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2.5k · Oct 2018
Lavender
Bragi Oct 2018
Memories traveller.
I remember when I was younger and my mother would sneak into my room with a handful of secrets, revealing them to be flowers. Lavender. She said it was to help the sleepless, and that I was. Restless from the monsters under my bed she’d sing me songs, the scent and tingles she’d sent streaming up my spine were seamless, one melting into the other. She’d tuck me in cozily and I’d noticed the smell of a light purple colour that she’d crushed into my palm, a mortar, her soft fingers the pestle. So when the years went by and our time grew shorter, with the linear layout of these memories would I wrestle as I’d strain to remember what our time together was like before you passed finally one last, lost, dreary November. Then one day, as the rain fell outside our house the bushes it struck were made of lavender and I felt like I had been saved, because once again I’d found you.
Bragi Jul 2018
On the Wednesday night of my birthday
I noticed how I’d been thinking of you lately
On the Wednesday night of my birthday
I missed that lost promise of a maybe

Not a ‘promise’, you wouldn’t have said so,
Not an ‘oath’ that I’m pretending you swore,
It was a hope that I’d been waiting for.
The maybe that maybe we were more

But more than what? you’d say
More that friends? ‘That’s all it was, the only way’
Left with a sour denial to taste
After all the time together we’d waste.
Wasted if we were nothing that great
But we were and you were my soul..
Mistake?
Too late to differentiate

Gone
Lost with time
Go
Ghost
From my mind
On the Wednesday night of my birthday
Things have started going a little hazy
On the Wednesday night of my birthday
My memory of you is slowly fading

I’m going crazy. It’s something I’d worked so hard at saving.

Why
On my birthday?
1.8k · Sep 2018
Ragnarök
Bragi Sep 2018
Like a hammer that’s too short.
Like a wall that feels lacking.
Like a land of giants, vanished.
Like a god among gods who aren’t your own.
Perfect in an imperfect world or

imperfect in a perfect world;
your imperfection shown.

Yggdrasil overgrown and all the options leave you empty.
At first nine worlds seem plenty
but soon you hope for twenty,
finding no treasures tempting.
Your desires in the waters 

of three holy wells reflecting
a thing that seems calm and collected:
an ending to the ending;
soft but not,

like a pillow made of rock,
you rest your head upon
the thought of Ragnarök.
1.7k · Aug 2018
Ignorance
Bragi Aug 2018
Ignorance is bliss;
Sweeter than any kiss.
It’s an unfair kind of careless care.
This idea of something you missed,
Where?
A tear which never needed to be known,
There. In the mirror. Wipe away the smudges and it becomes visible,
Clearer. Shown in a smile that some would call naive. But you don’t because Ignorance is richer.
Your ears burn bright but you believe all is well, that all is right, so you continue your life like a phone in a theatre. Beating on the drum of negligence, perfectly pitching yourself as a heedless, harmonious heap; inauspiciously and ironically thinking ones self, misguidedly, meticulous. Inadvertently beautiful.
Ignorance is bliss.
1.4k · Oct 2018
Leaves
Bragi Oct 2018
Again.
You leave.
Leaving me lifeless.
Life’s lessons are learned
Like this.
Through crisis.
Through hurt,
Through grief.
Heartbreaks make a survivalist.
Burnt out from the time I was
Seventeen;
Burst,
My heart has been set out for all to see;
Plainly strung up in pieces,
Like leaves
Hanging
Precariously on a tree,
Made from the bones and ashes of lovers
I’d never meet,
Each new year bringing a wind that rips
them from their branches,
A wind that dances through my memory.
This year it was you.
Turning me golden like maple leaves in
autumn my mind’s marked me as a dying
season.
And you,
You treated me like a poison.
Times testaments teach
To forgive
...Within reason.
You were a part of me
And I committed treason.
1.1k · May 2018
If Beauty Bled
Bragi May 2018
I hate that you are so beautiful.
I hate      that you are
                                      So
                                            Beautiful.
At a price
I say it twice
                          It’s comical
                         Illogical
                        That for you I fall
Neurological
Psychological
                        The damage caused
                       Stall
                      Stall
                     Stalled.
                    Paused.

