another color I could make a thousand shades of, but they could never match your voice.
Why can't I grasp you?
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
I don't know how to get you out of my mind (and heart). I've spilt oceans all over my face every time the moon comes up, and letters don't fit in my journal anymore. I've tried to cough you out, but it's dry. I've tried burning you to ashes with the strongest ***** I can find. I've stopped looking at the stars; I can't stand looking back at your eyes. I've stopped talking— I believe that maybe I can **** you in my throat. It's like you've sank your claws so deep into me, I just can't let you go because I still check my phone every five mintunes. I still find the words to write about you with. I still regret waking up in the morning, you hit me right in my brain. I can't ******* let you go. And it's driving me ******* insane. My hair despises you and my hands keep trembling, and my eyes keep drowning.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
I thought I was doing fine,
but it all just crashed over me.
I thought the mere idea of a possibility was far deceased in my mind, but optimism has never been my thing and now I know why.
I thought that because I understood, my heart would bleed a little less,
but now even my eyes bleed every now and then,
and my glass heart dangles on a very fine thread.
I thought my heart was finally listening,
but my mind told it some incredibly hurtful things.
My mind told my heart all about you and about that girl.
My mind described your smile while you stood proudly in a digital memory next to her.
My mind reminded my heart that I wanted her place and moving on ******* hurts.
And there was nothing else I could do,
I could only sit back and watch how you unknowingly knew you cut the fine thread holding my heart,
and feel as it broke down to pieces,
and there was no fire to put it back.
I was doing so fine.
******* it, I ******* thought I was doing fine.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
Just when I thought I had shared everything of me with you, I realized I forgot to show you my favorite poems. And I did, and you read each and every one of them.
What made my heart race the most was the fact that you tried. You tried to understand how I would relate to this poem and you genuinely cared.
Just when you began painting of beautiful blues and yellows, reds and oranges, purples and greens, in a world that used to be just black and white for me,
when my thoughts because a little bit more optimistic, time and situations grabbed us both by our feet and dragged us away from each other.
We held on, and we fought, and we tried, and we cried.
In the end, our hands were worn out from gripping and we had to let go.
What made my heart hurt the most was the fact that I kept on reading and reading, and I kept finding more poems, but I had to keep them buried deep inside my chest.
No one else would understand, or at least care to.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Just when you notice that no one else will dance in the palm of your hand,
that no one else will bundle up the stars and make a planetarium of your days,
that no one else will stand a thousand daggers piercing their chest,
that no one else will carry the weight of your tears as they carry theirs,
that no one else will miss a ride around the clock with their friends or family for you,
that no one will take time to spill their heart on a blank sheet of canvas for your birthday,
in that still moment,
you will regret not picking out a second to sing me good night... that was all I asked.
And even then,
even if I catch you trying to make me feel fire inside me and try to catch a pinch of my attention,
I promise you can never light up angering jealousy in my chest,
you will never obligate me to crave another girl's pair of eyes.
I was gold you had and never deserved,
you drilled me as if I were infinite- and I was,
but not for you,
just for me.
You thought I was an ocean,
that I would always depend on you,
mysterious moon,
but that's not how it is:
I am the wind running through your hair.
You used to be such a big thing for me,
but I realized I am bigger.
You used to be my significant other,
my other half,
but I realized I am significant on my own,
that I am not a fraction,
that I am a whole.
You used to be the light of my days,
but I am no longer afraid of the dark.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
Today he lost me and nothing hurts more that seeing him hurt.
And that may be a stupid thought, considering I have probably cried more because of him in two years than he has in a life time.
It may just be my selfless self, because my heart looks like a battlefield after war.
Sixteen days into December I decided to be truly strong.
My friends would say I was strong for taking so much when I was actually too weak to end suffering.
Because my love for him was bigger than all the problems combined, but it was killing me inside.
And I'll probably never end this poem sweetly or lightly because you can only say it bluntly,
because it can't be sugar-coated,
because using other words is useless.
Today he lost me.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
Everyone would congratulate for how strong I was,
for how much I've decided to take in.
But I am not strong,
I am the weakest of all,
because while people are strong enough
to let go of things that do them wrong,
to not settle for less than they deserve,
for recognizing it so,
I am still here.
Holding on to you as if it did me any justice,
hoping that one day you'll change,
and at the same time,
hoping one day I'll be strong enough
to let go of you,
who does me wrong.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
I hate feeling upset after you joke about having lots of girls,
I detest having to be too self-conscious to have that bother me late at night.
I hate to see other girls look at you, wanting to be yours, and even though you shrug them off and spin your head at them,
I despise to think what if one day you'll follow their game, what if they captivate you?
What if you see something much more special and get bored of me?
What if someday, another set of eyes captivate you more than mine?
I hate it when you get mad at me for being this self-conscious, for doubting you,
I loathe that it's my fault because you don't do anything wrong to bring me lack of faith and get me paranoid,
I abhor having to bother you this way.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC