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Dec 2019 · 58
The Bell Jar
Poetria Dec 2019
i know
i make people look prettier behind my eyes
i say i'm no good at painting, but the picture's always beautiful within my mind
there's a line between these realms i like to say distorts things
and the images procreated are built like the story of a man who saved the world

he rescued coats and sweaters and nuns and cows and little me when i fractured my elbow on a regular school day, hospital visits fast becoming a source of adventure
he appeared out of thin air, magic, like that trick where i have to guess if he's furious or pretending to be
he would tickle my soul, bringing fountains of laughter, water like tears in a quiet corner between a wardrobe and the wall, lights out, hiding
he gave the loveliest hugs and the greatest tasting dairy milk bubbly's on sunday's back from belfast with me puppy-like demanding his affection and time
he promised horses and swimming pools and freedom of choice,
and he promised to be honest,
broke my heart a few times

i know
that sometimes you find the most brilliant person and you fall in love with them but soon the world takes a good thing from you and you make up for the imperfections, and you're begging for this love to be something that could replace your heartbreak that never could end

you know
that you delight in the nature of things that have the potential to be harmful, people who you convince yourself are exactly the way you see them through the windows of your rose-coloured, thorn-bleeding eyes

i fear
that the history of everything keeps you reading one book a thousand times and you can never move on from anything or anyone
Sylvia Plath wrote one novel in her lifetime, a semi-autobiographical little book that held the most truth mixed in with fiction, probably being the reason why it feels so much more real than any completely fictional or nonfictional thing. I think that if i write a book, i might have to add so much of myself in the book to make it tangible and vivid enough to create the desired effect of being real enough, while not being about me in my phtsical life. I think I'd write my own version of The Bell Jar. It's scary how much I can relate to Sylvia Plath, fully knowing a genius like herself still took her own life- casually so, at the end. So here is a snippet of something that isn't a poem, or a book. and poetic prose sounds sort of pitifully like an aesthetic piece of writing, which this also couldn't be.
Dec 2019 · 219
difference, indifference
Poetria Dec 2019
cold air is burning my face but the feeling is muffled, far away.
i look at you, stoic menace.
you are a block of ice and i am a flurry of snowflakes, raging, cold, soft.
you ask me what the heart speaks.
i do not know how to tell you what emotion is, just like i do not know how to explain to you what i am.

(things far too familiar are seldom easy to translate into a language someone might understand, a language that is not your own, a language you've forgotten the taste of)

mountains on my shoulders feel lighter than they should, and you take lightness to mean of less matter.
perhaps you think these mountains have a hollow center, are made of feathers.
you and i are two different forms of water.
i have known ice, and you have known snow, years before today.
i have known stagnance, you have known change, you took the word like an icicle to your chest, falling too far into your cave.
pull me out, you say, and i am frost lining your windowsill.
leave me be, you say, and you are a dull fog, whispering to glass.
through your glass, we interact.
you are trapped.
i want to see you cry for hours and never stop until you run out of what's made you so cold.
Poetria Oct 2019
the cloud escapes me
when i am far, it floats further away
when i am close, it is lost forever
what we see, then, is it true?

i try to find you
but you are far, and further
now you are closer, disappearing
soon, you are gone; you were never here
inspired by tyler lockwoods '5pm, last week of october')
Oct 2019 · 272
today i witnessed morning
Poetria Oct 2019
orange flower flicker shy
pinprick of light, puncture the sky
break the day, hold my face
kiss this sleeping heart awake
even the shadows have a softer outline
Sep 2019 · 277
ocean sleep
Poetria Sep 2019
i am the silt of the ocean bed
falling into places i am not meant for
swept away from where i would like to be
floating, drifting into scene
sinking, falling back to sleep
pun intended
Aug 2019 · 169
i, you
Poetria Aug 2019
i don't want to wait for six years
to make you wait for six years
to spend a year doing everything with you
and then leave you like a poem i won't complete

because if i can't wake up to you

watch all your movies and listen to your music
as we lounge on this brown leather couch

