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It's been seven years
Of mostly sad poems
Filled with my darkness and fears
And sprinkle a little
Happy energy
All spun together
Into this poetry account

It's been seven years
Taken me seven years
To acknowledge the fun I have
Writing poetry
Reading poetry
Processing poetry
I'm happy
Thankful for this platform
Thank you Eliot York :)
And thank you my Lord for everything :) Felt like writing something a little fun and unconventional respective to my usual poetry. I've been writing poetry for longer, but seven years is how many of them I've been on this platform exclusively
Angry distasteful stare
Eyes squinted, affronted glare
In all her care, uncaring
Unwanting of any responsibility
Associated with falsehood
'You're unreasonable'
Emanates without being spoken

How can you begin to even think for yourself
Think of the validity of your perspective
When you're caught overwhelmed and mocked
Belittled in what you think is fair
And I'm stuck with that stare
And you without a care
So often I'm labelled over-sensitive, overly emotional, undermined. It makes me wonder how many people out there would treat my emotions as I'd want them to, with the care, understanding and attentiveness that I desire but do not often receive. Makes me feel distance from those that should be dear to me. Makes no sense, when I'm asked why I don't talk as much as I listen.
Drawn out silence
The seeker and the sought
What would the power imbalance have been
If the sought could only speak

It's overwhelming
To expect and expect
Only to receive silence
Deemed unworthy of attention
Unworthy of acknowledgement

What would the conversation have been
Had there been even a single word
In response
But silence
And a refusal to reciprocate
Such that should they eventually speak
Their words begin to take on that emptiness
And the void grows larger
And already
The upset begins to lose itself in an endless void
And you're stuck in place

How could you forget
When all around you is that silence, resounding
How could you forget
When all this time your ears desired, awaiting
A response they'd never have.
Yanamari Nov 19
Loud and young
My voice rung
Free in its burdens
Overwhelmed in yearning

Loud and young
My voice blurred
Mixed and buried
In unsettling surroundings, unheard


Whisper scream
Moon for company
Burdens blur simmering
Over clawing emptiness

Slurred speech
Between few
You know
I know you

Like a poor man's stain glass art
Salvaging beauty in broken sentences
What sense would you tell me it would make
To break glass of different colour to make a singular beautiful piece
When that is all I have to work with,
Broken glass
And no glue to piece them
Trying to consciously choose words that are a little cryptic is my usual style, sometimes it takes more time and sometimes it comes naturally
Yanamari Nov 9
On the back of my hand
My arm
I leave a kiss
Warmth spreading
Goosebumps rising
Mind settling

My love
What more can I give you
What more can I show you
At the limit of my being
My love
What more can I fault you
What more can I demean you
Knowing the fault of my character
But struggling to fix it
My love
Love you so that
You love me
My love
I often think about the story of Narcissus, the youth who spurned his suitors and chose himself over all else...
Yanamari Nov 1
Limit my interactions
Think before I speak
What purpose comes in order
Will the words that escape my mouth
Hurt me more
Or will they take me to a more peaceful place
I know the dance
I know the steps
My body feels them ingrained
And so maybe this time
I'll take a moment to think
Before my body moves along
With the tune being played
Before I step on broken glass
Because I forsook shoes
In a room that I took as familiar
Why does this keep happening
Yanamari Oct 29
I open my mouth and
No heads turn
What am I to do
If I can't be heard
Do I level mountains
Or raise waves?

It's not in my nature
It's not my way
I can't help my mellowness
I can't help my gentle sway

I want to be seen
Seen as me
Seen for what I can't show
For what I can't feel
Asking for what I don't have?
What I can't be
I'd rather die
Leave me be

So I hold it all in
The tumult and the fray
How could I ask for help
When when I open my mouth
No heads turn
And I'm left echoing into space
I often have an issue with people not hearing me when I talk. My voice is audible, my voice is clear, but for some reason it's as if I didn't speak at all. And so I wonder why that could be.
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