My head now full
         Cruel.
           Undo
             The damage that has spread
To bed
To bed
To bed
     It was said
       I hated how you were so beautiful
         When for twice those words were
      bled.
1.1k · Jun 2018
In Conclusion
Bragi Jun 2018
In conclusion, you don’t want me.
The rest of this is wasted.
Worthless words,

Tasteless,
Useless in their
Needless,
Hopeless,
Pointlessly
Persistant tangents.
Get to the crux.

As beautiful as it was,

As much as this *****,

A dream is all it could be

Because,

In conclusion, you don’t want me.
Bragi May 2018
In a garden filled with flowers
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Patient like impatiens
You lay, lie
Lac of worry.

The Wisteria hands you here
another idea
‘Forget-Me-Not’ it says.
All the while the Orchids
struggle beneath
to compete;
A heartbeat you notice
as carefully and clear
as the Clematis is.

Under the sun-flowers
you nurture the buttercups
Bluebells
maintain the Marigolds
While through the kitchen window
he washes, watches, waves, wearing his Marigolds.

The Evening primrose shows
through the Iris of our eyes
a Lilac sky
leaning on a golden glow
in the lavender scented air
and you remind yourself
This is your Gardenia.

You made it.
Maintained it.
Arranged it.
Sustained it.

For in this garden filled with timeless flowers
you were the gardener.
and now the gardener must go
so that she, herself,
may grow.
872 · Oct 2018
OK
Bragi Oct 2018
OK
Tonight was nice
Not splendid
Not great
Just nice
I guess
We underestimate
The word ‘ok’.
Everyone makes it a competition
To be better,
A description of
‘Not the same’,
But I’m doing alright
After today.
No prescription.
I felt fine.
No assistance
To make each breath mine.
I make my own way.
I cary on through.
So don’t make me say
My time was spent better than you.
I’m allowed a simple ‘ok’
And you are too.
857 · Aug 2018
Vincent
Bragi Aug 2018
A Story of guilt.
Not for him, for us.
Vincent.

Strokes and flicks,
Glides of guilded golds
Hushed in the Blues,
Innocence in the Greens;
Boldly infused oils
Spilling out on a canvas;
A legacy built on
Sorrow. Toil. Turmoil.
Who with dark indents on a page shaded in
Shadows showed
Work. Work, work,
Constant work.
A Starry Night’s muse.
All the while cowards saying they always
Knew,
Always loved,
Always loving
Vincent.
Bragi Oct 2018
He smiled a smile I forgot existed.
A child grinning like the sun had risen for the first time and the shimmers and glimmers of a shining haze which might have been stalactite-like light, bouncing off the walls in rays, reflected all the joy of the world back into his puppy dog eyes. Wise to their existence before their time, typically to be lost again when falling in line with what society tells them to be. A crime to see but it happened to me, to you, and yet this little smiler chewed away at my heart until all that was left was a pulsing goo used to spark the ignition to an engine that motored my mind into gear saying ‘wonder. Wonder is a beautiful thing’ and I knew then that I had found my Neverland. And all the while thought it would never land so clearly, right there, in a child’s smile. So sincerely.
810 · May 2018
La Mort Petite.
Bragi May 2018
Slow down
Beat
Quick
Feet
Dangle
Beneath
Hold my breath
Is it defeat?
A little treat
Left for me
one so weak?
Life’s lessons learned
But none to teach
Who was she?
Twitch
Why was he
Twitch
There?
Twitch
Th’ air’s a sea
Twitch
Swimming
Twitch
Swimming
Twitch
Swimming
Twitch

Twitch


Twitch



.