the air cold and our blanketed bodies warm
as sunset pours through the unfixed blinds

then i don't want to have you at all

have you like microplastic pieces of a straw
have you like a trailer, a prologue

but i do
i do
i am ******, not damsel
perpetual blue

the poems whisper something new,
sweetness that resembles you

but i don't want resemblance i want you
like the shock of electric current i stumble into
and i don't want to ask myself if i'd like to
kiss you
hold you
have you

i want to know and i know,
i never will do

i want to run from the idea,
i want it to be true

the i ends all too soon,
and the you will too
Taylor once said she writes to process how she feels about things that happen to her, to make sense of it all. I realise I do the same.
Aug 2019 · 171
18
Poetria Aug 2019
18
18 crept in with the quiet illusion of comfort

in the flakes of snow outside Gloria Jean
's

on a Sunday afternoon
, sipping something

warm and letting the cold seep into my skin

only to burrow myself into a warm blanket

afterwards
. 18, upon arrival, was gifted

with gorgeousness writ by a favorite friend
.

However, 18 came quietly, the world

defining her before she could have spoken to

me herself
. 18 began to hurt, trying to find

what she was born to be rather than what

she was being molded into
. 18, like snow,

was fragile. 18 had been January, and

then just as fast
, she is March. 18 is script-

writing with Mahnoor again
, just like 15,

16, 17, familiarity. 18 is confusion and

panic
, a growing sense of unease,

muffling a voice in my head trying its

hardest to be heard
. Upon seeing April, 18

did not desire this trip anymore. But the

Spring brought whispers of vanilla and a boy

with the softest smile in a place of pain
. 18

was running off to corners of life, trying to

escape the stench of dying that had taken to

following her around
. 18 survived May, 18

survived June. 18 fell into July, a house

of gloom
, and decided to settle in the

month
, if only the month would settle for

18. The world was calling her, but she

would not be seen
. 18 ran back to the long-

awaited cold
, overcome with joy for the

numbered days
, a birthday again, a

bittersweet break
, an ache for escape.

But 18 walked away from July, and

found herself in August
, quite by surprise.

And August, she realizes, can be

anything she likes
.
August is ambiguous
#18
Jul 2019 · 262
in my head
Poetria Jul 2019
through text, reflect,
this horror set,
was all inside my head

a million moons were changing,
they were spinning like a top

the sun a little scalding,
and the cats were getting lost

my summer suffered silence,
but my colder winds were soft

and i am breeding guilt
for the things this mind begot

these worms are only eating,
and the worms were made from God

my heart, with little beating,
barely breathing, blood would clot

a lack of light, adjusting eyes,
and laughter half forgot

'neath July skies, i realised,
in living, i was not
i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost
the room is on fire, invisible smoke
i'm drowning but quiet, on oceans i choke
help me hold onto you
(T.S, The Archer)
Jul 2019 · 421
excerpt
Poetria Jul 2019
i want to write a poem about you,
but your smile has stolen the words i would use

the spring brought these flowers,
and now summer has bloomed
edit: i cut the pretentious first two couplets out
Jun 2019 · 493
purgatory
Poetria Jun 2019
purgatory
is sick in sweetness,
a cannibal and a chewed up girl

there is no place for us except these stairs
you are a meadow and i am the sea;
purgatory
a hidden space, the outcast place

did i tell you that i love to go where they cannot find me?
did i tell you i have a habit of running, without my feet?
did i tell you about the holy events in my recurring dream?
that i am invisible, and you're looking at me?


