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Poetria Aug 14
carve yourself a fresh wound
between your shoulder blades
this is how your blood transfers to me:
hot steel draining into these canals uninvited

fallen angel named a saint in his glory days
i carry the burden of the fire that you are
light in the sky my feet bleed to outrun
i suffer from the weight of my misjudgment

man is a god: all-consuming, and unburnt
a self-fulfilling knife, and a metal make-up pulse
with you, religion ends and my faithlessness begins
infliction only aggravates this ruined innocence

your ruthlessness is heaven-sent and eating me alive
you are the cause of everything, are too the cause despite

i point at you in blame, but it circles back to me
that traitorous, inevitable, infinite shape
man is a god: unrepenting, but forgiven
there is no version of this story i could ever win
i realised that you do not always get to decide what you are defined by: and i am defined by this hatred, whether by choice or by consequence, or both. you do not choose who your father is, you can only choose how to make sense of what he's done. he will be so deeply woven into your flesh by the time you can see it for yourself, and by then you are already in the aftermath
Poetria Aug 12
this place is all bullets and plastic wrap
you are a space for which i am glad

you are a blanket with sleeves, miracle to me
you are comfort, like chocolate, so endlessly sweet

you are a million moons changing,
beacon in the fog
staying light just the same,
holding on in the dark

until the next song, until the next start
put me in your pockets, hold onto my heart

softer shades and falling leaves,
you are a reckoning that came out clean
i modified a poem i wrote for my dearest friend mahnoor 2 years ago. in a city so cruel, and a place that's been ruined for me in memory, she was the light. she has always been a source of sweetness for me and nothing but. to cultivate a friendship so strong with her is something i want to always get better at doing. there is truly nobody as good and kind and as much of an angel. blanket with sleeves is in reference to the blanket with sleeves she owns and i envy :( she gave me chocolates for my birthday & when i met her in 2019 at her house she had this cute plate of small chocolates prepared. i have taken notes and will steal the idea. her name means moonlight so i will always associate her with the moon more than anything else. what i wanted to tell her in this poem was initially that i am so glad to be able to call her my friend and for her to choose me to be by her side after all of this time and after any times i've wronged her is something i value more than i ever say. the last line is borne out of a time where i took my friendships for granted, and doubted them, and honestly, i think the reckoning that (to my relief) came out clean should be me instead. i do love to have tunnel vision though. not to dwell on the past, though. i just love her so much and promise to write a better poem than this for her one day!! and we dont count the other poem i titled friend and wrote with u in mind because its just very insecure and i dont like it
Poetria Jul 22
wake up, dark cloud
eyes say the worst
when they are red

sun is somewhere
we can't reach it
how do i write about this?

my mind supplies me
with lavender fields
anything beautiful

cruelty, rage
the side of your face
how do i write about this?

a dream, a hug, a poem
the alto, the M2, the mall
desert to oasis, any day now

your wings of chrome
in shreds, in shards
the glitter on this road

waiting for the day to close
horizon's coloured sob
how long until you reach for it?
the end
the title is a song by sufjan stevens
Poetria Jul 11
i've been hard to see
an endless haze, in purgatory
with tendency for reverie
and sickness

i've been hard to hold
my safe space, a vacuum
sanctuary for a fool

not the things i called you
winter morning, shy of light
stoic menace, block of ice

flake of gold, fallen so far
what right have i to pick your parts?
no judge would cross a morning star
so lovely

not your blood i saw run cold
sweet, brilliant dawn-breaker
take the peace i bargain for
what's least is now my most
im glad for every poem ive written this year because the subject matter needed to be written about, but i dont much like my poetry this year either.
Poetria Jul 1
i want to ask: why the tribulation?
why the fire and the levels and these lambs on a skewer?
now, why the condemnation?
put these ingredients through your right and wrong machine and see what truths your ways spit up
blood on the pavement and your white sneaker soles
how it was and how it is and how it always 'ought' to be
so tell me how to fit myself here in your wound
i mean something i can work with
i mean you'll hate me if i ever use the words i never reach for
i mean you'll hate me if i tell you we can do without a storm before the you-know-what
that we're the gold, the only light worth dust and dirt
i mean you'll hate me if i ever use the words i care about
so keep the change
i'll keep my love
there are things more important than blood
this poem is specifically about white adidas shoes that cost over 10k rupees + that sufjan stevens song about blood and being drawn to it. the rest is just filler words and concepts, take it from me, the pôët
Poetria Jun 9
i braid my hands together, veins coursing with rain
channeling a storm that never does make the journey

where i come from, a whisper could shake the sky
collapse the clouds and drag heaven from its pedestal

lightning to a tree, and the girl is just a trickle
when will you stop dripping blood on my hands?

i braid my hands together, veins coursing with rain
channeling a storm that never does make the journey

it's hard to tell your red from the honey of my skin
the blood on my hands starts to look like a friend
i find you in the worst of me, the blood on my hands is always yours
Poetria May 24
every day, you miss me
hiding by your side
revolving in orbit, by godly design

every day, coffee
you take it without sugar
you take it like disease

every day, fire
bloodshot eyes, peeling smile
flashing lights and windows
reflect you in all your crime

every day, i am still here
cruel world and coffee and burning a life
your name hurts, me, djinn-girl, wrong side of every line

every day, war
i try to write, but all i do is time
and every day is every day i've wasted
and every morning is another day to end
and every day, i plant these words
for the soul in my wounds
and your bone-chilling curse
you'll miss me when the angels haunt your grave
every morning is another day to end is the mood for 2021
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