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Feb 26 · 92
learning to swim
Antares Cliff Feb 26
I think I resent my parents.

I dont want to say hate, it’s too strong of a word. But I dont think I can comfortably say I like who they are as people. I thought that with all the conversations I had with my mum I healed and I grew out of this. I grew up and I wasn’t the child that wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t the child that wasn’t smart enough. I wasn’t the child who wasn’t pretty enough. I thought  I grew up and achieved all of that. But from the shore, it doesn’t seem so anymore.

I think I grew up and I hid myself. I grew up and I wasn’t obligated to tell them anything anymore. I wasn’t obligated to listen and I wasn’t obligated to perform to their opinion. I think in the meantime that worked great. But looking from where I stand now, I think my parents hurt me in so many ways I didn’t even realise I was carrying with me today.

The way my parents raised me, and as they proudly claim, an 'independent' and 'critical' person. Looking on it now, I think my parents abandoned me. Their idea of creating an independent thinker was throwing me into the deep end and waiting for me to learn to swim. I suppose I did learn to swim, but I think after a while I learned to float and when you float there’s this perfect level when you’re facing the sky but your ears are underwater and you can’t hear any more. After a while of floating I realised I was tall enough to get out of the water, but not old enough to leave. So I sat there and I watched other waters, I watched my siblings learn to swim and just sat by the edge.  

I think watching how everyone else learns to swim and comparing it against the way I learned nestled something in me. I was jealous for a while, seeing how everyone else enjoyed swimming but to me it was conserving enough energy to stay afloat. But when I looked back into my own waters, and saw my parents jumping into the pool with siblings, giving them floaties and letting them hold the railing instead, that’s when the anger started to build.

And when anger comes it doesn’t leave as easily. For me, anger raised my ears out of the water and what I thought was my lack of ability to feel, to experience love, happiness, sadness and grief turned out to be my own coping mechanism of surviving the open waters my parents threw me into, instead of the chlorinated and temperature controlled waters my younger siblings got. As I was floating, it wasn’t just my hearing that I had given up, I gave up my ability to feel and replaced it with an intellectualised from of surface level emotion.

And now sitting on the shore, with my feet facing my sea and looking back at the pool my parents now prefer, I realise I am alone. And so now when they call me over to sit amongst them, to drink some tea or share their sunscreen I realise they will never know how the hurt and the damage they put into me, as independency and critical thinking.

It’s not that I’m just different and feel emotions differently. It’s not that I grew up faster than I should. Its not that i dont think i can ever learn to trust. It’s not that I didn’t have lovely sunny days on the beach my parents gave me. The hurt I carry with me is in the waves that toppled me before I could see them coming. Its the rip tides that caught me as I tried to rejoin my parents on that shore. The hurt I carry is in the waves that I tried to use to push myself back to their shores, only to reach their backs, or their calls to keep trying, and go for more!

As I watched their backs, I think that’s when I started to learn the dynamic of the people I call my family. My father only learned to be a father, as he learnt from his failure with me. And my mother? She learnt how to be herself with me, and a mother after I didn’t need one.

Raising their first child, my father took to the only authoritative figure he knew, a teacher. And so as he raised his first child, he taught her how to grow up  in the most step by step logical method he could break it down into. And as my mother raised her first child, she did so on the puppet strings of my father. And so together, as they equipped me with all the skills I would ever need to successfully pass each stage, my parents did not yet reach the understanding that a child is different to student. A child needs love, and comfort and reassurance. A child needs a place of refuge and trust she can turn to so that if swimming becomes difficult there is always a shore she is welcome to.  What my parents raised was a student, they raised me without a shore and so I became the independent and critical graduate they always envisioned.

