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Poetria Mar 2016
Thought #1:
We all got together, the 12 of us.
We sat in a circle and remembered
the old days, the good days;
the only days.
We talked, we laughed, we cried.
We came back to life.

Thought #2:
We all got together, the 12 of us.
One of us left when it became a little too much, and locked herself in a room alone. I don't know what you guys found so funny. I wanted to know, and I didn't want to.

Thought #3:
We all got together, the 12 of us.
The circle was a gaping black hole,
or maybe my vision was blurring.
I left when the tears threatened to spill.
You followed me. She followed you.

1:26 A.M

Thought 4:
It wasn't a circle, it was an oval.
They weren't happy, they were delirious.

Thought 5:**
You followed me. She followed you.
I was sitting by the window.
She sat in front of me.
You stood there and watched me paint pictures on the glass.
You kissed me. I kissed you back.

Thought 6:
You kissed me.
I pulled away.
She kissed you.
It looked painful.

Thought 7:
She kissed you.
I went back to the circle.
Everybody was gone.
I sat alone in the middle of the room.

Thought 8:
She kissed you.
I waited.
You pulled away.
I smiled.
Everybody was gone.
We watched The Book Of Life.
We cried.

1:28 A.M

Thought 9:
We all got together, the 12 of us.
We all sat in an oval and
remembered the only days.
We talked, we laughed, we cried.  
For once, we all felt alive.

Thought 10:
We all got together, the 12 of us.
We were strangers.
We smiled and talked about life.
We laughed over silly jokes.
We ate pizza.
We said our goodbyes.

1:29 A.M

Thought #11:
We never got together, the 12 of us.
We forgot about each other.
We left all of it behind.
We focused on our new lives.

1:30 A.M
- - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - -
edited out some parts I hated
Poetria Aug 2019
18 crept in with the quiet illusion of comfort

in the flakes of snow outside Gloria Jean

on a Sunday afternoon
, sipping something

warm and letting the cold seep into my skin

only to burrow myself into a warm blanket

. 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

, 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

, 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
Poetria Jun 2016
I'll keep on stealing
pieces of the sky
Until I can spread
my wings and fly.

I'll keep on cutting chunks
Out of the moon
So I can build a ship from them
So I can see you soon.

I'll keep on pocketing
fragments of this
universal universe
until I get mine back.
They robbed me of you, so I'll rob them too.
Poetria Dec 2015
She's the kind of person who can capture fragments of the universe in her writing,
but never the whole of it.
She likes to wonder about strange little things,
but she's so ordinary.
She's the same as the rest of us,
or so it may seem.
But there's just something so enticing about her,
something that draws you in when you hear her speak.
Maybe it's the way she creates pictures with her hands,
or maybe it's the way her eyes take on a faraway glow of mirth,
and mystery when she's thinking.
She isn't perfect,
she's far from it and she knows.
But you could stare at her all day,
perhaps counting her quirks or her flaws.
Or even just spend your time
listening to the wisdom spilling out of her mind.
You'd wish she were yours.
She'd wish for much more.
She'd watch the stars from afar
But she'd never think of herself as one.

I'm tilted at an awkward angle,
dangling on the last letter of "unsure"
because she could never belong to anyone.
She could never be yours.
She's never been mine.
But for now, it's working. It's alright.
**It's almost fine.
I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you this,
but I think I'm in love with you.
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
Poetria Aug 2016
It's spilling from your ears.
I've used up all my tears.
They're falling from your nose.
I need to let it go.

I'll pick up
all the ***** bits
you think
will never truly fit
and you can
continue trying
to come across
like you're fine,
go on, keep lying,
I'll just hide
what's fallen
out of your mind
and into mine
this time
I'll treasure these feelings,
this thought
our time.
I wrote this two months ago.
It's funny how feelings grow
and time slows.
Poetria Nov 2016
perhaps the question
is not of who we are in our minds
but instead
where we have wound up to be
with the passage of time-
and time--
ticking seconds,
the blinking of eyes-
multiplied by the capacity
of a would-be lived life-
it could also be a question of
when we will reach
that place, or the faces
where our ends will soon meet
with the path of a victim
to the realms infinite;
lost in time- losing grip-
no control of our minds, tell me-
*do you see what I see in
the blink of an eye?
Do tell.
Poetria Jan 2017
If you have done a little breaking,
you have been a little broken.
Poetria Jul 2016
Another fight against
Another thoughtful night.

