margo13 - Hello Poetry

It scorched the Earth beneath my feet, Forever tainted how I experience the world around me. Things look different. Taste odd. Sound funny. You can never go back. Never undo. What's done is done. And now, well now, you must live in the aftermath. There has only ever been the aftermath. The ‘before time’ was a story you'd tell yourself to sleep better at night. Stories of being loved, seen, cared for, known. All fairytales that you'd gorge yourself on. Anything to take away the pain, Anything to make the loneliness stop. As you grew, you leaned on other things to take away the feelings: cut, eat, distract, dissociate. Make it numb. Make it tolerable. Make it livable. It hardened you. Broke parts of you. You tried to stay afloat. Sometimes, only sometimes, flirting with the idea of going under, wishing and praying to let the waves wash you away. Always trying to rebuild from the rubble at your feet. Always failing. Getting lost in the criticism, the shame, the self-loathing: the Mess. Hating yourself for not being able to just Clean Up The ******* Mess That they told you caused. Sometime, along the way, forgetting: It wasn't your bomb. You didn't detonate. It wasn't your dilapidated, abused, messy house - you Just lived there. It wasn't your fault. It never was.

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Jun 7, 2024

Jun 7, 2024 at 5:11 PM UTC

Trauma

It scorched the Earth beneath my feet, Forever tainted how I experience the world around me. Things look different. Taste odd. Sound funny. You can never go back. Never undo. What's done is done. And now, well now, you must live in the aftermath. There has only ever been the aftermath. The ‘before time’ was a story you'd tell yourself to sleep better at night. Stories of being loved, seen, cared for, known. All fairytales that you'd gorge yourself on. Anything to take away the pain, Anything to make the loneliness stop. As you grew, you leaned on other things to take away the feelings: cut, eat, distract, dissociate. Make it numb. Make it tolerable. Make it livable. It hardened you. Broke parts of you. You tried to stay afloat. Sometimes, only sometimes, flirting with the idea of going under, wishing and praying to let the waves wash you away. Always trying to rebuild from the rubble at your feet. Always failing. Getting lost in the criticism, the shame, the self-loathing: the Mess. Hating yourself for not being able to just Clean Up The ******* Mess That they told you caused. Sometime, along the way, forgetting: It wasn't your bomb. You didn't detonate. It wasn't your dilapidated, abused, messy house - you Just lived there. It wasn't your fault. It never was.

39

I have so many ******* regrets. I am crushed under the weight of it. Crushed. I learned how to feel nothing. a waking nightmare of nothingness. With a known tsunami of sadness just beyond the walls, keeping the feelings at bay. But you smell the saltwater in the air. I'd like to get drenched. Wash me away. Take me away. Take it all away. Leave me with nothing. Leave nothing. Which will be far more than the nothingness I feel.

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Dec 6, 2022

Dec 6, 2022 at 11:37 AM UTC

Nothing

I have so many ******* regrets. I am crushed under the weight of it. Crushed. I learned how to feel nothing. a waking nightmare of nothingness. With a known tsunami of sadness just beyond the walls, keeping the feelings at bay. But you smell the saltwater in the air. I'd like to get drenched. Wash me away. Take me away. Take it all away. Leave me with nothing. Leave nothing. Which will be far more than the nothingness I feel.

11

I am a therapist But I wanted to be an artist Clay under my fingernails, in my curls, drying on my skin. Filling up my moleskine Occupying my thoughts, my dreams, each moment of every day Now..... Now, I listen to people's pain, their sorrow, their hurt. 5 years of grad school, fancy acronyms at the end of my name, they can call me doctor...some do. some insist. perhaps it makes them feel like I am more than just an imperfect human like they are. My clients come to me with their pain, I see them, I hear them, I try, I try so hard to soothe them, make them feel worthy, make them feel good enough. make them feel loved. deserving of love. Some days, being a psychologist provides so much meaning to my life, other days...other days I cry and punish myself for not pursuing art. Why didn't I do it? Why was I so scared? Why did I let the **** talking from my parents and the judgements of my family keep me from doing what I loved? WHY. Hey, you want to know how to make me cry instantaneously? Ask me about what I gave up to be where I am today. what I lost for the acronyms, what I lost for the title, what I lost for the salary, what I lost so my mom could tell people her daughter was a "doctor" (not a real one even still) Ask me what I lost. Ask me how I lay awake at night, stare off into space, doing math in my mind, thinking, wondering, planning out how to grow my practice to make enough to rent a studio space, buy a kiln, and make art once again. Ask me why I got a doctorate in psychology so all I could think about was how to make art again. Ask me. I dare you. My own therapist just did and my make up smeared. I think sobbed is the technical term. Or perhaps, I just let all the feelings and sadness bleed out of me. every now and again they do every now and again I let down my defenses, remove the distractions, and find the time to really think and reflect on what I lost. what I gave up to allow myself to make money off of listening to people. I allow myself to be used and profit from it. JUST like my family uses me and takes up far too much space. I provide care to others because it's my job, but it's also what I've always known how to do, what I was taught to do. Taking care of others is ******* exhausting. I love my job. I hate my job. Ya know what? I never hated art. I never did. Art never took from me. Clay never used me and spit me out or told me things like "I'm not getting anything from you" like my clients have told me. clay Doesn't take. clay only gave. ceramics only ever gave. WHY the **** did I not allow myself to take? WHY did I create a life for myself where I am continuously giving and people are continuously taking? I am so ******* empty and so ******* tired. I just want to make art. all i ever wanted was to make art.

