Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
  Aug 2020 Lotus May
Paul Idiaghe
a cradle of completion;
my rubik's cube slowly becomes
faded of colors, frayed of stickers,
as a twisting time renders it
subtle and scrambled, but
unendingly unsolvable
—my meaning left
muddled on the palms of life

muddled on the palms of life
—my meaning left
unendingly unsolvable,
subtle and scrambled, but
as a twisting time renders it
faded of colors, frayed of stickers,
my rubik's cube slowly becomes
a cradle of completion;
Lotus May Jul 2020
don’t stop the bleeding
sit with pain, listen to it
feel it break open
Lotus May Jul 2020
a weep-
ing willow
with dried tears—
perhaps it learned to
hold hands with its fears.
I wonder if its roots are still
tangled in self-pity, if it realizes
what a waste it is to not notice its
own beauty. I know its branches
of hope will forever climb up the
sky, for it is a strong warrior
whose spirit will never,
ever die.
Lotus May Jun 2020
1, 2, 3…
𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡, ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒

I pretend to look for her
but somehow I find her
without even trying                    
Sadness opens her arms wide,
hugs me so hard
I hear my bones break                
I can’t move, I can’t breathe                      
yet she clings onto me tightly
until she melts
right into

my skin
Lotus May Jun 2020
e   seconds I lived
     t                in my
     h               head
     e   minutes I let anxiety
          t                    build up
          h                        in me
          e   hours I wished I could
               t                                 dis-
               h                          appear
               e   days I wallowed alone in
                    t                                     self-
                    h                                    p­ity
                    e   weeks I tried to outrun all
                         t                                   of my
                         h                                   fears
                         e   months I hated every inch of
                              t                               ­             my-
                              h                 ­                          self
                              e   years when I believed I was worth
                                                                ­                  nothing
"Nothing in the world could torment you as much as your own thoughts."  
-Ali B. Moe
Lotus May Jun 2020
I gaze in the mirror
at the bumps and blemishes—
unsightly mistakes etched
on a canvas of skin
I pick at all the red spots
𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏
I pick at all the scabs
𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑
I pick at all the scars
𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕

I peel off all this rotting skin
only to find more layers—
of crippling fear
of clawing jealousy
of heavy shame
eating away at
what is underneath it all—
a woman who does not have
the courage to love herself
Lotus May Jun 2020
some days, reality is suffocating
so we turn inward and drown
ourselves under the weight
of our own thoughts and
let our demons feed on
our deepest insecurities
we get so used to it that we don’t feel
our bodies screaming in pain,
craving for a taste of fresh air
or even just a moment of stillness
we forget we have arms and legs
aching to swim across the sea
we forget that our thoughts are
merely soft clouds passing by
we are not our thoughts
we are not our thoughts
we are not our thoughts

we forget that
all we need to do is
Next page