a pirate of less wicked ways,
a sunrise on my darkest day
and if we should die, here we will lay
for with me, in purgatory
you might choose to stay
now these butterflies are feasting
Jun 2019 · 255
chaos
Poetria Jun 2019
moon eclipses,
oceans are black
and then, the sun

run away, run toward
marathon breathing
and another year gone

things looked better from afar;
you looked better from afar

now these butterflies are feasting
(read it like 4 thoughts that come together to tell a story)
Jun 2019 · 252
rooftops
Poetria Jun 2019
what a pity it is

there are no stars in our sky

but we're city kids, we're the big one eight

we make do with the faraway lights
it's less of Shakespeare and more of an I'll have what he's having
Jun 2019 · 213
teeth and talk
Poetria Jun 2019
you walk in, you're talking but there's something darker lurking
you talk and i say hey, me too, but you're smirking, you're not searching
you bare your fangs and bite my neck like i'm only here for eating
you're finished fast, you throw me back, it doesn't stop the bleeding

i don't want to smile for you, your hungry eyes are blazing
i don't want to smile as you stare at my mouth in waiting
i don't want to smile, i want to punch your teeth out, break them

i'll glare at your fangs until they rot,
i'll brush my teeth until they gleam
i'll pull them out, i'll twist and tug
i'll stitch my gums up, paint a frown

do i want to be like you,
or the opposite of your being?
do i want to get along,
or insist on disagreeing?
it is exhausting feeling this way towards someone you'll have to know for life
May 2019 · 208
molasses
Poetria May 2019
secrecy, is it crime?
i keep mine, they stay untried
is it wrong, is it okay?
spun of spider silk, delicate

still, a whisper of what can be
but whispering is hard to hear
short; percussive string strain
sweet like sugar on your tongue,
not molasses from a cane

where is the drowning now?
i wouldn't know what to do with molasses anyway
May 2019 · 197
Summer
Poetria May 2019
paint me in your delication,
softer beams of coloured shape
golden grins, exhileration
oh how i hope to laugh again

salty odour, shiny face
born of sunlight, yellow taste
kiss me 40°, cascade waves
drink me up, I'm yours today

sunset eyelids curl in smirk
bluer skies have been upturned
parallels, and play pretend
summer then, summer again
'every summer is life-changing', you said.
Apr 2019 · 90
Friend
Poetria Apr 2019
i need you now
the sky stays dark for longer
and when it's pretty it's so so far

friend,

i reached out
though my ability to reach is weak
you didnt reach back far enough
for that i am sorry

friend,

i think i broke my own heart this year
its not a spray of sadness its
the discomfort in a forced hug by my father its
my mothers tired eyes my sisters urgency my brothers pain its

wanting to die but being too afraid
wanting to live but feeling too restrained
wishing i was five years old so i could be forgiven for the way ive been living
and the fear is crawling through my body every moment im awake

failure is so close now, regret will soon follow

and the saddest songs make me want to get up and dance

friend,

i need help but im too proud to ask
I never listened to the playlist you made me on my birthday. You know, and i should, and i sincerely mean to.
Dec 2018 · 280
Sea
Poetria Dec 2018
Sea
close my eyes
and there is no sound now
the waves delicately
lick my feet
and I'm rooted in my place
almost like I'm waiting,
begging for their taste

I stumble on old rocks
as they push me around
I am not drowning now
but I remember
this is how it felt
before I last drowned

close my eyes
and I feel the water
pulling me down
I am on my knees
and there are whispers
leaking into my ears
whispers I had given to the sea
the sea that I thought would help me

but my ears hurt
and I push to the surface
and now I am screaming
for I am the whispers
I am now all of the sea

the wind is biting
the air is so cold
I am only skin, bone
it is all I can feel is me
a heart losing it's beat
a voice that cannot speak
noiseless yet loud
I am the sea
I'll always write about the Sea
Poetria Dec 2018
are you the pieces put finely together,
or are you a togetherness, pulling apart?

and what lies in the in-between,
the borderlines, the crevices?