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Oct 5, 2020

Oct 5, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC

I am a therapist, But

I am a therapist But I wanted to be an artist Clay under my fingernails, in my curls, drying on my skin. Filling up my moleskine Occupying my thoughts, my dreams, each moment of every day Now..... Now, I listen to people's pain, their sorrow, their hurt. 5 years of grad school, fancy acronyms at the end of my name, they can call me doctor...some do. some insist. perhaps it makes them feel like I am more than just an imperfect human like they are. My clients come to me with their pain, I see them, I hear them, I try, I try so hard to soothe them, make them feel worthy, make them feel good enough. make them feel loved. deserving of love. Some days, being a psychologist provides so much meaning to my life, other days...other days I cry and punish myself for not pursuing art. Why didn't I do it? Why was I so scared? Why did I let the **** talking from my parents and the judgements of my family keep me from doing what I loved? WHY. Hey, you want to know how to make me cry instantaneously? Ask me about what I gave up to be where I am today. what I lost for the acronyms, what I lost for the title, what I lost for the salary, what I lost so my mom could tell people her daughter was a "doctor" (not a real one even still) Ask me what I lost. Ask me how I lay awake at night, stare off into space, doing math in my mind, thinking, wondering, planning out how to grow my practice to make enough to rent a studio space, buy a kiln, and make art once again. Ask me why I got a doctorate in psychology so all I could think about was how to make art again. Ask me. I dare you. My own therapist just did and my make up smeared. I think sobbed is the technical term. Or perhaps, I just let all the feelings and sadness bleed out of me. every now and again they do every now and again I let down my defenses, remove the distractions, and find the time to really think and reflect on what I lost. what I gave up to allow myself to make money off of listening to people. I allow myself to be used and profit from it. JUST like my family uses me and takes up far too much space. I provide care to others because it's my job, but it's also what I've always known how to do, what I was taught to do. Taking care of others is ******* exhausting. I love my job. I hate my job. Ya know what? I never hated art. I never did. Art never took from me. Clay never used me and spit me out or told me things like "I'm not getting anything from you" like my clients have told me. clay Doesn't take. clay only gave. ceramics only ever gave. WHY the **** did I not allow myself to take? WHY did I create a life for myself where I am continuously giving and people are continuously taking? I am so ******* empty and so ******* tired. I just want to make art. all i ever wanted was to make art.

52

So this is love. Wanting to be near it. Shaking to touch, To feel it against my skin. I am in love with clay. For Ceramics is the wood that fuels my fire. I need it in my life. Perhaps that is a void One of many voids that cannot be filled by people Where for art thou clay. I miss thee so. My heart yearns, Calls out. Can you hear me? Return to me Mother earth Return to me You goddess of dirt, mud, and all things kind Come back to me. The break has been painful, causing me to shrivel within Splinters forming at the core of my being. Water rushing in and freezing, expanding the cracks. Without clay there. How can I possibly mend the tear? I need the sustenance for my soul I am called to it. It beckons to me. And I am drawn to it A slave really Never in my life have I found a medium That satisfies me the way clay has. Can and Does. Don’t leave me here Alone to fend for myself in this dark world. Can’t you hear me calling out? The ghost of memories past call out your name Your presence Your spirit Mother earth Where have you gone I miss you so Return Return And never leave again