Another sleepless plight.
Another hour to hide.
Another day to realise.

There's so many things
that aren't right
in this life.

Another mug of coffee;
The burn against my palms.

Another night to choose.
Another choice of harm.

Another aching heart,
Another thoughtless write.

Another failed attempt
at spilling grains of truth
from my mind.
I feared the addiction.
Poetria Jun 2016
My dearest friend,

My love for you
Does not come crashing
with the winds of the storm.

Nay, rather it comes
with all the funny things that you do,
all the silly pictures that you pose for,
all the sad letters and the cheesy lines
you spew from your arrogant mind.

I know that I should not be happy
when I recieve the sadness that you bleed, broken bottles full of need.

But I cannot help loving you
for all that you are.
I adore the poetry.
I also adore you.

I hope we can talk soon, really talk, just the two of us in our fragile pocket of this universe. Just me. Just you.
Reply soon.

Sincerely, yours indeed.
Yeah, I just turned your text message into a Shakespearean letter. Why? I'm out of ideas.
Poetria Feb 10
i have seen you dancing with trees
warm, familiar breeze like air that is sweet
in here, you appear, you dance into being
behind my eyes, always, you're watching me breathe
you observe autumn, stretching on beyond decree
opposite these falling leaves,
you are rosy cheeks and beaming teeth
but i insisted on convincing;
autumn is a beautiful place to be

you are all that i seek,
all i would like to believe is real
i try to remember if you ever liked me
but you are endlessly sunlit,
hued honey-gold, and evergreen
this half-eyed fading lucidity,
the only place we could both complete
so i insist, i am convinced;
autumn is my most beautiful dream
perspective: Autumn is the absolute end of all life

written January 2020
Poetria Oct 2015
I try to write you back,
but were you ever mine to write?
edit: I deleted almost all of it haha
Poetria May 2016
Dripping from the pores of my skin.
Pooling, diluted by the water in the sink.
After three more seconds, I blink.
I'm tired, but I've still got
some thoughts left to think.

I don't have the time for this.
The ink left my skin and left cracks long and thin. I don't have the rhymes for this feeling, but all of my thoughts are threatening to spill.

Even my poems look ill.
The things I once loved look deathly and still. My ghosts refuse to be killed. They eerily smile while I'm writing my lines.

They don't want me to end up alright.
They want me to stay back and fade like their eyes. This ink, it turns blue every night. But there's always some black in there that I hide.

Nobody sees how I try.*
I try to forget, but I end up regretting and here's where my greatest fault lies: *
I refuse to wipe the blackened ink from my life.
I can't sleep at night.
Poetria Jan 2018
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
Poetria May 2015
Words flying through her mind
Scattered, uncoordinated;
Not in a straight line
They all jumble together
To form her persona,
She's a being made with a vocabular aura
Her soul can be read like a scripture.
People go through her like a book
Some don't take care of her.
Others admire, others desire
Others simply need her to complete their set.
Some find beauty in her unique mindset.
Some judge by the cover
Others read and discover
Between the lines
Of her complex mind
Some like her; some don't
She's not a bestseller
Her author is God
Books with blank pages? They tell her
That really is odd
She smiles a small smile
At their shallow train of thought
Then continues her journey
*Built on the words they forgot.
Poetria Nov 2017
I am bruises on your leg
I'm the backhand to your face
leaving marks, opening scars
showcasing your mistakes


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


(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.
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
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)
Poetria Jun 2016
My clean slate
Has your name written
On every inch of its surface.

A new beginning
Stained with the thought
*"If things went a little differently,
We could have made the greatest team."
Not-so clean slate, it would seem.
Poetria Mar 2017
Do not build your house
upon the clouds
because while they look able
they fall apart
like the best of us
when their load amounts
to more than they were created for
they open up and pour
and feed the greens of the floor
and I know they sound
promising to visit
but I'll let you know
don't float too close
because they lose their brilliance
and are much more shallow
than the rain they pour
had you assuming
Maybe live on a field in a place it's almost always raining; precipitation is just the fallen pieces of a cloud after all.
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
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.
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.
Poetria Jun 2015
Thoughts from one mind,
Transferred to another.
From one pair of lips,
Words are exchanged
With the other.
A mutual bond
Is discovered.
Agreement, disagreement,
Friendship, lovers.
These words can be sharp
And cut to your heart.
These words can be sweet,
But not necessarily smart.
They can end lives,
They can cause anger to rise.
Conversation is dangerous
In some situations.
Conversation is life-saving
If the thoughts uttered are wise.
Poetria Jan 2016
I want to rip you
out of this place
and throw you far away.
Only to find you
dancing between
my skin
and my ribcage.
Blow by blow,
You weaken the bones
And into my heart
you'll break.
You're just another
careless mistake
I never intended to make
Despite the fight
I try to win
against my blinded self.
I'll always find you
*why can't love go to hell?
Love is no heavenly emotion.
Poetria Aug 2016
I learnt alot
in the past year
or so.
The empty ticking
of the hanging clock
on my bedroom wall
ended months ago.
I learnt emptiness
can consume
a soul.
I learnt miles
can distance you
from a burning hope
you thought would always
ignite your weakened bones.
The roundabout
I can see from my window.
Mislead people in cars
swerving in circles
They see flashing lights
they drive away
and hide
Where my street ends
empty space begins.
Cul De Sac.
I learnt that
Most of what I do
eventually turns out
to become a Cul De Sac.
I've learnt alot
about you.
Where I go, when I go.
Poetria Nov 2017
trying to hide it;
indecisiveness is a curse in a world where you can either be one thing or the other
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 Jun 2017
We kept each other
tucked safely in our pockets.
We forgot to take care of ourselves.
We were bad for each others' health.
Poetria May 2015
During the day,
My brain is in chains,
At night it breaks out of its cage.

During the night,
My dreams, they take flight;
And I wish they would give me a fright.
Edited on July 25th, 2015
Edited again.
Poetria Jan 2017
I was
genuinely hoping
that our love
could be a winner,
trying to believe
there was a possibility
for you & me
to be.

But maybe
we are both just
confused, holy sinners
dying to live
inside our unholy
Or don't, please don't.
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 Jun 2017
I let myself go,
and I float among the clouds,
hiding behind this infinite sun,
for this time, I will be no one.

Unnoticed I go,
and I never come back too soon,
because the stars are so much closer
and I have feelings for the moon.

I left a long time ago,
I remember living in pollution,
down where the trees struggle to breath
down where reality was choking me.

I won't be back home tomorrow,
so don't call me down, don't be sad;
I'll be back when I'm ready to realise
I'm no longer a weightless ghost.
(I'll heal better on my own.)
Poetria Jun 2017
I was feeling so much,
I could hardly speak
and I was missing your hugs,
I could barely breath
in the absence of
Jasmine deodorant
you never sprayed
on the pages
of the scrapbook
you gave me
and it took me since April
to realise
we were a whirlwind,
romantic, one of a kind
type of scene
and it's always been
harder for me
to replay the part where
you tell me never again,
to you, to speak.
Just two kids, stupid and fearless.
Poetria Jan 2016
We danced until our time was up
We sang until our lungs collapsed
We wrote until our fingers bled
this love was endless
Lightning struck & now my heart's stuck
Poetria Apr 2016
Dreaming of eternal sleep
A place to breathe
for you and me.

Somewhere there's no logic
And fluffy clouds instead of smog.
A place where our judgement
Isn't clouded by confusing fog.

Wishing for another world.
A place where we could choose
Who we get to be with and
Who we want to be.

Yearning for internal peace
Where thoughts of you
put me to sleep.

Instead of missing you
**For once, I'd get to choose.
I either oversleep or I don't sleep at all; there is no in between. Sleep takes me away from this place, but being awake keeps me away from that other world I've created: There's no true escape.
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
Poetria Mar 2016
Your kiss has left blisters across my lips that are only visible to me. I feel them sting whenever I try to pull my mouth into the curve of a grin; smiling is agony.
Ouch. Lip balm anyone?
Poetria Sep 2016
Is it really special
If he tells you your hair smells
like freshly picked strawberries?

Does it make you smile
When he compliments the dress
you bought from some vintage store
where they've got hundreds more?

