How poems are made
"poetry is so difficult, but at the same time, I was saving my life when I wrote"
Poems, like dreams deal with leftover feelings.
Therapy
Addresses the issue of decision making and the resultant gain or loss
Poetry offers a way for the victim to express herself while at the same time maintaining control over what to keep to herself and what to share.
poetry saves lives.
Why poems are made
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
My love for you was like having an ocean on my back and the tide always pulling me in but it was okay because I no longer had fear and I developed the ability to swim
My love for you was like having a bookstore on my back and every source to define the beauty of what we had
My love for you was like having nothing and content with everything
X
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
I'm doubting
all my friends again
They say
I'm obsessed again but I'm not
I've never been obsessed
I'm used to being "just friends"
I tend
to forget names
I tend
To forget feelings
I tend
To pretend often
I tend
To pretend often
Now I'm sorry I forgot
That you have feelings too
You never quite mentioned it
We're misunderstood
But hey I just remembered
And oh I'm sorry angel
I'm sorry I forget things that should be remembered
I should've never listened to your friend
I thought that it'd be us until the end
But I mean yes we do pretend
But I mean how can we not pretend?
You seemed really sure when you left me
Made me feel like you had somebody
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 4:16 PM UTC
There was nothing charming about him.
She did not give a care about his stupid hairline or his shining armored teeth.
She did not give a care about his pearly white horse or his tin foiled armor.
There was something about him which she absolutely despised
maybe it was the way she was forced to be with him or the way that she did not care for him.
She shared interest for someone better.
“Once upon a time…”
She was tired of feeling forced.
She was tired of being sold.
He was no good for her either.
Sincerity was nothing he wanted for himself or for her.
“Once upon a time…”
They both met at the pond prior to being married
Both reached for their rings and threw them
into the crystal blue water…
As the metals hit the water— a rainbow appeared.
Once upon a time…
He met his price charming and she met her confused princess
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
When it comes to a conversation with you
I wish the days would never end
The necessity of sleep disregarded
When we talk—
Our words could waltz in the ballrooms
of our minds
serving as our music.
I’ll take a step and you’ll take yours
unless we are both terrible dancers
terrible talkers
and when feeling must remain silent
there is no true melody
to keep me from shouting
“I wish you’d talk to me some day!”
but there is always silence:
we look down as we pass each other by.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
GOODNIGHT SLEEP WEL—
delete text
Good nig—
delete text
type
type
Hi how ar—
delete text
The phone chimed
I forget to mute
“Hey, I miss you!”
Read at 3:34 AM
Do Not Disturb
I like a good crescent moon
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC
Days will pass you by
you’ll ask it to slow
but how can anything slow
you haven't gotten the flow
to tell
when it is time to go fast
when it is time to say goodbye
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:36 PM UTC
She writes poetry
Because she often finds herself talking in a room full of people and yet her words bounce from the wall and she's hoping that one day those very same words will embrace her tightly
she writes poetry
Because she still hears an echo when she speaks in a stadium full of rowdy fans
She writes poetry because when she sits in a blank room and hears:
"and how do you feel about that?"
she knows that her feelings are not worth $150 a session
Her feelings are not worth a strong dose of medication
Her feelings are like the California drought
People are aware of the damage but continue to leave the water on hoping it'll just "wash away"
But problems just don't wash away
Problems are meant to be fixed
And people should never feel like feelings are problems because feelings are free
They don't need a solution
I write poetry because I am not afraid of feeling sad
I write poetry because I refrain of treating my feelings like they are some type of disease
I write poetry because I am she and she is me and it's perfectly fine to feel alone as long as I can call the blank paper drenched in my words
My home
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
I’ll check on you 2378 clicks a day
I’m not obsessed
I really like that glow on your face
The glow you get from your screen
when you’re talking to me
I’m sorry that I cannot teleport to your room each time I think of you
I’m sorry that I ask Siri
every 2 hours
“Does she love me?”
Only to hear—
“I’m afraid I cannot answer that.”
I’ve memorized all our old messages like a script
I say I love you
you say you love me too
I say I love you more you say
you love me more than the most
We were the lead actors…
The stars of an unexplainable love-story
Gliding on a red carpet
Bright red
as the hearts that bubbled above us each time I rested my lips on your lips
except it was no act
When I’m typing on my phone
every thought is about how my fingers used to touch that skin of yours
Type type type
“I miss you”
Don’t send.
Type type
Delete.
I’ve called you about 13 times
The ringing in my ears has become my new favorite soundtrack.
It’s just a lovely piece it goes from 5 rings to: “please leave a message after the beep” and that’s when I shed a tear
I ask
why did I meet you at this time when technology is taking over true contact?
Where did I go wrong?
why us?
Will our love ever exist again?
Can our ****** technology tell me the future?
"I’m sorry but the answer to your question is not available please hang up or try again…. Goodbye."
The message has been running for 32 minutes and 54 seconds
I’ll hang up
I’ll try again
Goodbye
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC