paene-vivit - Hello Poetry

the more i open up to love the more i remember why i do not allow myself its folly: what they have had and what they shall want, i have never been privy to and i can not give, for my hubris is to feel love and to want to give it but not be fortunate enough to make one reciprocate; i was broken before. or i would argue i was made to break.

0

Jun 9, 2024

Jun 9, 2024 at 9:54 AM UTC

almost

the more i open up to love the more i remember why i do not allow myself its folly: what they have had and what they shall want, i have never been privy to and i can not give, for my hubris is to feel love and to want to give it but not be fortunate enough to make one reciprocate; i was broken before. or i would argue i was made to break.

14

the irony of stringing words together, not meek nor brutal— is that it feels as if you relieve yourself of a burden, and yet also ripping your flesh, wounds both old and recent; clawed open to be felt. a willing martyrdom, or a frivolous act.

0

May 31, 2024

May 31, 2024 at 4:53 PM UTC

!?!?

the irony of stringing words together, not meek nor brutal— is that it feels as if you relieve yourself of a burden, and yet also ripping your flesh, wounds both old and recent; clawed open to be felt. a willing martyrdom, or a frivolous act.

13

i love you, but it is the worst that i can do— to burden you with yearning, my love is nothing but pesteration. you deserve the world, and even more of it; i apologize for my frailty, but if the day comes that i find myself worthy to love: i hope you accept this gift and cherish it; i seek of nothing in return. yet, in the end, i could only hide the myriad of things i want to say in words, haphazardly, and hope you see what it was that i had to tell.

0

May 27, 2024

May 27, 2024 at 9:17 PM UTC

always lovesick

i love you, but it is the worst that i can do— to burden you with yearning, my love is nothing but pesteration. you deserve the world, and even more of it; i apologize for my frailty, but if the day comes that i find myself worthy to love: i hope you accept this gift and cherish it; i seek of nothing in return. yet, in the end, i could only hide the myriad of things i want to say in words, haphazardly, and hope you see what it was that i had to tell.

20

interesting to see how i grew up and came to be; what i wrote, how i spoke. no one euphemism fits yet i shall try to describe: like a reptile that shed its skin and kept it, like a keepsake, which at one time was cherished but now left to weather by the windowsill. like seeing the scars from the wounds you know you dealt yourself, ones you still call beautiful despite all the horror. it's the closest to seeing how angsty and in your head you were, how you felt everything, even the nothing, how you so desperately wanted to crawl out of your skin, and you still sometimes do. you read those words and feel like those words were never yours. but they are. at least now you know you've changed; not where you wanted to be, but farther than where you once were; and that, i think, is beautiful.

0

May 2, 2024

May 2, 2024 at 1:30 AM UTC

Wince

interesting to see how i grew up and came to be; what i wrote, how i spoke. no one euphemism fits yet i shall try to describe: like a reptile that shed its skin and kept it, like a keepsake, which at one time was cherished but now left to weather by the windowsill. like seeing the scars from the wounds you know you dealt yourself, ones you still call beautiful despite all the horror. it's the closest to seeing how angsty and in your head you were, how you felt everything, even the nothing, how you so desperately wanted to crawl out of your skin, and you still sometimes do. you read those words and feel like those words were never yours. but they are. at least now you know you've changed; not where you wanted to be, but farther than where you once were; and that, i think, is beautiful.

22

it's been a while since i wrote anything, it's been a while since we last spoke. maybe you have things better for you now; maybe you don't. no matter how it goes, no matter the ebb and flow, you're still welcome here. or, i think, i'll always be here.

0

May 2, 2024

May 2, 2024 at 1:06 AM UTC

passing thought

it's been a while since i wrote anything, it's been a while since we last spoke. maybe you have things better for you now; maybe you don't. no matter how it goes, no matter the ebb and flow, you're still welcome here. or, i think, i'll always be here.

9

like reuniting with an old friend; uncovering things kept bust lost to time— seemingly returning to whence before, painting hurt with words and rhyme. a fragment, still part of a whole, perhaps losing some was part of the course; the spark inside, still enough to combust: neither solace nor somber, a dwelling force.

0

Jan 22, 2022

Jan 22, 2022 at 8:27 PM UTC

Re

like reuniting with an old friend; uncovering things kept bust lost to time— seemingly returning to whence before, painting hurt with words and rhyme. a fragment, still part of a whole, perhaps losing some was part of the course; the spark inside, still enough to combust: neither solace nor somber, a dwelling force.

8

the walls have heard: things you haven't, the scars tell more than you could ever speak. the bruises know more than you could ever muster; how i cried without tears and screamed without a voice.

0

Jul 29, 2020

Jul 29, 2020 at 8:55 PM UTC

rue

the walls have heard: things you haven't, the scars tell more than you could ever speak. the bruises know more than you could ever muster; how i cried without tears and screamed without a voice.

8

what transpires here are things that have just arrived; none of them kept baggage, or maybe some. might i be given the benefit of the doubt? why must i still hear the very same demons? saying too much or too little; or both, different on each ear; why must the dark feel like soothe, when those who i call home fear it? maybe time will yield, and to good things, tell; what there is to triumph, what stars are there to align.

0

May 6, 2020

May 6, 2020 at 1:16 PM UTC

Value

what transpires here are things that have just arrived; none of them kept baggage, or maybe some. might i be given the benefit of the doubt? why must i still hear the very same demons? saying too much or too little; or both, different on each ear; why must the dark feel like soothe, when those who i call home fear it? maybe time will yield, and to good things, tell; what there is to triumph, what stars are there to align.

20

I guess, it's selfish: Not going back where it first began. So I shoot blindly, in the dark, Hoping that anyone would remember. I have never been complete, But i feel like a part of home is here.

0

Dec 21, 2019

Dec 21, 2019 at 7:32 PM UTC

Hello?

I guess, it's selfish: Not going back where it first began. So I shoot blindly, in the dark, Hoping that anyone would remember. I have never been complete, But i feel like a part of home is here.

6

i overthink things; my head gives me no other choices. what is silence can be a murmuring only i cannot understand. what is darkness can be a monster lurking, waiting for me to fall into bait; what is accidental can be a scheme that someone planned, and planted. ... what was a missed reply due circumstance can be just avoiding me, what is a glance can be a glower; someone scheming. what are words can be disguised as something sinister; what are things can be triggers pulling more than the other, what are things can be painful can be my death i overthink too much.

0

Mar 27, 2019

Mar 27, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC

What

i overthink things; my head gives me no other choices. what is silence can be a murmuring only i cannot understand. what is darkness can be a monster lurking, waiting for me to fall into bait; what is accidental can be a scheme that someone planned, and planted. ... what was a missed reply due circumstance can be just avoiding me, what is a glance can be a glower; someone scheming. what are words can be disguised as something sinister; what are things can be triggers pulling more than the other, what are things can be painful can be my death i overthink too much.

29