When you think about it like that, it worked. Their parenting acheived the exact result they were after. But as the child, as I grow up I pray to never become who they were to me. I hope to be a mother who slips out the words “I love you” just accidentally instead of as a reasoning clause. I hope to be a mother who gives hugs just because and not in apology for who she was. I hope to be a mother who gets into the water and never let's go until I know for sure.
Aug 2019 · 134
The Colour of their Love
Antares Cliff Aug 2019
day in, day out
night in, till  night out
with every sunset
and every sunrise
I watched their love
dance against the lights

their love went against the times
for in the black darkness of the nights
they made their own lights
a beautiful romance, defined by the
collusions of deep pinks and purple's
a light show joined with the deepest of reds
and the whimsical hues of orange
as they whispered to each other
confessions of their love
a sole, within each others arms

and when the twilight lights began
to light the skies
their love dimmed, fading to  melancholy blue
their blue's, a sea of sadness
a sea of separation
in which the waves were too rough
for even a boat to sail through

and then when the sky
reached its happiest blue of noon
their love, isolated
darkened to the most numb of grey
their pain a stormy sky
with silent strikes of lightning
and no thunder to match

but when the suns began to set
time began to sync
with the colours of their love
the pinks of anticipation
to see the other again

and the cycle repeated day in and day out
night in and night out
with every sunrise and sunset
the romantic within me
cried at their spectacle

it tore at me so, to see the whimsical colours
of their tragic light show
fade into the most saddest of grey
so against the wishes of my master
I helped them whisk away
and prayed the perilous boat
would sail their seas
to land where their storm may cease.
Dec 2018 · 267
Untitled
Antares Cliff Dec 2018
The trails on her face
As if permanently etched
Falling from the ever-changing
Lights if her eyes
From bright to dim
To almost gone

Falling to the point of her chin
Sloping to a halt

The trails dewey in nature
As if permanently etched to her.
Dec 2018 · 201
Art of the Storm
Antares Cliff Dec 2018
Not a painting for you to critic
Not an artwork to examine
Not a dancer for you to judge
But,
The calm before the storm
And the storm in all its works,
    The hail.
    The rain.
    The thunder.
    The lightning.

I am the wrekcage of the storm
In all its disaster
   The destruction
    The chaos

But,
I am the flourishing afterwards
     The trees.
     The water.
     The blooms.
      The life.

I am me.
In all my chaos.
With all my works.

A force
To be reckoned with.
Dec 2018 · 290
the flower in the rain
Antares Cliff Dec 2018
She wanted to be the thunder
in all its deafening presence
but like the flower in wind
the thunder blew her away
       swept her off her feet.

The boy despised thunder
Found it too attention seeking
For he saw it in the mirror every other day

But if
he turned his head
A fraction to the right
And looked out that looming window
He'd see a flower in his wind
And he'd smile
With all his thunder
At the girl below

The girl with the deafening ability
To coax out his thunder
for her to dance to
As they made their music in the rain
May 2018 · 235
The Person that I See
Antares Cliff May 2018
I think
  what I found the hardest
was to love myself
if I wasn't even
one person

I was a different person
  with different people
      and a different person
       to me

I think what I hated
  was not being loved
or maybe I was
  but just not for being
the person
   that I see

I think what hurt
was the art of never knowing
what person I would be
with all these
   different pictures
painted around me

But most of all I think
  that if I want to love
I need to love me.
  and to do that

I need to be the person
that
      I
         see.

and not who
you want me
to
be.
May 2018 · 291
Existance
Antares Cliff May 2018
he never was alone
because his words had
conquered him
quite long ago

they tickled him
they tortured him
they controlled him
they
were
    him.

they were his skin
they were his bones
his words
became
  him.

