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Oct 21 · 26
cabin
ali Oct 21
if there’s a will
there’s a way to a place unscathed
where the willows grow unbothered
and the fortress of destitute
is the safest space to lay
where reclusion is a promise
of pleasure not punishment
and a herd of deers
is a kindred comfort
the most
if any
i just want to live in the woods by a lake and listen to evermore on vinyl lol
Oct 20 · 23
thumbprint
ali Oct 20
there’s a half empty suitcase by the doorframe
damp footsteps echo from the hallway
they mark the hardwood floors
the way ink stains fingertips
a deep dark violet
lightened only by serpentine strokes
revealing a singular identity
knock knock
I am me
invariably
Sep 10 · 195
Collateral Damage
ali Sep 10
If I was in your way
Why didn’t you just say so
Just toss me to the side
And head north

Instead you took me along with you
Kicked me across the street
Dragged me through the dirt
Until the air in me had deflated

Until you got to your destination
Until I had served you my purpose
Until you left me just as you’d found me —
In the way, now flat and lifeless
Sep 1 · 27
Pendulum
ali Sep 1
Once again, September has come.
And just like that, the air thickens
Like the year before this
And the one before that.

Only this stubborn September
Marches in heavy-footed, loud-mouthed
Like a fascist on a podium, claiming comic Uncertainties behind a lectern

For the hopeful to hear —
The wide-eyed, rose-colored seekers.
We are silver bobs hanging on a wire,
Stricken by Achilles himself.

It is December soon.
By then, our ankles will be sore,
Our heels pierced,
Our pockets empty.

The arrows come shooting
Like eagles on a mission,
As we swing endlessly
Back and forth,

Suspended from a fixed point —
Praying that time,
Hoping that gravity
Makes the clacking stop at once.
Jun 26 · 36
furniture
ali Jun 26
if tables could talk
they’d echo all the life I once knew
they’d tell you I take my coffee black
and my friends seriously
they’d chant the names I no longer call
and share the stories I no longer tell
if chairs could speak
they’d say I sit with my legs crossed
right over the left
they’d tell you how my feet burn when I sing
how my hands tremble when I dance
how the world spins ever valiantly
around the four corners of this couch
where I lay on nights the bed feels too vacant
if stairs could scream
they’d yell from heights I never could take
and count the steps I never did make
Jun 4 · 68
release
ali Jun 4
there’s a softness to the drumming of a breath
the halting of the chest at the top of an inhalation
the release that follows shortly after

there’s a loudness to the crying of a soul
darkness exudes at journey’s end
or is it the other way around?

still, heaven falls at every whisper of your name
no matter how sharp or faint
and while ashes rise and rise, I sigh until
the last, the very last complaint
May 20 · 47
The Mansion
ali May 20
There’s a house at the end of the road
between the oak and the willow
with a gate too high to ever see what’s inside
and a living room too large to fill.

In every barren room,
there patiently lies
windows that cry — to be kicked open,
and balconies that talk — only to each other.

There’s a thin line between being
too roomy and too lonely. Space
has the damning ability
to make such distinction.

Perhaps the real luxury
after all
is to live loudly amidst intolerable noise
than to perish placidly in deafening silence.
May 16 · 32
Barbed Wires
ali May 16
When I grow up,
I want to wake up alone each morning.
I want the air to be so quiet,
I can hear the wordless tunes
the birds sing to each other
from distant branches
and barbed wires,
every last note.

Silence never scared me,
neither did solitude.
What frightens me most is
finding comfort in the noise.
If one day, you find me
in a crowded hallway —
not wanting to die,
**** me right then.

When I grow up,
I want to wake each morning alone.
Though sometimes I forget,
I’m already grown.
May 16 · 36
Isn’t It Ironic?
ali May 16
I am an irony.
The medics often call it
an emergency.

Though I assume, the poets
would argue and claim it
a masterpiece.

To call it as it is,
I prefer the term
tragedy.