those things that bled
from your mind into hidden places

what did you lose in the battle of wits,
what did the darkness hide?
wrote this a while ago and it's just been collecting dust
Dec 2018 · 735
secrecy
Poetria Dec 2018
without my secrets I am naked
the exposition would feel strange
but I am not my secrets

they are a fragile sheath
I prefer to keep tucked underneath
but they are not me

every piece of art
is defined differently
to each living being
a multitude of meanings

just like the eye
is our all-telling piece
in this gallery it speaks
a multitude of stories
I haven't written a single poem in ten months, so this is me trying to remember how to write again.
Poetria Mar 2018
You loved the stars
so the stars grew to love you
and the stars said 'stay away'
but you felt entitled to them
they said 'don't come too close'
but you persisted, you resisted
and you reached out
to take what was yours
-
you hurt yourself in your delusion
yet you blamed the stars
for scorching your heart;
you wrote your own tragedy
and the stars, the stars,
they will always burn
for you
I once loved someone. They loved me too, in a way. I assumed that meant their love belonged to me. But it's only a kindness to love and be loved back, I realise now, and you are not entitled to receive the love you choose to give.
Feb 2018 · 3.1k
Daisy chains or routine
Poetria Feb 2018
The only love I want to feel anymore
is the love of the Sea, of the trees, of mountains and rainbows and beautiful buildings, flowers and strangers and poetry, animals and books and art and everything alive,
everything I can only catch glimpses of, everything I need, which I don't have.

I need the love of the Earth, not it's people.
I'll start writing more seriously after my exams in May, but here's something for now
Poetria Feb 2018
we are patients in a ward
all just healing from this storm

I am tired of the mess you make
I am scared for my tomorrow
I sleep all day to stay far away
but I'm forced again to wake

how do we get better
while the storm rages on
I've found a distaste for my writing beginning to form in my heart and now my words are lifeless too. Great.
Feb 2018 · 873
stagnant waters
Poetria Feb 2018
I feel calm this time around

there are no waves left now

to accompany the melancholy

there is just a warm yellow sun

and I am a lake left in desolation

and sadness can be heard

in the silence of my being

and it is not beautiful

like the Sea
Jan 2018 · 1.1k
Blurring the lines
Poetria Jan 2018
colourblind
to traffic lights
but I know how they're
supposed to look

I walk along
a thinning kerb
frequently falling
stumbling along

nothing stops me
I stay on the edge
this line between safety
and imminent death
what punctuation? ;P
Jan 2018 · 557
No matter how I try
Poetria Jan 2018
You'll come to find
my mouth is filled with
almosts & maybes
with unspoken hellos
forgotten goodbyes
no matter how I try

I wish I could tell you
to ignore the things I say
listen to the colours in my smile
the expression of my eyes
language fails to communicate
no matter how I try
the battle with anxiety continues. it's not as romantic as all this.
Jan 2018 · 4.1k
Sunkissed
Poetria Jan 2018
the fog is slowly clearing up
and spring is colouring the hills
I'm not chaining daisies anymore
I'm kissing yellow daffodils
inspired by troye sivan
Poetria Jan 2018
I am
a soul on stilts
a painted face
with coloured pockets
and layers of skin

I am
living in blue
thinking in green
dreaming of colours
I've never seen
Jan 2018 · 317
The artist is no vessel
Poetria Jan 2018
we are skin
we are bone
until we step
out from the comfort of our shell
until we make holes in the fabric
of our infinite depth
until we accept hurt and love
and our own mistakes
we are empty bodies
until we embrace our soul
Happy New Year guys :)
Dec 2017 · 545
In script...
Poetria Dec 2017
Let me ensnare you
here in the spaces
between these lines
pouring desire from
the recesses of my mind
let my words flow like
ice water down your spine
for in script, you are now mine
Incomplete, but I didn't like the second verse much so it is what it is :P
Dec 2017 · 534
but the poet is not poetry
Poetria Dec 2017
Perhaps I do not want to be poet
but to be the poetry
you carve into yourself
to be the thought
right before you close your eyes
to be the smile
climbing up your cheeks
to be your sunrise,
sunset, stars and sky
to be your moonlight,
and reflect your Oceanic blue
I do not know who you are anymore,
but I want to inspire flowers
from your mind
,
and I want to be able
to call you mine.
but she wants to be
Nov 2017 · 873
Cursed
Poetria Nov 2017
divided,
undecided,
trying to hide it;
struggling.
indecisiveness is a curse in a world where you can either be one thing or the other
Nov 2017 · 1.6k
Parallels
Poetria Nov 2017
the composer, the symphony
the poet, the poetry
the artist, the masterpiece

the poet
is no poetry.
the artist
is no masterpiece.

the instrument,
until played,
carries no melody.

these conflicting qualities
could never meet.