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Oct 5, 2020

Oct 5, 2020 at 2:02 PM UTC

Love note to Ceramics

So this is love. Wanting to be near it. Shaking to touch, To feel it against my skin. I am in love with clay. For Ceramics is the wood that fuels my fire. I need it in my life. Perhaps that is a void One of many voids that cannot be filled by people Where for art thou clay. I miss thee so. My heart yearns, Calls out. Can you hear me? Return to me Mother earth Return to me You goddess of dirt, mud, and all things kind Come back to me. The break has been painful, causing me to shrivel within Splinters forming at the core of my being. Water rushing in and freezing, expanding the cracks. Without clay there. How can I possibly mend the tear? I need the sustenance for my soul I am called to it. It beckons to me. And I am drawn to it A slave really Never in my life have I found a medium That satisfies me the way clay has. Can and Does. Don’t leave me here Alone to fend for myself in this dark world. Can’t you hear me calling out? The ghost of memories past call out your name Your presence Your spirit Mother earth Where have you gone I miss you so Return Return And never leave again

44

How do I mend my relationship with my body? How do I hate myself, less? How could I? How dare I? The world doesn't. It tells me all the reasons why I shouldn't. I mustn't. I must hate myself. I must hate my body, that is what I deserve. What my body deserves Love is reserved for the thin. the beautiful. The beautiful. I could never be beautiful. It's a lie, when they say it. It's a lie. when they say I am. I am beautiful from the neck up. but you'd never use that word, designate it to my body. to the rest of me. The rest of me should be tossed away. discarded. Please sir, can I keep my head? It's the only place I live, the only place I am allowed to be. I am not allowed to be beautiful. not allowed to be thin. that was not the hand I was dealt. not my lot in life. I exist in the world with my shame exposed. On display. Do you know how that feels? No hiding. No escaping. No pretending. I am fat. My body is fat. and from first glance, you can see my unworthiness. My lack of deservedness It's always there.

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Sep 23, 2020

Sep 23, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC

My Body, Continued

How do I mend my relationship with my body? How do I hate myself, less? How could I? How dare I? The world doesn't. It tells me all the reasons why I shouldn't. I mustn't. I must hate myself. I must hate my body, that is what I deserve. What my body deserves Love is reserved for the thin. the beautiful. The beautiful. I could never be beautiful. It's a lie, when they say it. It's a lie. when they say I am. I am beautiful from the neck up. but you'd never use that word, designate it to my body. to the rest of me. The rest of me should be tossed away. discarded. Please sir, can I keep my head? It's the only place I live, the only place I am allowed to be. I am not allowed to be beautiful. not allowed to be thin. that was not the hand I was dealt. not my lot in life. I exist in the world with my shame exposed. On display. Do you know how that feels? No hiding. No escaping. No pretending. I am fat. My body is fat. and from first glance, you can see my unworthiness. My lack of deservedness It's always there.

39

My body My body gets looked at, talked about, shamed. My body doesn't fit comfortably in an airline seat and my body keeps getting fatter. My body offends and disgusts you. My body absorbs the blows. the shocks it reverberates the ripples Take in more food. EAT. no one loves you. no one ever could. you're too FAT. too hideous. unlovable So, I abuse my body. I hurt it. give it more. move it less. It grows, my own self-loathing grows. Like water to a plant. Your gaze and comments like the sun My body continues to sprout. upwards outwards all aroundwards Making it harder to fit. harder to move. harder to Be. I wish they loved my body, maybe I could have too. Maybe I could have too.

0

Sep 23, 2020

Sep 23, 2020 at 10:45 AM UTC

My Body

My body My body gets looked at, talked about, shamed. My body doesn't fit comfortably in an airline seat and my body keeps getting fatter. My body offends and disgusts you. My body absorbs the blows. the shocks it reverberates the ripples Take in more food. EAT. no one loves you. no one ever could. you're too FAT. too hideous. unlovable So, I abuse my body. I hurt it. give it more. move it less. It grows, my own self-loathing grows. Like water to a plant. Your gaze and comments like the sun My body continues to sprout. upwards outwards all aroundwards Making it harder to fit. harder to move. harder to Be. I wish they loved my body, maybe I could have too. Maybe I could have too.

30

My moods swing. Sharp left, sharp right, spinning, spiraling. This time has me losing my footing, sinking, floating off, untethered. Breathe. Remember, you can swim. This is hard. Some days, I try to survive. Other days, I am drowning. Breathe. It will be okay, again. You will be okay, again. We will be okay, again. Remember, you are a survivor. We are survivors.

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Apr 14, 2020

Apr 14, 2020 at 11:31 AM UTC

Hopeful Reminder

My moods swing. Sharp left, sharp right, spinning, spiraling. This time has me losing my footing, sinking, floating off, untethered. Breathe. Remember, you can swim. This is hard. Some days, I try to survive. Other days, I am drowning. Breathe. It will be okay, again. You will be okay, again. We will be okay, again. Remember, you are a survivor. We are survivors.

