Poetry has become my self harm,
I only write at my lows...
Instead of blood I see words,
Instead of a blade I have a keyboard...
I want to write about...
The wind dancing with the sea...
The way you smile and it lights up your innocent face...
I don't want poetry to be my self harm,
Because poetry is beautiful...
Judge away... I'm trying to not care... No matter how much I do ...
Let the word you speak
be one that echoes.
From the perfect distance
Even a fractured bottle
Can appear whole and beautiful
When a feeling becomes your god.
That empty feeling becomes who you turn to and who you return to.
You cultivated, harvested and produced everything I would desire
like Embers, I was once discovered by your fire
In my darkest hours you'd always give me reason,
like wildfires in unexpected seasons
Every part of me learned to radiate,
ecstatically exposed to all your burning states
Then came the day I turned into dust,
and like a volcano you annihilated my trust
I was the property of a ****** arsonist,
and starting fires is how his wickedness vents
It's hard to fathom that this started with little ignition,
because it grew so fast into a vicious obsession
I asked you to stop smoking that day and it wasn't because I was simply sick of it,
I just hated the fact that I saw myself in your half dead-cigarette
Sometimes your perfect "match" can perfectly burn you.
Feelings are like waves,
hesitant, frequent and they traverse all distances
Past loves are like droplets,
faint and irrelevent yet they disturb all skins and surfaces
Low self-esteem is like a flood,
it damages and submerges everything that is alive
Hearts are like the rain,
heavy or light, they still hold the ocean's drive
Minds are like the seas,
only they can quiet themselves
Aren't we 100% water?
Easy to dress and hard to address.