La mort petite.
Important note to readers: However you read this, suicide is a very serious topic and should never be taken lightly. If you need help in any way big or small there are many places to turn. This is just one of them:-
(United Kingdom)
Samaritans – for everyone
Call 116 123
Email jo@samaritans.org
810 · Jul 2018
Breaking Again
Bragi Jul 2018
Break
Break
Break
Break
Break it
Broken
Braving the
Open.
Sudden.
Opportunity
Sees me
Repeating cycles of
Toxic masculin
It teases me
Poisons
Seeping in
Claiming what’s mine
The mind.
Weakening.
Beginning again
A grinning ‘been there’
The light singeing my hairs
As is breaks through the skin
Bleeding
Breaking
Broken
A break in
Rhythm
So break
Break
Break
Break
Break it
Broken
Braving the
O
Again.
798 · Oct 2018
Somewhere
Bragi Oct 2018
Loving you was like I jumped on a train at the last second; the doors sliding behind me and I almost missed it, the carriage that held you. As I took a seat I noticed you there, sat reading a book, holding a sweet smile across rose tinted cheeks, the glasses you wear hanging tightly atop your nose. I never want to leave. I stop, start staring like an idiot and its obvious how I feel, but you haven’t noticed my existence. The book is written by someone who stole your heart and even though I hope you finish it before my stop I know you can’t. I just wish you’d have looked up. Just once, at me. I wish you’d have seen what I’d seen looking at you one last time as I stepped off the carriage and onto a platform that lead somewhere you would never know. Somewhere we would never be.
792 · Jul 2018
Honey
Bragi Jul 2018
Busy mind, busy me.
Busy me minding my busy.
Busy, you see, minding me.
I’m busy all the time and we
Remind me of how busy
My mind used to be
For you.
Busy you, minding me
Busily rushing through, dizzy.
Dizzily stumbling around the truth
Hoping we wouldn’t be
Too busy minded to see
Still Polaroid’s in all the scenes.
Images golden and sweet
Nostalgically tasting honey
These funny memories made by Bees
Busy Bees
Like you and me.
650 · Oct 2018
The Girl and The Tree
Bragi Oct 2018
In the sea
There is a tree
It’s roots they stretch a thousand leagues
It’s branches reach up oh so high
They go so far as to touch the sky

The tree was said never to be named.
For centuries, deliberately some would say,
it kept all people in the world at bay
But the gods had promised there to be a day
The most deserving of children would find a way
And climb the tree to find treasures array
..if only one monster the youth could slay.

In a sadly lit room a little girl cried.
The ring she had given her before she had died
was all that was left of the happy past life
Her mother had spent with her there by her side.
Her mother long gone and the ring not in sight,
The little girl wailed but would sneak out that night.

She knew where it was, her cruel aunt had thrown it;
‘Come now’ she said ‘I think you’ve outgrown this’.
It fell at a place where all were forbid,
under sea waves was where it now hid.

She found the place
She made no mistake.
Before jumping in the little girl braced
A rush of water had hit her face
A brand new feeling she had to intake
But the water now returned a warming embrace.
It helped the girl and showed her the way.

She must have been swimming for more than nine hours
Her legs were so tired, but she was no coward.
She could see shapes ahead, she screamed and she shouted
But no one replied, no alarm had been sounded.
So the little girl swam... and soon she was grounded.

The shapes were giant roots, bigger than buildings
Huge, unbelievable, bewildering, tall things
Then she realised, on one was she standing
And when she looked up, she noticed she was climbing.
At the top, she knew, she felt a strange feeling,
The ring would be there, she could see it, waiting.

She reached the top
Her heart had stopped
A golden garden with birdsong, soft.
The gardens heart held a door, locked.
But the way to the key appeared to be blocked.
Blocked by a horrible, familiar aunt.

The aunt ran at the girl, in big scary strides
But the girl was not afraid, no more would she hide.
She stood on the edge, her heart as her guide.
And waited for the moment they both would collide...

