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Bluebird Oct 2020
Perhaps the night
lights up in tune with our laughter
Have you ever wondered
if the stars were merely just
reflections of your smile

Do you wake with the sun
or
Does it wait patiently
for the flutter of your eyelids
before it starts its ascend

Do you ever wonder about your own importance?
I can wake myself up in the morning
So why not also the world?
Another old poem from my notes
Bluebird Nov 2019
i wrote
blackout poetry
in my bible

and

i made
paper cranes
out of the ripped out pages

i did not mean to disrespect
i merely wanted to create
Bluebird Mar 2020
arent't you afraid
that you'll die
the same way
that you've been living
with an apology
always stuck to the back of your teeth

aren't you afraid
that one day you'll choke
on how much you care
My friends tell me I worry too much, but they're the ones giving me reasons to worry.
Bluebird Oct 2020
So you took a bite out of your own gun
Spit out the bullet and broke your teeth trying to chew the metal
You bared your teeth; twisted and shattered
But the threat was clear and your smile was sharp
Even if your canines weren't

And I know what you were trying to say
I felt your breath on my ear
And I heard you clearly when you promised me a taste
And I wondered if you were gonna break your teeth on me next
I wondered if you really were as terrible as you wanted me to believe
Or if you were just hiding
Another from my notebook. Cannot for the life of me remember the context.
Bluebird Oct 2020
the space between your eyes and the ring around your iris. your dark circles and all the wrinkles you wish you could hide. all tell the story of a life lived. do not run from that.

2. when you speak i hear the wind blowing through the forest and i smell the damp earth after it rains. i see sunsets and i feel the warmth from the sun. in you i know all kinds of terribly beautiful things. in you, i am home.

3. flowers bloom wherever you walk so watch your step.
I've seen so many of these definitions online, and I've always loved them, so I wanted to try it out for myself.
Bluebird Oct 2020
you always stumble because you're too busy staring the stars and so you never know where you're going. your eyes are always turned towards the old stories and you forget to watch for the future.

2. you have constant spots on your vision from looking at the sky. you're burning away your sight by staring at the sun. it is just another star and it is worth it.

3. even you cannot force neither inspiration nor love. slow down. breathe deep now.
Tried another definition of truth. Not sure which one I like best.
Bluebird Apr 2020
The Gods watch us
Pray to us

Our fragile bones
carry them
Our beliefs
make them

They worship us
for we are the golden blood
which runs moves through their veins

We will always be holy
The beutiful impermanent nature of being mortal
Bluebird Feb 2020
I love it when I can feel you watching me

I love it
when I turn towards you to tell you a joke
and find you
already grinning at me

I love knowing that you like me
Bluebird Feb 2020
"When did you last feel alive?"
He asked us.

They answered strange and twisted
Fear and terror
Pain and sorrow

Right now I said
As long as I can feel my own heartbeat
Then I am alive
They are the ones I used to be
Bluebird Oct 2019
I feel like the stray cat
that lives under our porch
you always feed me
and I always come back for more

You keep me warm
keep me safe
I have a knife for a tongue
and so do you
but mine is poisoned where yours is blunt
Bluebird Oct 2020
i swallowed the oil
took a bite out of the flames
my mouth full of fire
and i spat it back out
burned you instead of myself
and grinned while both our lips turned black
Wrote this when my country locked down in spring and just found it while looking through a notebook
Bluebird Mar 2020
what a thing you are
what a creature you make

your shadow
is alive and
it's got a claw
hooked under my chin and
i can still feel it
weeks after you leave

can you make me alive?
can you please stay alive for just a little longer?
never think that no one cares
Bluebird Oct 2020
i got excited by the cut on my finger
and the bruise on my thigh
(got one from making art
the other from chasing fun)
i've always loved that sort of thing
proof that i'm moving and creating

people will learn things about me
just by looking

i hope that they'll take an interest
flip through my pages
hope that my title and front page
can get them to read the rest of my story

i want you to ask me how i got
that bruise
that cut
that scar

i want so badly to tell a story
I was making prints for my art class and i kept falling over while learning how to rollerblade. Loved both things and wish I could do them more.
Bluebird Dec 2020
We're chasing each other around the tree.
The fox and me.
Always just shy of catching the other. Sharpening our teeth on the air we each leave behind. You took the tip off my tail. And I ripped the hair out of yours.
You're the reason my hairs turned white. It's the stress. And something else, something deeper, more profound. Something that gets me out of bed in the morning, but forgets to put me back to sleep in the evening.
We've been running for weeks now. And we can't stop.
I'm just waiting to see who drops first.
I think it's going to be me.
Doing an inktober sorta thing but for december:D
Bluebird Dec 2020
You are dust. And you are unimportant.
Take comfort in this. The world does not rest on your shoulders.
That is what they tell us but we have both switched places with atlas and each other. When you carry it, I relearn how to breathe. And when it is my turn, you try to get your bones to loosen, your body to move.
The gods see us every day. They know us and they know that we do not belong here. So they tell us we are dust and not to worry and that this is all in our heads.
Well where else would the world be? How else do you expect us to carry it on our shoulders?
Inktober but not really
Bluebird Jan 2020
here they stand
on opposite sides of the room
and it feels like
opposite sides of a river
opposite sides of the world

this kind love can no longer blossom when the both of them forget to water it
Bluebird Oct 2020
What are you, but a mans misintrepretation of divinity. No one deserves to carry the burden of impossible expectations.
You are too kind to be a ruler and too cruel to be a priest. You will have to be a lover, the only thing that can be both at the same time.

I place you at my alter as both prayer and sacrifice in one.
I try to give you away, but you were never mine to own.
But your eyes are too bright to look into and your hands are too cold to hold.

There are stains on my soul form loving you too hard. Stains from when I spilled your blood to keep myself warm and ended up drowning instead.
From a story I wrote once.
Bluebird Oct 2020
what if i wrote poetry with an old dip pen
and lived my life

what if i kissed that cute girl
and asked my friend out

would it have consequences?
would i mind?
would i regret it?

would she say yes??
old one. what if.

— The End —