Every passing second
every engraved thought
he must
delay
    delay
         delay
  I must not think at all
  too many words
  will become too much
and too much
would shatter him
so delay his thoughts he must

but to not think
is quite harsh a predicament
it was a parasite
his words
for they controlled
   but he controlled them

it was an existence
he fought to change
but an existence he fought to remain
because it was an existence
and that remained enough
May 2018 · 182
Sorry
Antares Cliff May 2018
I'm sorry
that I was never there
for you
as you were
for me

I'm sorry
that I lost you
Before I realised
I loved you

I'm sorry
that in this apology
I'm still as selfish
as always

But most of all
I'm sorry
for never being enough
May 2018 · 223
Tell me
Antares Cliff May 2018
Can you tell me
what its like
to fall
so very deeply
in love?

can you tell me what its like
to prioritise another breath
over your own

can you tell me why
i can't  fall in love

or am a monster
born to observe
but never have
anything
that is
love.
May 2018 · 390
Tired
Antares Cliff May 2018
I'm honestly quite tired
of this game of push and pull
where I'm always the pawn
and you're always the Queen

I'm really quite exhausted
of all your extremes
of this anticipation,
as to when
or if ever-
you'll love me again

because, I haven't always been
a pawn, a toy
I haven't always been
something only yours

I had something once before
where I determined
what I was
But once upon a time
I loved you enough, to let you instead

So please, love me for me
or give me back myself
Because honestly, I'm quite tired
of such a game
as exhausting as you
Oct 2017 · 193
Happiness?
Antares Cliff Oct 2017
Through all the times
my heart has stolen
        It only seems to keep
The moments I felt so very alive
  I could die in the moment-
                             satisfied.

But why is it,
that my mind must hoard
the darkest of them all?
too dark for my heart to see,
  But cruel enough,
to poison everything else?

-my heart knew happiness before my mind ever did-
Oct 2017 · 154
Heart
Antares Cliff Oct 2017
Silly little scrawls
  on the back of notebook pages
   seem to hold, more of my heart
than I ever
                            gave out
Oct 2017 · 168
Bells
Antares Cliff Oct 2017
Why is it,
that you must lie
so very often?
You've gone too far now
  you really ought to stop.

Who is it,
that you must
lie to so very often?
is it me?
myself?
I?


Your trying to make art
with your crumbling heart
as your canvas
you really ought to stop
  who is it
that your lying to?
    you really ought to stop
Sep 2017 · 257
L e t G o
Antares Cliff Sep 2017
Are you wasted?
        or gone?
                I dearly hope not.

Because,
                  I fear that I
                   have begun
                             to depend
                                         o n   y o u.

Don't waste away
            I beg you
             stay a little more
                      long enough
                            for me
                               To   l e t  g o .
I started this poem talking about my pen.
Sep 2017 · 226
Demons
Antares Cliff Sep 2017
Why do you catch me when I fall,
     but laugh when I stumble

Why do you say you love me,
     only to run away

Why do you only care only in my dark
      but harm me in my light

Is it me that you treasure,
Or the demons that you love?
Sep 2017 · 179
A Hole Forevermore.
Antares Cliff Sep 2017
We all have our own mazes
each a different complexity

but why is mine
  a single enclosed square
all diamond, and no door

Just a hole below
To wonder another's maze
Forevermore.
Sep 2017 · 181
There
Antares Cliff Sep 2017
If you were there for me
as I was there for you
I may have loved you
  more than I could bear

But with your flimsy heart
  you loved the picture me
the picture me you loved
with all your selfish needs

But you make me doubt again
whether I understand this love
or just simply love at all
Sep 2017 · 166
Why?
Antares Cliff Sep 2017
Why me?


Because I'm already searching for you
Because I'm already in your maze
Because I knocked on your door
  and you let me in
   stole the key
   and ran away.

Now let me find you.
Sep 2017 · 167
Because
Antares Cliff Sep 2017
Because it's all I can do
And If you don't let me,
I'll have no worth,
I'll crumble as I search
Because I'll always be there

In someone else's maze

Just don't let me crumble in vain.
Please.
Sep 2017 · 172
Game
Antares Cliff Sep 2017
How  many more times
are we going to play this game,
Of liar liar pants on fire

Because I think I've lost the rules sheet.

