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Day Jan 2015
-

you took a half of me that i didn't know i'd ever notice was missing the second you looked in my eyes and said my name like you'd always known you'd become my greatest tragedy, because you already read from the script

-

i was drawn in by your devil-may-care grin and blinded by an immediate want to be wanted


i fell in love with the way you forgot to be who you thought people expected you to be when you were with me


and when you were with me ( i could almost swear you loved me, too )

-

maybe my confusion grew on the midnights you'd call me and ask me to come lay with you- just lay with you, like i was the only thing that scared away your demons


or maybe it came about when you pressed tears into my skin on a day that was supposed to be about me but ended up being about you and, honestly, i didn't even care what the day started for


either way,


i would've let every day be about you.

-

you never apologized and, if i have forgiven you for anything else because you make me weak,


i will find a way to never forgive you for that

-

i can assure you no woman will ever learn to cherish you like i did


i'll let you live hypothetically, though-

even if one did, i promise you she'd never be able to care about you like i would have if you'd have let me

-

you birthed the meaning of two words for me in those winter months, words my father prayed i'd never have understood

i can sing songs of unrequited affection better than any skylark

and i'm learning to tack melody to a sonnet about healing better than any plant who's lost their sun

-

i wish i didn't miss you this much
-

""Missing" is a part of moving on." - Unknown

Got rid of any lingering feelings about it. About him. I'm content and I've been content, but people keep expecting me to feel so, there. I felt. I've dusted my hands of it. I want to be done. It's been time to close this chapter.
Day Dec 2015
-

it's winter again and here we are, the same loop that caught me up in
your whirlwind last time now making home between your lungs as your head
rests against my shoulder and your face finds a place to nuzzle against my neck.
i wonder what's different as i watch your hand reach for mine and then i realize it's because
i learned to grow without you and grew without you from one long moon to the other.

-

when i called you a sunbird, i didn't mean a phoenix,
even though i didn't know it then.
see, it's been an entire year and i've learned how to create and swallow flames whole and stomp on
the ashes and even though i'd scattered yours and wished for you to rise
from them before, now i wish i'd dug my heels in a little better and cast them all aside
for good, buried you too far that you wouldn't be able to find me again, dosed and
dosed and dosed until there was nothing left of the scuff-mark under an ocean.

-

maybe i'm just bitter.
and some part of me loves it. it's a vicious part, who's still searching for that other half
and knowing now that it was never in your hands and even if it was, it's been passed off
and i won't find it with you.
great tragedies are written for stages of life, not the makeup of entire stories, and
i'm not about repetition. you already got your chapter.

-

there will be days that i start purely about me and that will end purely about me.
regardless of anything, i vow now, that i will make sure of this.
i will find (an)other boy(s) to sleep beside, just sleep beside, and i will love it and you will
hate it and i will love them. i'll be looking at them like i looked at you and you
will look at your phone each time it buzzes and hope it's me and
i won't even think to text you.
i will be selfish, ******, and karma encourages and assures me so.

-

i was willing to wait eternities.
i was willing to wade lava and tread air and hold my breath until you wanted but you chose to
snip the string that held me to your wrist and now i've found freedom in the sky and i feel
broken and torn and incomplete but infinite and i found all of this without you.
you're too impatient, and you keep wanting to 'prove to' me something you and i both know
doesn't exist. only children get mad for getting back what they'd already given out-
and i'm sorry that i'm not for not wanting to be with you.

-

i wish you didn't love me now.

-

i wish it wasn't so easy not to care.
-

Someone once ended a poem with a quote that said ""Missing" is a part of moving on." (- Unknown)
Just in case any skylarks wanted to know how to remedy this ache. Trust me.
Day Sep 2014
Am I selfish for wishing you
would learn to tether yourself to me instead?

If waves were miles and each break an hour,
we could pretend to know math and call it
science, based on sands that have pulled us closer
and this collision of horizon I childishly wish
would be you and I.


I promise to keep you together
much better than she ever did--

- To not be broken about it,
and to teach you that making someone
love you
isn't your "fault".
*

This is not my place,
however,
and I am just waiting for history to
reset.
Day Nov 2016
even though i don't understand,
i've watched him love you hard.

i've felt Olympus shake and i've
created supernovas on his behalf,
steadied my arrows and called out to my galaxies-
but, consistently, he quells me quiet and it's always then that i see it-
the warrior he is demands he doesn't give up on a battle
and Ares has been chasing Aphrodite too long to set a better example and i
hate to say it
but it's alarmingly beautiful.

father may have made a star,
but that lionheart made you a sun.


i have long preached that perfection takes time,
that my mother has a love so pure and perfect set aside for her,
but her heart caught on you.

war is love and love is war -
she has weathered battles in your name and each time i try to end the fight,
lay the final blow
she quiets my furies
with a hand on my chest and music in my ears.