Moronically,
I am a walking clock
ticking until

the time is up.
A camera clicking
until the film is out.

I am a miracle
and ten.
An excuse for a daughter.

A waste of a warm seat.
Extra space in the luggage,
never a carry-on.

I am the embodiment
of sand
drifting through the desert.

A pebble stuck in a shoe.
A wet sock with a hole at the end.
As inconvenient as may be,

I am
a testimony.
A promise

waiting to be met.
A memory
that hasn’t happened yet.
May 10 · 52
Recess
ali May 10
I know now how it feels
the way schoolboys feel
when wistful winds come
to visit the playground
The ache down my spine
The ballooning in my left chest pocket
How could I not have known
the way of the schoolgirl
The skip in your skirt
The tails of your pig
There’s a pink pony tightly ribboning
a pinch in my waist, air
is a luxury when relics of you feed me from the inside out, you
are a commodity — the only food fit to fill the hollow pit in my stomach, I
crave only for you
when the recess bell rings
I had never known excitement like this before.
Apr 28 · 48
Colossal
ali Apr 28
Remnants of your voice
stain the words
that compose my verses —

as bitter residue sits
at the floor of a cup
once the coffee’s finished.

Echoes of your name
even from a distance
burn the hoods of my ears —

as relentless ringing
ruptures eardrums
after explosions.

The damage you left is colossal —
perpetuated to remind me
there was once you.
I sometimes wonder if this was your intention.
Apr 28 · 447
no. 11 (elements)
ali Apr 28
I owe all my life
to the light from my window
don't tell the wind though
air is quite necessary
but the sun is essential
Apr 3 · 145
perpetually haunted
ali Apr 3
as branches bend
and seas extend
the bees still
buzz in the garden

as winter falls
and storms persist
the ants still
march to the hill

with tired eyes
and heavy lungs
my ghost still
roams the halls of your abyss
ali Apr 1
Mornings are meant
for quiet moments.

Birds chirp to be heard
beneath louder layers.

Windows are meant
to be kept wide open —
with the exception of rain.

Hope has the power
to heal all wounds —
with the exception of pain.
Mar 17 · 46
A song unsung
ali Mar 17
I dream about your eyes and your lips
and how your hair feels in the morning
I dream about your thighs and your hips
and how I’ll perpetually be mourning
the phantom of your gaze
the poison in your kiss
the multitude of ways
I could so easily miss
a lifetime of happiness
by choosing fear over bliss
Mar 11 · 435
no. 10
ali Mar 11
introspection is
indeed an illness, and I
a sickly woman
Mar 11 · 46
Buried Fate
ali Mar 11
I can see the path laid out for me
For now, I can taste the sweetness in the air
as the sky weeps
But one day, these earthly dwellings will hover vigorously over me
Until i’m planted firmly in the ground

I can see the path laid out for me
For now, I can hear the humming outside my window, and I sing along
But one day, the soil beneath me will call relentlessly
And I will willingly answer
every soulless summon
Until there is no one left to dig me back up,
and nothing left to stop me
Mar 10 · 157
A love not loud
ali Mar 10
The love I yearn for is quiet
Within deep, dark trenches of woodland,
she thrives
Beneath bright blue blooms of spring,
she hides
Where the soil is soaking still,
and the steps taken upon it are silent
Unseen and unheard —
Invisible to the air around her
But felt demandingly
by those within
Jan 24 · 54
Linger
ali Jan 24
Allow my ponderous hands to guide yours
And let the tips of your fingers linger
Longer along the depths of my shadowy halls
Until our souls shall meet

Lay your head boyishly on the bones of my collar
And I will rest mine tirelessly on yours
As our temples graze gracefully against one another
Until my thoughts tangle with yours
And we doze to the same dream