And I'm lost now
your all taunting me from the sidelines.
Please end the game, I need to find someone.

I need to find someone, because I can't be found
So please help me
Find you.
Sep 2017 · 153
Maze
Antares Cliff Sep 2017
I already have,
        I'll always be looking
You just have to let me find you
This is an actual conversation I had with someone. She let me find her, I'm overjoyed.
Aug 2017 · 205
Edge
Antares Cliff Aug 2017
It was the little things
that pushed her to the edge
The exaggeration of an issue
  or the complete ignorance
The worthlessness of her words
  or the praised, thrown back worth

Blissful contradiction? I think not.
Aug 2017 · 269
The Sensation of Hands
Antares Cliff Aug 2017
It always started
with the sensation of
                      hands
they clawed at each other
enough to draw blood
till she lost sensation of all
                      but hands.

The rain fell,
from the storm no too high above
But little did she notice
because-    the sensation of
            hands.

Her soul was ripping
She was dying
Her eyes raining
Her body shattering
but-

         The Sensation of Hands.
Aug 2017 · 167
Flowers of Worth
Antares Cliff Aug 2017
He'd been running for days
trampling every flower he could

  He despised flowers you see,
they proved no purpose
no worth.
But they  loved flowers more than him
he had worth, at least more than flowers-
                                    didn't he?
Aug 2017 · 163
Floating
Antares Cliff Aug 2017
Floating,
  she wasn't living
                 laughing
            crying
She was floating,
It was a trivial life
nonexistent-  
                     floating.
Aug 2017 · 158
A Decision?
Antares Cliff Aug 2017
to live,  to die
  she mustn't decide
for it isn't her
  decision to make

or is it?
Dec 2016 · 514
Nobody Saw
Antares Cliff Dec 2016
From the storm of his eyes
he made an ocean for all life
but nobody spent time
to hold the ground beneath the storm
Nobody tried to contain the falling ocean
but let it fall, sea by sea
but then again, nobody saw

From his hurricane of words
Did the truth come aboard
nobody listened, nobody heard
he was forced to contain his own hurricane
nobody attempted to calm the wind to a breeze
or show the direction to blow in
but let it push his world further from reach
but then again nobody saw

He ran around on the ground
on the ground
picking every dandelion he saw
he picked the dead, he picked the new
nobody waited after him
held a vase to place them in
but let them fall, onto the ground
decaying as they did
through a bottomless pit
but then again nobody saw

From a rip in the sky,
the sun dripped till it burned
he savoured the burning
till he felt it no more
but nobody held the clouds to help the dying sun
but let it leak and leak till light became dark
but then again nobody saw

So he did not save,
the water
the wind
the dead dandelions
the light
and they did not know
but then again, nobody saw.
Dec 2016 · 533
Blank Canvas
Antares Cliff Dec 2016
In the end, her own storm went against her
leaving her thrashing
eyes burning white hot
A flickering fire,but faster
moving with desperation
her eyes alight, she thrashed
as the hurricane in her mind
screeched, screamed and blared
a single thought
I must make art.

Her mind, too vast
Her horizons extending to no end
her thoughts, her words
her dreams, her fears
at the slightest stir
became a storm

She dared to attempt
to capture her storm
to the blank canvas
that even at the end
remained blank

the most she could do
was try to capture the colours
in the right shade
but she couldn't let her mind expand into the paper
for her soul had taken over
but her heart kept to itself
saving the best for last

But her burning goal
remained the same

Her mind- a raging Hurricane
Her soul- an everlasting darkness
Her Heart- a flickering flame
But in her glass body
she held it in
till she fell in shards

together they leapt and thrashed
while she perfected the colours of her storm
only to repeat them
as she failed to express
the explicitness of what she contained

In the end, it was her own storm that went against her
in the end, her soul was too vast to be contained
In the end, her her heart was too hot to keep contained

In the end, her soul was too dark to be contained
in the glass body

she ran to the rain
and let out her soul
and let out her heart
and let out her mind
and laughed wickedly

the storm worsened
the trees burned
and the light didn't shine,
for a long time

but she laughed and laughed
till her shards fell
at her
nonexistent feet.

