If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 12:12 AM UTC
_“I dont know”_
was my response
when you asked me if
I still love you
the world stopped
for the both of us
as I wondered on the thought
of me, being selfish
or being true
and yours upon the
realization that
_maybe, just maybe_
my love for you
is fleeting
neither of us was speaking
and the silence echoed
through the depths of my head
and you uttered
_‘oh’_
that moment, I knew
that you gave up
on me, and my inner
indecisiveness
I crumbled upon
the guilt of telling you
those words, so instead
I let my tongue do
the talking and said
_'maybe'_
cause it was never hard to say
but it is always hard to face
the reality of being responsible
to someone
as if I have to breathe
through somebody’s pair of lungs
and scratch the loneliness
with someone else’s fingers
we parted
I changed numbers
cause I had to stay afloat
on the clouds of solitude
free from attachments.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 10:27 PM UTC
His "I love you" came swiftly.
Like the monsoon pouring down on a leaky roof
Those three words broke through my defences.
At first they were an ambrosia;
They sustained my life and our relationship.
At least for a short time.
Then "I love you" became an excuse;
For absences, and purpose-filled accidents.
And I ignored the warning signs, the flashing lights.
I pretended like "I love you" was enough...
...But it wasn't.
His "I love you"s were like band-aids on bullet wounds;
Like using play dough to fix cracks in concrete walls.
But I rationed our good memories,
I held on as tight as I could to our love
And watched as it slipped through my fingers.
His "I love you"s became poison,
That seeped deep into my bones,
And turned blue skies grey,
And turned light into darkness,
And slowly killed whatever semblance of love
I fooled myself into thinking we had left.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC
Having Depression is like finding out that mermaids are real
It doesn’t make sense to you until you’re getting dragged to the bottom of the ocean
And then you think
Oh
That’s what this is
And I’m drowning now,
That’s just……… great
And eventually, with your last vestiges of breath left
You float back to the surface
And you’re fine.
And that’s it.
Mermaids stop existing again.
Because you never actually saw what grabbed you
You only felt the claws around your leg
The cold, clammy hands tugging
With a force that you could never fight against
But you never saw her
So it was all a dream
Right?
And it happens again and again
You are drowning again and again
Until the water begins to feel like home
And the only thing reminding you that you are alive
Is the burning in your lungs
And when everything you had balanced so very carefully starts falling
Off the shelves of your life
When your “mild” depression starts deciding it wants to be more
When being alone makes you feel dead inside
And when losing your cool for one ******* second makes you contemplate your own demise
When do you admit to yourself that you are slipping
You are sinking and just because you can slow your descent
Does not mean that you’re not still drowning
And at the end of the day just because it took you longer to get there this time
Doesn’t mean you aren’t still lying on the ocean floor
Devoid of light and sound
And if you had just climbed onto that now distant boat and sailed away
You’d be fine.
But climbing was too hard
And sinking is so much easier
And you’re scared that if you reach out
Your hands will feel clammy and cold
As they wrap around your friends throats
And drag them down with you
And you would rather rot at the bottom of an endless sea
Than let that happen
So you lie in darkness and wait
For a sound
The singular resounding sound
Of failure
And you slowly float back to the surface
Take a deep breath
And you’re fine.
Because mermaids aren’t real
It’s all in your head
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who am I?
I couldn't tell you.
I am a shapeshifter.
I have many hues.
My emotions depend
on the feedback of you.
If you love me,
I will shine.
If you play coy,
so will I.
Hurt me,
go ahead and try.
I will turn dark
and blend into the night.
You'll never know
what character I am.
You'll never know
because I don't even know
who I am.
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 8:27 AM UTC
Dear depression
I'm writing to let you know
That I don't have anything else to give
You took away all my hope
What more do you want of me
The few breaths that I take?
They're not even for me I swear
I just don't want them to break
The ones who still care about me
Somehow you weren't able to push them away
I guess they're stronger than I'll ever be
But I don't want you to make them ache
Hurt me bruise me take my soul
But let my body here
For them , not me , I'm miserable at my best
But I can't let them live in fear
Dear depression
Please subside
We can live together
Just don't make me die
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 7:21 AM UTC
Don't worry, love,
I know those gates of stone
stand firmly
to guard the most precious parts
of your soul.
I am not here like the others;
not as a warrior
planning a siege
or a strategist
plotting to knock them down.
I respect your walls too much.
You have fought in more wars
than most;
you have been betrayed by more loves
than most could survive -
your walls are the result
of your scars.
So here I stand before you,
my weapons laid down,
my intentions spread out before the Sun,
with nothing in my hands
but open palms,
asking you
to let me in.
Show me, love,
all those terrible,
beautiful
wild flowers
growing in your garden -
I want to do nothing
but paint them to remember,
and carry their fallen petals
safely in my heart.
Open up to me, please,
my love -
I am already yours.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 8:13 AM UTC
I'm scared of the tears
that I don't cry
The days like this
that I don't die
I'm scared of the pain
that slips my mind
It comes back harder
than what I left behind
©
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because the last time I opened up to someone artistically they told me it was pretty dark and I should keep it to myself.
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because I was raised in a culture that was anti love and pro meaningless *** I saw endless commercials about movies that glamorize a lifestyle in which your body is fulfilled but your heart is ignored and at that impressionable age I learned my heart came second but my allure came first and the less I cared that happier I would be and I carried that belief around with me the way I used to carry around a Bible as a child.
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because of the time that I opened my father’s phone to reveal a family secret I would hold to this day against my own moral instincts unraveling miles of insecurities wondering if I’m not a good enough daughter or if he stopped loving my mother or if true love was never real and although I had been taught marriage was my purpose, it was what I believed would make me happy, maybe rings aren’t enough to stay in love and maybe people’s feelings change and maybe no one actually has a “one true love” and that this purpose I had been taught was really an endless wild goose chase that only lead to broken families and lost souls.
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because sometimes I still wonder why I fell into an abyss of toxicity at such a young age. And when I say wonder I don’t mean a trivial ponder, I mean I contemplate every possible reason why the person who I once believed held the universe in her eyes would lie to my face, why she never kissed me in public and our love was always a secret, why she valued girls with blue hair but my blonde hair was not good enough, why I had to hide bruises from my family when I was still in high school or more importantly, why at the time, I thought I deserved them. These thoughts, this lingering paranoia that I am undeserving of healthy love, they muddy my interpretations of real life and distort reality and effect my relationships. My doctor would call these intrusive thoughts, my best friend would tell me they’re symptoms of PTSD, but I have come to realize that I’ve been burned and I am damaged and I hope to god I can recover.
But you,
Oh god, you
You can write this poem. You can be my safety net while I’m free falling in love. You can be the one to listen to my mental tilt-a-whirls, you can be the one that introduces my body and my heart, you can be the one that calms the storms in my mind when I’m questioning the love I’m deserving of. You are the one who makes sure I fall asleep in my bed after drunk nights, you are the one that still sees my value after acknowledging my flaws.
You can write this poem.
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 10:35 AM UTC