Apollo has been chasing dawn too long to teach the lesson of patience,
but you were her dawn and mornings aren't the same, anymore.

she sings songs of you at daybreak
and i hum songs of war.
she pretends she isn't missing her star.
i try not to miss the sun.
---

Apollo told us from cribs that music heals over even the stormiest of skies,
Ares taught us as children to use our right hooks against any of the earth's discontent,
Aphrodite promised us as teens that one day we'll find her beauty and love triumphs all,

but, as adults, Erebus has blinded us and
Eros seems to have us ****** up.

---

Another collab with the extremely talented jayson m.
Check out his poetry, if you aren't already acquainted with him, because he's definitely my favorite poet.
Day Nov 2016
practice what you preach
be good.
stroke his back when he cries.
don't expect anything but make him your
sun-
and lose it all when the eclipse comes.
---

love is selfish anyways
how could he teach me that?
Day Sep 2016
you feel everything as deeply as you breathe,
but, honey-
---

To the breathless.
Day Jul 2014
Acoustic variables numb my skin as I
attempt to drown my thoughts of
guilt- from having to hurt you to
make me better.

I'm just trying to
get better.
Day Apr 2017
my body is a road map
littered with the fingerprints of men who
find somewhere/(one) else to make home
Day Oct 2014
Break your back over
my heart three times &
claim it's body poetry.

Knock on wood & pray
Zeus didn't hear you.

You say you know no better,
but I've seen the malice in your eyes the
moment before our lips touch & I am
afraid; I love it.

Trust you trust you trust you..
Why would you beg I trust you?

You knew from the second you
saw me that you would end up
covering me in kisses the way
lava covered Pompeii
& giddily watch as I suffer when
you leave me to dry.

You are so heartachingly beautiful,
&, as the daughter of Apollo, I am
obligated to let the son of Aphrodite know;
my father was the brightest star
until nineteen years ago.
*
Sorry, Daddy,
I know you told me never to love a man anything like you.
Day Aug 2022
was it like you expected?
Day Feb 2018
i think i'll be obsessed with it until it happens:
buried underneath this smile are all the reasons.
if i am not crazy, what am i?
surely you don't think it normal to for someone-
possible for someone-
to live like this.
regardless of how strong
you think me to be, i guarantee you that you aren't accounting for
all the times i've taken damage
with no healer on my team or potions up my sleeve.
condescending interests, those who love me don't love what i do.
i just want them to tell me "good job" and mean it,
i need to know how i'm doing
that i'm doing
that they see me
that i'm good.
i keep giving myself up for life-
not me anymore, doing what i do to keep living,
these methods aren't true to me.
i smile past my fractures and they still frown at me.
i laugh and am extra and they don't know how much i break
just to give to them just to take.
i'm sorry to ask you for so much.
i'm sorry to need you so much.
i'm sorry to be-

obsessed, until it happens.
disgusted with myself,
because last night i jealously wondered
if he was happy now.

if i can be happy, too.
---

i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i hate
i
h a t e
that i feel
t h i s
w a y.
Day Oct 2016
i teach them to love
for the women after me.
---

"... you're the kind of girl who teaches you how to love the first time around-"
"-but the one they never settle down with?"
"yeah."
"why?"
"because you give it to them. love, i mean. and you give it all. i've seen it. you're the girl their mom will ask about until they propose to whoever. you'll lay the blueprint for how they 'ought to be loved. maybe even the one who got away. you don't give up. but you're too safe. or too good."
"or not good enough."
"you're the kind of girl to fall for while you're young."
"what if i don't want to be anymore?"

---

"honest conversations" series
1/21
Day Apr 2021
leafing through my pages you found your favorite song
dipped between the lines time and time again ‘til it feels all too familiar
repetition ‘til there’s no more thrill.
placed high on the shelf you’ll remember me as you walk past
a single glance, a pause
a world’s explosion in memories
painted your favorite colors and teased by the sunlight from cracked blinds.
my ledger is torn on accident, tattered by wear
you’ll trace your fingers along my spine as if to get reacquainted
remember the ink you spilled on that one page
a quiver of excitement that i’ll be read anew again.
another stain.
completed history.
a promise not forgotten.
i’ll collect dust here in wait
becoming background in a pile, decorative
lessons and laughter and all the best bits of me quoted by you
like i haven’t already given you everything else.

— The End —