In the end
her art remained
a blank canvas
next to
a perfect palette.
Dec 2016 · 242
Light of the Stars
Antares Cliff Dec 2016
When you asked me to name
What I valued most
My head tilted
To the canvas sky
And I failed to suppress
The thought of your eyes
Which shone brighter
than all the stars combined

I couldn't understand
I failed to comprehend
How no one else saw
How no one else realised
His eyes
All colours in one
Which
Despite all matters
All falls and pits,
All trapdoors and declines
Constantly shone
With radiance that never faltered

But he faded
Slowly,
Slowly, but surely
So I clung harder
And yet he managed to slip
Through the cracks
between my frail fingers

And from him
I learned
Beautiful things aren’t meant
to last nearly long enough

Beauty is best kept for memories
To hide the  cruelty
Rotting the wondrous
Stealing the beautiful

When you told me to describe
the ugliest sight  had observed
The first thing that came to mind
was the way your hand would wrap itself around the bottle
And how your eyes would roll back in undisturbed bliss
As you emptied it down your throat

When you told me to express
the worst feeling in the world
The problem was,
I had no word to describe
the rush of hurt and pain
that would choke my lungs
When the sound of the slamming door
That would resound
within the place
we had once called home

When you told me to name
my favourite thing in the world
I looked up to the sky
and couldn’t help but notice
That as bright as the stars were
The flicker, the pulse in your eyes would transcend them every time

When you told me to describe
the prettiest sight  could ever witness
The first thing that came to mind
was the way
you would throw your head back and laugh
And how your eyes would light up
Better than the midnight stars
That would gleam in the midnight sky

When you told me to express
the greatest feeling in the world
The problem was,
There was no word to describe
the overwhelming feeling
that would seep into my veins
When the sound of your melodious laugh
would ring in my ears, echoing and echoing

When you told me to name
the worst thing in the world
I looked up at the sky
and couldn’t help but notice
That the darkness of the sky
Would rival the emptiness in your eyes

Even gone,
the stars could never transcend his eyes
And I doubt that anything
would glow with the same radiance
As he did.
Dec 2016 · 298
His Wish to Remake.
Antares Cliff Dec 2016
Before the canvas used to be,
two single shades of blue
with an infinity of glinting lights
but as man went on tainting the painting
the shades of blue concealed the light
the infinity emerged calculable

Nevertheless, the painter went on
the canvas growing darker and darker
painted blue on blue
Nevertheless, man went on
throwing his debris onto the canvas
the infinity emerged calculable

With every stroke of man and time
the canvas emerged darker and darker
the light becoming slighter and slighter
but man went on
no glances spared at the painting
the infinity emerged calculable

Focused on adjusting the canvas
man continued to taint and taint
he then looked up towards the canvas
and felt reality fall
he gazed towards the first stroke of time
and wished to remake the world.
Dec 2016 · 254
Wondrous Grey.
Antares Cliff Dec 2016
The colours, so bright
they contrasted each other
the entire scene, radiated
It sent shivers through her spine
and made her hands tremble
It pulsed, it flickered
and they despised it.

so they shoved it down her throat
and the colours dimmed
most faded completely
everything wondrous
had just left
leaving her
stranded.

The grey world
could never compare
to her wondrous one
where the colours
were indescribable
it was too dull
nothing ever happened
and she despised it

But the wondrous world
had a twisted heart
it distorted those she loved
if she left for too long
they despised it

Her wondrous world
had a way
to slowly drag her back
tormenting her
and showing
the long lost cases of her smiles

She had no place in either world
the Grey world despised her
and she despised her wondrous world
So she left
Both.

Nobody despised either
When she left.

— The End —