Would you call it love
If you watched the same shows
and could talk endlessly about them
but there was nothing more?

I'd hate to burst your bubble,
but strawberry shampoo is global,
and that dress won't sell out in years,
and those shows will eventually get old.
We live under clouds of delusion and hope.
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 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 give me your traditionalistic,
misogynistic, conservative values
and expect me to digest them
like my favourite kind of chips,

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.
Poetria Dec 2015
Close your eyes
Stop screaming
Everything's fine
*They're just feelings
The best things hurt.
Poetria Aug 2015
Long lashes hide
wide camel-shaped eyes

The lies and the fights
Would keep me up at night

My feelings ran deep,
our conversations unique

Unlabelled but cursed;
Of concerns not your first

Didn't last long, but I'm still unable
To think of a perfect enough label...

Tangled curls
and hazel pearls

Similiar thoughts,
but I loved you alot

Had me curious, girl
thought you were my world

Music, books & poetic art
You'd completely stolen my heart

Furthermore, it was twice that I fell
for your breathtaking aura, your dazzling spell.

Eyes; chocolate brown
made my cautious heart pound

The glances we shared,
oh how I would stare!

Gorgeous, though shy
made the butterflies soar high

'Twas awkward once you knew
and our friendship was doomed

Four months, made me feel
had me head over heels


Got my heels under head
Now those feelings are dead.
// Just a random poem about a couple of
people I liked in the last chapter of my life //
Poetria Sep 2016
Swimming pool,
water burning my eyes.
Thoughts of you
tickling my frail mind.
Your words really influence mine. ♡
Poetria Aug 2015
I'm an embarrasment
I'm a disgrace
I'm just human...
// Because every flaw leads to being human. //
Poetria Dec 2015
We're all just silhouettes bowing down to candlelight,
anticipating the*  thrill  *of being burnt.
We never learn.
Poetria Oct 2015
Because when you live on a sphere,
there's nowhere to run.
You'll just keep running until you get tired, and accept defeat.
When your options of freedom deceive you,
when they add up to some other form of what you're going through,
there's nothing much you can do.
Because when everybody around you breaks their word
and you've got nobody,
what can you really do
but pray the ground doesn't fall through?  
The fragility of trust has yet to be acknowledged, it seems.
I guess I'll just keep walking down this never ending road,
because I've nowhere else I can really go.
And maybe I'll find another unfortunate being, as lost as I am.
Maybe we could work this out together.
*Maybe we can all someday, somehow
Find our way home.
1:00 A.M thoughts.
I believe that it's the most hopeless situations that spark the fire of hope within us.
The most hopeless things,
they give us inspiration to write a mile of verses about hope.
Poetria Apr 2019
i need you now
the sky stays dark for longer
and when it's pretty it's so so far


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


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


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.
Poetria Oct 2016
Through insomniac nights
a fuzzy grey mouse and I
coexist under lamplight.

My sleeping routine,
it's far from a dream
but my buddy and me,
we feel free.

He stays in the shadows
Collecting little bites
of leftover dinner to eat.

He comes out at night
and scuttles in this light;
he's put his trust in me.

I honour my promises,
and mice have their rights
so I vow to tell nobody.

So when I can't sleep-
in secret we meet,
my fuzzy grey friend
and me.
P.S When I wrote this, HE SQUEAKED!
Poetria Nov 2015
The ghost of me
It watches you sleep
Silently weeping
While you're hopelessly dreaming

The ghost of me
Wonders where you've been
Wonders why people always leave
Wonders about the things she never could keep

The ghost of me
Chokes on your screams
Cries out for your silent pleas
Unnoticed, a t r a n s p a r e n t screen

The ghost of me
It quietly grieves
Loud sobs of devotion
Sad moans of emotion

*The ghost of me
Will always be your creep
the ghost of me
Hopes this you'll read...
Poetria Feb 2017
I suppose,
when you have felt the high
and you have also felt
at an all time low,
all you really want
is to feel it all over again
or to feel nothing at all.

So you sit on the side of the pavement
just a little outside safe but
just enough over the line,
accepting the danger
you may be forced to face.

Anxious and excited,
or sometimes nothing at all
and you sit there all alone until
you are sitting there
no more.
I think it's called overthinking, but I'll just think over that some more.
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