Off the edge they fell
The girl said ‘farewell,
To my mum where all is well’.
She closed her eyes as the demon aunt yelled.
At then at that moment her mum’s voice broke the spell
‘One more push to be happy, one more my big girl’.

She opened her eyes and felt the wind rush
She kicked off the aunt with one final push.
The girl only just missed one of the trees roots.
The monster was slain, you could hear the yells hush.
The girl landed safely in the waters warm touch.
And now a small key in her hands did she clutch.

She climbed once more
And unlocked the door
Where beyond was lain the most wonderous of hordes
Treasures beyond what all life has explored.
But the little girl walked on so swiftly past it all
Until she had found what her heart was there looking for.

The Gods came down and congratulated her
‘But you must take more! It is what you have earned!
You completed this feat, you should take what’s deserved!’
But the girl just smiled and with this thank you she turned

I just want the ring
And memories to keep
Of my mother always.
To help me to sleep.
You Gods are kind
But my mother you can’t give
So let me go home with this most precious of gifts.

And with that
the girl found herself back
In a dimly lit room with a ring in her hand.
But in the morning when she got up to stand
She found herself smiling at a rather strange sound.
It wasn’t her aunt yelling, or screaming a demand,
But asking if she liked yolks runny
or if she preferred them when hard...
646 · Jun 2018
To My Dad
Bragi Jun 2018
There is no one I have been through more with. No one else I fought this war with. No one else I battled with most. And no one else since she was diagnosed. So thank you for being both mother and father. Thank you for being my shield and my armour.
557 · Jun 2018
Update.
Bragi Jun 2018
Social media is a weakness. I’m so closely linked to what you do. I could stop. I could ‘unfollow’ but that would be rude and I’m better than that. We both are. So we continue ‘following’ the others every move. So I feel my heart collapse and explode simultaneously every time I open your story or hear the birds in the morning thinking of you. I’ll check twitter and when I see you’re ok without me, I’ll turn away, bitter. Anxiety will envelop me till the next time I grow desperate and write in your name to find my new dose, the newest update.
542 · Jun 2018
Wasted
Bragi Jun 2018
He wants you to know that he feels wasted.
The feeling of ash in his mouth, tasteless, 

but the numbness he feels isn’t painless, just nameless.
He thinks you think yourself blameless but his hatred, though baseless; shapeless and aimless, reckless,

is tenacious; holding him in stasis. Sleepless. Wakeless.


“You took all that I had and spread it out like a selection on a cheese board for all to see, but you… You kept my heart for yourself. And every now and again you return to it and watch, pressing down slowly upon the needles that hang there like some strange, disturbed voodoo doll. Well, when the needles have been pressed through, they’ll have nowhere left to go, and the holes that you leave, will heal over tenfold.”


  Waste not, want not.

  Want not, waste not.
                  Wasted not, wanted.
                  Wanted not, wasted.
                   Wasted no. Not wasted. He just feels it.
Bragi Jun 2018
I’m sorry. I love you.
I’m sorry for this.
I’m sorry it’s hurtful.
I’m sorry you’re missed.

Perpetual pain in a world so cruel.
I didn’t think I’d never be with you.

I’m sorry I love you.
I’m sorry I felt.
What I said was true,
Leaving hadn’t helped.

I hoped the fear would fall.
I looked past the last door

I’m sorry, I love you.
Forgive me, we stopped.
I didn’t have a clue
We would feel this locked.

I saw you there waiting for me
But now I know it was only fantasy.

‘I’m sorry’. ‘I love you’.
However it’s said
I wish this knew
A different end.
491 · Nov 2018
Flash
Bragi Nov 2018
Time flys by
It was when I was born
That my life flashed before
My eyes.
465 · Jul 2018
'If'
Bragi Jul 2018
If I were suicidal
I would want to see
  why people run blades over their arms
   is it
    like cutting, gliding, staining a shimmering
     white sheet?
      Does it let out the darkness in tiny
       ruby
        droplets?
       Or would it be pointless?
Would I be drowning in a bathtub of my own wrong choices?