31

To erase my mind of your memory To alleviate the pain To rid myself of your existence What I'd give I'd ****** you But you'd still remain Inside

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Feb 11, 2014

Feb 11, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC

Your memory

To erase my mind of your memory To alleviate the pain To rid myself of your existence What I'd give I'd ****** you But you'd still remain Inside

7

To tell you exactly, specifically, precisely why I love you I'd have to reinvent an alphabet, create a language, learn to sign The feeling that bubbles within when I look into your eyes cannot be captured or explained I feel like the world stops moving My breath struggles leaving my lungs All my fears, worries, washed away What is so powerful about loving you is the way you love me in return I feel confident, unstoppable, beautiful You tell all the dark parts inside to quiet whispering, no shouting to them: I am worthy of love To be worthy is all that I have ever wanted, needed, cried for in the middle of the night Although there is still so much to learn about each other Adventures to be had, moments to share I am giddy with anticipation your love gives me strength Replenishes me Fulfills me I have yet to really write down how I feel about you until now I've been afraid words would take our magic away I'd wake up one morning and realize is was a mere dream You steal my chapstick with your kisses Put up with my sassy abrasive nature You encourage me to work The way you look at me sometimes gives me the courage to begin to look at myself the same way With your arms tightly around me, our legs intertwined, I begin to imagine what heaven could actually be like When I'm with you, I say I love you honestly Eeach time is unique. I realize how incredibly lucky I am to have you to be loved by you every syllable is as sincere as the last You make it okay All the bad, dark, sorrow filled places within me that sometimes consume my light. You accept those places, You make me forget they even exist You make my light shine brighter We joke about my ego but since you have been in my life, I feel okay Even when I'm not, I know I will be. Granted, it's not solely what you do for me but what you let me do for you You allow me to love you Accepting my love welcoming it like you would a long lost friend you do not turn and hide you embrace me with arms open wide It's magical It's what I've waited for my whole life What I spent so much energy convincing myself I could never have It's everything that I'd ever want and more It's love It's life It's you

0

Feb 11, 2014

Feb 11, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC

It's you

To tell you exactly, specifically, precisely why I love you I'd have to reinvent an alphabet, create a language, learn to sign The feeling that bubbles within when I look into your eyes cannot be captured or explained I feel like the world stops moving My breath struggles leaving my lungs All my fears, worries, washed away What is so powerful about loving you is the way you love me in return I feel confident, unstoppable, beautiful You tell all the dark parts inside to quiet whispering, no shouting to them: I am worthy of love To be worthy is all that I have ever wanted, needed, cried for in the middle of the night Although there is still so much to learn about each other Adventures to be had, moments to share I am giddy with anticipation your love gives me strength Replenishes me Fulfills me I have yet to really write down how I feel about you until now I've been afraid words would take our magic away I'd wake up one morning and realize is was a mere dream You steal my chapstick with your kisses Put up with my sassy abrasive nature You encourage me to work The way you look at me sometimes gives me the courage to begin to look at myself the same way With your arms tightly around me, our legs intertwined, I begin to imagine what heaven could actually be like When I'm with you, I say I love you honestly Eeach time is unique. I realize how incredibly lucky I am to have you to be loved by you every syllable is as sincere as the last You make it okay All the bad, dark, sorrow filled places within me that sometimes consume my light. You accept those places, You make me forget they even exist You make my light shine brighter We joke about my ego but since you have been in my life, I feel okay Even when I'm not, I know I will be. Granted, it's not solely what you do for me but what you let me do for you You allow me to love you Accepting my love welcoming it like you would a long lost friend you do not turn and hide you embrace me with arms open wide It's magical It's what I've waited for my whole life What I spent so much energy convincing myself I could never have It's everything that I'd ever want and more It's love It's life It's you

55

Death. I think about you often My chest begins to tighten Holding the thought still in my mind No more Nothing All will cease Trying to swallow the ocean Counting the grass Unfathomable. Like a computer screen that has shut Off. For eternity. My computer screen. Not the one I use now No The far more superior one in my brain. I wonder about you, My computer You worry Me Sometimes you stretch for the off button yourself Loosening the batteries Trying to convince the drink To spill all over your screen Sometimes Dearest Computer, You try and off yourself.

0

Nov 2, 2013

Nov 2, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC

A metaphor

Death. I think about you often My chest begins to tighten Holding the thought still in my mind No more Nothing All will cease Trying to swallow the ocean Counting the grass Unfathomable. Like a computer screen that has shut Off. For eternity. My computer screen. Not the one I use now No The far more superior one in my brain. I wonder about you, My computer You worry Me Sometimes you stretch for the off button yourself Loosening the batteries Trying to convince the drink To spill all over your screen Sometimes Dearest Computer, You try and off yourself.

25