Press your chest firmly unto mine
And I will pull you closer
As my lungs sacrifice even the slightest huff of air
Until the spaces between us fade
Until my heart can hear the faintest whispers of your heart
And together, they beat to the same song
Dec 2020 · 67
what’s a woman to do
ali Dec 2020
if what a man wants
is to feel needed

called politely
by a nurturing nature

drawn in
by the feeling of warmth

welcomed widely
by arms that crave protection

summoned solely
by a heart that beats for security

of great use
to a girl
who is missing a couple of pieces

what then
is a woman to do
if she is already whole
Nov 2020 · 324
As The Sun Wakes
ali Nov 2020
A certain calmness
in the atmosphere
like a grasp of air
before a first kiss

A sensual sway
to the trees
as the leaves
unravel themselves

A kind of intimacy
as the streets
empty themselves
to give us privacy

A sort of solace
that does not compare
to the sight
of you setting

For when it is time
for you to go
everyone sees
and greets you goodbye

But as you wake
in the morning
you rise
just for me
I was always more of a sunrise person.
Nov 2020 · 2.2k
moon talking
ali Nov 2020
perhaps I talk too much to the moon
and don’t listen enough to the universe

for I long for a love
too extraterrestrial
to ever find on this planet

perhaps a poet’s true fate
lies in solitude

for we yearn for connection
too shakespearean
to ever survive this modern day
I turn 21 on Saturday but feel around 70 if i’m honest.
Nov 2020 · 69
to whom it may concern
ali Nov 2020
it is a privilege
to love you

and it is a pleasure
to be loved by you

are the words I wish
to someday say
Nov 2020 · 260
face shield
ali Nov 2020
as the sun rises each morning
her hand slowly reaches
into her bedside drawer
searching for a face
to flaunt that day

she was told
it is unsafe for a girl
to walk the earth unguarded
unarmed to face exposure
to unknown threats

surgically and precisely
she plasters on
a new face for a new day
a new shield to protect her barest form
from polluted air and harmful rays

as the moon reveals itself each night
so does she
picking and peeling
parts of a face that were
plastered on too tightly

with each new face
unknowingly, she strips
more and more
parts of raw skin
that were truly hers
“Wear a mask”, they said.
She said, “I wear one everyday.“
Nov 2020 · 149
the unavoidable void
ali Nov 2020
it is not uncommon to mistake
darkness for emptiness

but the absence of light
does not guarantee aloneness

it simply means
our eyes are shut
Nov 2020 · 109
tree watching
ali Nov 2020
there’s more to life
than diamonds and dior

i could stare at a tree for hours
and never get bored

hand me a pen and paper
and i could sit there fondly for days

perhaps a writer’s greatest fear
is not that she is inadequate

but that she is blissed
by the simplest of beings
Nov 2020 · 240
no. 9
ali Nov 2020
i feel as though my
joys go to waste when there’s no
one to share them with

ships could sail slyly across
the depth of my aloneness
Jun 2020 · 152
fleeting bliss
ali Jun 2020
what is seen
is temporary

and what is unseen
is eternal

but impermanence doesn’t bother me
if what i’m seeing is you
some things aren’t meant to last,
and that’s okay.
Jun 2020 · 77
What We Were Was
ali Jun 2020
We were neither a forest in flames,
nor a hurricane.
We were never meant to fight battles,
nor sail ships.

We were simply petals that bloomed
in an abandoned garden
among wilted leaves
and broken branches.

What we were, was
a longing for novelty,
a lazy attempt at loving,
a shameful excuse to feel.
Jun 2020 · 422
no. 8
ali Jun 2020
why can’t oxygen
ever be enough to feel
safe in my own skin

i just want to feel alive
unbothered by my own thoughts
i feel like my brain is constantly running a hundred miles per hour. it’s draining and exhausting, and i could really use a break from myself right about now.
ali May 2020
would you be so kind
as to burn my heart into
a pit of ashes?
perhaps pain would feel better
than the emptiness i breathe
ali May 2020
would you be so kind
as to break my heart into
a million pieces?

perhaps the pain would be worth
you loving me beforehand
May 2020 · 136
Pressed Flower
ali May 2020
I do not fear death;
I do not mean to be noble nor proud.
I simply do not dread being harvested from the soil that has unearthed me.