If I were suicidal
            I would want to swing myself
into emptiness
            The feeling of tightness around my neck.
A faint crack
             in time.         To forget and rest.
Is that what it would feel like?
             A short drop
and spike
             in my heartbeat?
Or would I linger, floating? No quicker
             than the pendulum of regret come to
find me again.


If I were suicidal
I would want to know
how easy it would be to overdose.
1. the first, enough to give your body a
kick like a coffee in the mourning. But
thats about it
2. The second, slow progression. I'm thinking of
paracetamol by the way.
3. The third, not much will change
'till the
4.
5.
6.
7th? No.
8.
9.
10.
11th? More.
12.
13.
14.
15. th
      I looked it up
      anything
      past that is a lethal dose.
      But I regret this knowledge I now know
      because there is no ease in something
                     so slow   .



If I were suicidal
               I would jump                         on the tracks
       'Mile End' isn't far                         when you look at the
map       but that's one                          every 31 hours
             if you listen to                           statistics.
    I guess no one cares                          if you become an
                                      'inconvenience'.
If I feel like that anyway                     I suppose it doesn't matter.
But there's the thought                       of my loved ones
             seeing my body                        in that manner.

__


'If I were suicidal'
If this is the wish
how did we end up here
                contemplating this?
Important note to readers: However you read this, suicide is a very serious topic and should never be taken lightly. If you need help in any way big or small there are many places to turn. This is just one of them:-
(United Kingdom)
Samaritans – for everyone
Call 116 123
Email jo@samaritans.org
461 · Nov 2018
When I See Your Face
Bragi Nov 2018
When I see your face
I giggle a little
Tripping a little
Over my inhibitions
Fidgeting a little
Fleeting figuratively from
These feelings I feel
When I see your face
Taking me to places
I wish I’d always have been,
Seen in the mistakes I’ve made
That took me here and made
This moment with you.
Safety and truth
Things I can share;
Things that grew
From a part of me where
I’d hidden what I knew.
Now you know and this new
Twist in my heartstrings
Brings me to think
My happiness is linked
To
When I see your face.
461 · Jul 2018
Something You Don’t Know
Bragi Jul 2018
There’s something about be you don’t know.
What?
You can’t quite put your finger on it.
There’s a part of me that’s drifted away
Like a cool breeze on a summers day.
Two points with distance growing between,
Slow,
Safe,
Shifting through time and
Both needed space from this place
So I disconnected the fuse and the spark went with it. Fizzled.
I hid it where you can’t see it, out of sight of your hand held screen. Visiting you with a tap but we both know there’s more than that, more than this coding and updated status, facts we can’t see behind these boxes of light. Facts like you and me and what I wanted us to be but now it seems I was as real as a dream.
This nightmare.
This nightmarish grief without you leans on me like a leach, feeding on this thing, this thing between you and me.
‘What ‘thing’?’
‘What do I mean?’
What am I saying?
Feeling like there’s something about me you don’t know?
What?
Hm. I guess you just can’t put your finger on it.
446 · Oct 2018
Let Me Grow Young
Bragi Oct 2018
Let me grow young
I want to remember what it’s like
To find the playfulness
I’d hide,
To find the fullness
In my life.
To count to one two nine six five.

Let me grow young
I want to jump on trampolines
And buy all flavours of ice-creams
To imagine what it’s like to fly
When lava’s on my floors at night.

Let me grow young
Don’t let me forget what I have done,
Don’t let me grow cold to the fun
Or stop me singing songs I’ve sung.

Let me grow young.
Let me keep all my silly sides,
Remind myself at least I tried
To work beside the adult kids
For I don’t know how many years.

Let me grow young.
Being a grown up is just dumb.
429 · Jun 2018
Like a Dream
Bragi Jun 2018
Wondering here like a dream;
  The moon to my left,
    Sat here on my balcony.