~
I'm a poet, so I could never be the poem.
Nov 2017 · 1.3k
Phases of the moon
Poetria Nov 2017
quiet, stolen brightness
oh, it doesn't belong to me
but this sky is your black ceiling,
I'm just trying to be seen
and I see you-
I see you-
I see you shying away, yes
every few days, there's less,
every month the same cycle,
over and over again
and you don't know
how much is too much
and you don't know
when you'll be enough
and you're stuck
cutting those pieces
and you struggle
to bring them back
back to largeness,
back to circular-
insecurity,
phases of the moon,

and the Sun does smirk
in the morning blue.
write this whole thing solely for the last two lines? does that make sense?
Nov 2017 · 1.4k
but I'm not you
Poetria Nov 2017
I am bruises on your leg
I'm the backhand to your face
leaving marks, opening scars
showcasing your mistakes

so
much
pain,
so
much
pain.

light up this sky
let your fire burn this blackness,
set them off, stinging
and leave my heart ringing
with the silence surrounding
this gaping, empty space

so
much
pain,
so
much
pain.

(i push you away and i forget
but some days i look you in the eye;
it's coming back to me now)

it's back to *laughing as tears fall

it's back to shaking with fear
it's back to getting slammed into being
the smallest particle I could be


*I'm back to 9 on my birthday
or was it 8, I don't remember, 7

your fire flows
inside my blood now
something darker,
purely sinful

There is no more pain.

I have become everything you hate.
I've always loved winter.
Oct 2017 · 2.0k
grey-green (catastrophe)
Poetria Oct 2017
big smile for the crowd,
yes, you smile for them now,
those eyes aren't allowed,
green eyes, they're so loud,
bitterly sweet, green,
laughing at me,
I'm spiralling now,
yes, I'm spiralling down
a staircase with ends
that could never meet,
and she's pretty, so pretty,
it seems meant to be,
it seems you could never
be meant for me, green.
I know, it's nothing profound.
Oct 2017 · 398
Fear and loathing
Poetria Oct 2017
Don't you exhale around me.
Don't give me that poisoned air
spilling back out of your trachea
like it's fresh and healthy,
don't.

Don't you pretend the pieces fit,
that the glass is still transparent
that this box you've built
never broke in the first place,
don't.

Don't give me your traditionalistic,
misogynistic, conservative values
and expect me to digest them
like my favourite kind of chips,
don't.  

Don't you breathe in my space anymore. Don't you do that again.
I've been crying over you for over an hour you *******. Fix this.
Oct 2017 · 1.0k
Hey moon, don't you go down.
Poetria Oct 2017
You followed me home, winking,
grinning with your yellow teeth.

I know you like your loneliness
but don't leave me here alone;
I'm in love with your melancholy,
your crevices, my home
.
(I stole the title from a band lyric)
Oct 2017 · 411
Sunset above the lake
Poetria Oct 2017
When our problems look smaller,
the good becomes greater,
the sky fails to fall at our feet.

Drink up the horizon,
pink stripes heading East,
the sky stays upright while it's sweet.
Sep 2017 · 594
Conscientous Remembrance
Poetria Sep 2017
My conscience
carries your voice,
it wears your face;
I'm talking to you
when I think to myself.
My heart's back but my mind may never return.
Sep 2017 · 412
Coming to a close
Poetria Sep 2017
16 years older
our faces painted over
wasting time to feel the rush
classic self-destruction
still, we are children
older, not different
pretending to be
bigger than the universe
and we are that, we are indeed-

-our facepaint glowing
a multicoloured mixture
in the sunlight now
and our heads are
loosening once again
16 years younger
as clocks chase the future
and we waste our time  
because we still can.
pretty much.
#16
Sep 2017 · 327
Try as I might
Poetria Sep 2017
I try to be
everything she's not
as if it's almost by default
as if I hate the real truth
of her very existence,
but that's not true.