I have lived enough life for a lifetime.
My petals have been carefully picked
and carelessly played with;
they have wilted in woe
and blossomed again in spring.

I have travelled enough earth for a universe.
My roots have spread through fertile soil
and suffered the depths of barren land;
they have absorbed the kindness of the sun
and survived the wickedness of the rain.

I have bloomed enough beauty for a book.
My leaves have flourished in warm summers
and shrivelled in treacherous winters;
they have sprouted in spite of harsh winds
and bled the cuts of sharp knives.

I do not fear death;
I rejoice in its coming.
I await the day I am stripped
from the desolate ground
I have stood tiredly upon.

For then,
all the life and the earth and the beauty
that my petals and my roots and my leaves
have endured
can rest peacefully at last,
and lay tightly pressed
between two pages.
A pressed flower is, in the same way a painting hangs in a museum, a preservation of a lifetime of beauty.
ali May 2020
For all the air that’s in your lungs
For all the joy that is to come
For all the things that you’re alive to feel
Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal
Hayley Williams is a true poet.
May 2020 · 122
no. 5
ali May 2020
I crave connection
I’m tired of the surface
Where we find solace
Where we hide our truths beneath
Where we may never be freed
A wise man once said, “I’m tired of that fake ****.” Lol.
May 2020 · 608
no. 4 (supernova)
ali May 2020
you told me, of all
the stars in the galaxy
i was the brightest

i only believed you when
i was the first to explode
"A supernova can shine as brightly as an entire galaxy of billions of ‘normal’ stars."
Apr 2020 · 319
no. 3
ali Apr 2020
i will hold your hand
into the darkness, i will
close my eyes until
i see the light beyond the
skies, i promise you i will
Apr 2020 · 103
More
ali Apr 2020
Perhaps I am more
than the width of my hips
the depth of my throat
the length of my hair

Perhaps I am worth more
than a fleeting moment
a test of curiosity
a fraction of a stare

Perhaps one day
I will be capable of more
than love on the surface
of recycled air
Apr 2020 · 442
When The Kites Come Out
ali Apr 2020
Once death is upon us –
lingering quietly
along every corner
in nooks and crannies,
seeping blindly
through dusty door frames;

Once death shelters us –
holding us hostage
behind the mourned safety
of our very own gates,
pointing fingers at those
with whom we share our homes;

Once death isolates us –
forcing stubborn kids
to find joy
in sticks & plastics,
flying simple pleasures
in tight portions of the sky;

Only then are we
too ashamed to look up –
our necks paralyzed
by the unsettling guilt
we have called
upon ourselves.

Incapable of
basking in the beauty
of diamonds in the clouds,
we stare sorrowfully
down at the soil,
where our feet are pinned –

where we may soon lay beneath.
"There's so much beauty coming out of quarantine but it's so hard to appreciate it because there's people suffering, and it makes me feel guilty."

A good friend of mine told me he saw kites in the sky today.
He thought, "Maybe there's a sappy story out there about kites in quarantine."
I couldn't help but write one.
Mar 2020 · 175
stubborn love
ali Mar 2020
it's better to feel pain
than nothing at all

the opposite of love
is indifference
this song, man.
Mar 2020 · 602
these four walls
ali Mar 2020
i feel fragile
amidst the sea
of my unwavering thoughts

as though
to trance freely
around the world

outside these four walls
would be much,
much safer

than to linger upon
the voices
within it
Jan 2020 · 184
no. 2
ali Jan 2020
hold me in the dark
with our eyes closed and breaths deep
‘til light loses charm
You will be so much more than enough for me, even lightness will start to lack necessity.
Dec 2019 · 501
no. 1
ali Dec 2019
i want my soul to
tangle up with yours and find
comfort in chaos

— The End —