                          A soft breeze brushes my hair;
                        Calm as a kiss,
                      My mind drifts in the air.

      A cars headlights glide over the horizon;
        The darkness finds comfort
          Till it hits lights at London;

                                  Red sparkles glisten and glimmer;
                                Shivering remnants of life
                              In an empty place for sinners.

                The opposite shine up above;
                  Stars in darkness,
                    Thinking love not enough.

                                          The only way to come back down to earth
                                         Is by looking up at night
                                       To be lost in a universe.
423 · Oct 2018
Tip
Bragi Oct 2018
Tip
I don’t want to remember you.
I want you to have a place on the
Tip of my Tongue.
Like I do on yours.
420 · Jun 2018
The Sun And The Stag
Bragi Jun 2018
Sick. My stomach sits unsettled.
Moaning like ghosts, mostly meaning
My mind is stuck
On you.
Haunted, hunted like a buck or stag pursued by the sunrise on an empty street in suburbia. Soon to be disturbed and yet it stays still, staring at the beams of light edging over the horizon. Hypnosis of the kind where your skin freezes and pimples, ripples, in wonder when you find the reason you’ve been stuck there all along was because this short lived sensation means more to you than carrying on.
But like a buck caught in the sunlight, it’s not meant to be. The sun doesn’t want the stag, just like you don’t want me.
417 · Aug 2018
Smoke and Mirrors
Bragi Aug 2018
I inhale the dark mist of self sodomising reflections like it were the sweet smell of nostalgia; Lavender on my pillow playing soft symphonies of content. This is no longer a reality but can be re-lived through memories, through a silver-lined portal of pretend; the face staring back at me, I know, is a devise; all fogged by want. This is the face I choose, the one I wear today. It may change, but for now, like a magic trick, smoke and mirrors guard me and my secrets.
407 · Jun 2018
Host of a Ghost
Bragi Jun 2018
A few minuets ago,
Moments ago,
Seconds became slow
And I saw a ghost.

Ahead in the dark,
Stood under street lamps,
She jarred my imagination
To an interrogation of path banks.

I knew she wasn’t real,
I had placed her there;
A smile concealed, revealed
Beneath her golden hair.

Walking towards me,

knowing, foreboding,
A grin of sweetest glee,
She starts m’heart choking.

Reaching out to hold
Like we used to
The mist, is’t carless cold
As she passes through?

Features,
faces,
all fall from existence;
I look around, shameless,
I saw her at a distance.

Now gone,
A ghost;
Alive, I’m undone;
My love the host.
395 · Sep 2018
Bragi Sep 2018
Perfection is a competition.

Imperfection is a story.
392 · Jun 2018
Pieces
Bragi Jun 2018
-                         We write poetry
When our hearts are shattering
Into a thousand
                   Tiny
Pieces
383 · May 2018
Begin Again
Bragi May 2018
Back where I began

with my back turned

Unaware

I never learn

The mistakes I make

Burn

Etched into my memories

Like a waterfall

cutting a path I faintly discern

love I’d sworn

conversing in a bath tub

Return

to the time I ended up

Back where I began

With my back turned

Unaware

I never learn.
377 · Jul 2018
Muddled Billy Heartbreak
Bragi Jul 2018
There was younce a ong man named Billy
He knew his brilly was so srain
He went to the docblem
And they told him his protor
Was heartbreak.

His wuddled were now mords
And young Boubled was trilly
Because love would never be the same.
This one is a bit of an experiment. The words are deliberately muddled so it takes a small bit of figuring out. I see it almost like a little riddle or puzzle; confusing but a representation of what’s going on in the ‘persons’ head.
369 · Jun 2018
Love and Death
Bragi Jun 2018
Love is a pale man on a horse.
          Ill looking.
               Tired and alone.
Was it ever felt more than in parting?
                'Distance', the horseman's mistress,
                                   is heartache.
The man roams the vast wilderness,
his ghostly glare bright beneath the starry night.
A sensation caught betwixt sleep and wake.