I try to be
everything she's not,
so people know
we aren't the same person,
so people know
I am my own creation.

But if I try so hard
to be this other person,
am I still myself?

Am I anybody anymore?
Still finding myself, when I think I know myself so well.
Sep 2017 · 279
Coffee
Poetria Sep 2017
My heart, it beats
under influence of caffeine
and sugar pulls my smile up,
and I wonder if this is suicide
but I take my coffee with sugar,
and smile and smile and smile.
caffeine = high blood pressure
Sep 2017 · 349
Undisturbed artefact
Poetria Sep 2017
undisturbed artefact
buried in the past
as small as a button
falling from a coat

landing flat, undisturbed.

the smile of your ghost
makes me smile, sometimes sad.


undisturbed artefact
we spun like a spinning top
spiralling, twisting
no control, no turning back

undisturbed artefact,

let love lost lie, undisturbed
beneath warm sands,

let waters rage
but let the sun stay singing
let the sun never stop singing
for love that stayed behind
as lovers seldom stay in that,
an undisturbed artefact.
Excuse the punctuation.
Sep 2017 · 369
Oh blue
Poetria Sep 2017
I stand here waiting
for the stars to adopt me
waiting for the clouds
to engulf me
in their embrace- humid,
waiting for the ground
to crack wide with a smile,
tempting, crooked; cruel.

I will drink your falling tears,
please dry your eyes, blue
and do not burn me with your acid,
they aren't good to you, fools;
*but how do you breathe
their pollution?
Inspired by acid rain...
Sep 2017 · 233
Lost in thought
Poetria Sep 2017
brighter than
the white of lightning
sharper than
the frosty Ocean gales
darker than
the darkest red of sin,
in the crevices of my mind,
you hide.
red is everything difficult, and red i loathe
Sep 2017 · 566
Truly tiring
Poetria Sep 2017
So many words
of wisdom and worth
they crowd in my head
never breaching the surface
and I tire of calling them forth;
I tire of it.

So I pull my smile down
and I sit in my silence
overcome with the exhaustion
of forcing an utterance;
I am never who I seem,
and words do not come easy to me.
Sep 2017 · 355
Somewhere else
Poetria Sep 2017
I can hear you,
the beat in your chest,
it rings in my head;
a wordless lullaby.

I wish
sometimes
that you
could be mine.


But we both know creation
in the cage of my mind,
can only exist
behind my closed eyes.
(This is oddly satisfying, writing about someone who doesn't exist.)
Aug 2017 · 586
a constant ringing sound
Poetria Aug 2017
and i wonder why tonight
my mind is screaming for silence
like a mockery of itself
shouting for a noiseless abyss
begging to be heard in the quiet
and i wonder why tonight
there are so many gaps
in my memory of past events
and i wonder if i lost those moments
or if i chose to throw them away
and i wonder why tonight
the world seems so much nastier
than it's ever been before.
the lack of punctuation is deliberate
Aug 2017 · 328
Love takes over thought
Poetria Aug 2017
I know
that love is crazy,
that it escalates circulation speed,
and it ties your intestines up
into a  heart-shaped balloon.

and you're miserable
because you never asked
for this loss of control.

or maybe you're elated,
because you've always wanted
true love to come for you,
but the only thing in love
that I know
to be consistently true,
is that you're not thinking at all
and if you are,
you're not devoted to
that burst of peculiar emotion
we label as
love.
Love is a trap.
Aug 2017 · 333
The water beneath
Poetria Aug 2017
I needed you once
and you were there
until you weren't
and that's when I learnt
to walk once again
on my own two feet
and now I'm learning
how to step on stones
without touching
the water beneath.
Divided dedication between people I knew.
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