Death is a lady.
                Old.
                  Lost, but in company.
            a kind smile stretched across
          her shrouded face.
               Shadowed with grace.
       Sat by the fireplace
                   with her children she waits.

                                                    Some say for the day
                                                    the rider makes it home.
                                                    When Love will hold Death.
                                                    For the peace they are owed.
367 · Jun 2018
I Will Miss You
Bragi Jun 2018
Like Winter misses summer,
Like autumn misses spring,
I’ll miss you like the fresh sea air
Or blackbirds when they sing.

I’ll miss you like a clear blue sky
Or cozy rainy greys,
I’ll miss you and the time we had,
All seconds of my days.

The smell you had, so sweet to me,
I hate to think it gone.
I’ll miss that scent and odour kind
Now that past is done.

I’ll miss your voice, the way you smile,
And think of you as such.
I hope you find that happiness now
You don’t think on me as much.

Your eyes, your nose, your lips, your face,
I mapped out in my mind.
The memories I have of you
Are there if I close my eyes.

I’ll miss you like I’ll miss my joy
Each time I was with you.
I’ll miss you like the time I missed
The chance I had with you.
364 · Jul 2018
Some Think
Bragi Jul 2018
Some think is bothering me
It’s getting underneath my skin
I’m feeling the slow pressures
Of a feeling sinking in
I remembered what it was like
To want to not to be
As I sit here asking
What’s right about being me?
Don’t tempt fait by looking in my eyes
You know i wear this face in disguise
So why
Why
Do you pull me beneath with that sigh?
Thinking of things, hinting, waiting
For me to give in and cry.
Tear drops moulding lines and I’ve broken
I beg you not to use me, you have me, open
But it always ends the same way when you leave it all darker, hopeless in pain.
This thinking my think reminds me some think is bothering me of late.
363 · Jun 2018
Call
Bragi Jun 2018
Like piano in the background you were a soundtrack to my soul, a wormhole to another part of the universe where we could float amongst the stars and stall time as if it was ours. Still. Amongst the vastness of it all. I’d freeze in warmth as my name was called.
362 · Oct 2018
It
Bragi Oct 2018
It
Be better than all of it.

It’s only a few letters after all.
355 · Jun 2018
Time a...
Bragi Jun 2018
...time again
I miss something.
Is it you?
About you?
A part of
who I once was?
With you.
Because
was I me with you?
Or was I you with you?

I wish I knew.
But I haven't a clue.
I didn't choose.
All I could do
was tell the truth
and I knew I'd lose
waiting in queue
but I couldn't move,
rooted in my shoes
I refused
like a love struck fool
and was used.
But I let you.

Time and...
352 · Oct 2018
Breath
Bragi Oct 2018
My breath does breathe.
A breath of fresh air makes me see
All the little things that could be
Breathing heavily at the thought of
possibility and I choke.
Forgetting the sentence I wrote;
Cutting you out of my life
Like oxygen from my windpipe,
Removing all evidence with precision,
A decision I was forced to make
Else we’d both break
So I took what little of my heart I had left
And I left.

I thought it for the best
But now I can’t breathe breath
As thoughts of you have yet
To leave my head.
345 · Jul 2018
Content
Bragi Jul 2018
It’s funny feeling content
Once again
I remember what it meant.
I wonder where it went.
In the time that I had spent
Wasted on what I dreamt
Was me trying to prevent,
fighting against, torment?
Oh.

I remember my descent
From this feeling of content.
334 · May 2018
A Wall
Bragi May 2018
If I was separated from you
By a wall
12 feet tall
With no way to pass
Or make it fall
  I’d ask for glass
    A small window placed
      At the height of my shoulders
        The height of your face.
          Only one way
            A mirror of mine
              So I could see you
                While you move on with time.
                             I’d watch you smile
                             I’d watch your grace
                             I’d see his joy
                             As you dance till embrace.
                    You would grow old
                  Gifted with grandchildren
                But you would be happy
             As I looked on in.
         As life fades from sight
      You’d remember a time
    Of a boy who once was yours
And wishes you were mine.
330 · Oct 2018
A Candle Without Wax
Bragi Oct 2018
My flame burns bright
Like lighting,
Thundering loud cracks,
But Without you
I’m as a candle
Without wax.
329 · Oct 2018
Prometheus
Bragi Oct 2018
I was so in love
With what we had made
That any sense of sufferance
Of punishment
For my actions
Became an utterance, stayed.
Lost in my satisfaction that
I had given you something far lighter;
I was so in love,
Stolen, a divine fire,
Like Prometheus.
327 · Jul 2018
Chime
Bragi Jul 2018
A chime calls like bells lost in wishing wells,
scattered deep in valleys or lost in snowy mountains it dwells.
Sounds that paint the thick colour of nostalgia for a time you lost and never had;
having lost yourself in a fog of static,
glad that thoughts would freeze for a moment like ripples on a dark lake;
the moon reflecting years of torture, tormented, teased by ghosts of those gone
a long long long time ago. Tragic
of corse
but I dare say
you were just as much to blame
as a wishing well chime
or ripples on a lake.
326 · Jul 2018
Pendulous Sway
Bragi Jul 2018
I care.
Of corse I care.
I know you think I’ve forgotten,
That I’ve moved on.
Its hard to move on when I feel like we did nothing wrong.
When I know I still want to whisper words to you.
The same few I said when you smiled at me. That moment was perfect.
I didn’t need you to say it back. I never have. But I hoped that one day you could.
It frightens me that I will never feel that, or any other word from you ever again. And that the last thing you said was ‘it never had to be this way’. It did. I opened up my heart to you, but you had a boyfriend, so I went. True I left. I couldn’t be your friend, because thats what loving you meant. A certainty too intense. Else, I was stuck in limbo surrounded by white walls, a room slowly filling with black paint until… until. I saw him through the ripples in dark liquid, feeling you, clueless of what you really mean. My life was in perpetual pause in front of a big-screen projection. Waiting for the hoping for the moment of a day, when you hold me and our heartbeats melt in pendulous sway.
This one really is my heart on a plate. Its the most honest and open I've written. If this person ever read this they'd know it was about them.
Bragi Jul 2018
I spoke to my dad the other day
We talked about how
When we walk down the street we
turn up our music and walk to a beat
as if something in the sensation of hearing
a note gives us an armour. Preparing
ourselves before we face the world. Power
as a calmer. We make a soundtrack to our
lives so we’re not as boring anymore, at
least not through our eyes. Our ears carry
us in a way. Keeping the voices at bay, the
ones that say ‘we’re watching you and we
see your heartache. We’re watching you
through this shield, fake. We’re watching
you because soon you’ll pay’.
I made a mistake.
I spoke to my dad the other day.
320 · Jul 2018
Drip Drop
Bragi Jul 2018
Drip drop
Two words. They make me think of rainfall on a dark night. Cozy. Snug. Back when lines were blurred and I was a child who didn’t have to pretend I was all grown up. But ‘drip drop’ isn’t real and that’s not the pattering sound rain makes as it hits the ground, no, that’s too surreal. It will never be a slow comfort to the ears that sends soaring sears of pleasant shivers up my spine to the tip of my head. A Moment. Mine. It will never be a memory of my dad, my mum, once, tucking me in bed while it rains outside and they lean over, with a gleam in their eye, and whisper to me before sleep. ‘Drip drop’ they said. But now I hear ‘freak’.
319 · Jun 2018
Once
Bragi Jun 2018
A boy once,
who loved.
                                                                                                     Now a man,
                                                                                                     little chance.
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