Daisy: Favorites

May 2014 Daisy

Legion

When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                                                          And ask each drop
                                                                                               why it'd leave
                                                                                          such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                                      So you can see her every morning
                                                                                   and wish for her
                                                                                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                                                        has only made her
                                                                                   that much more unique;
                                                                                       that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                                                 one day after you're gone
                                                                                  she can find the strength
                                                                                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                                               who thinks herself damaged
                                                                                  when in truth she's just
                                                                                a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                                                    That deserves to be loved.

#love #broken #girl #tears #stars #scars #special

May 2014 Daisy

Wednesday

May 2014 Daisy

Megan Grace

Wednesday

i
a  m
positive
that   you
are  made  of
s  t a  r d  u  s  t
and  water  balloons,
oil  pastels  and  the
collection          of
settled     sugar
at             the
b o t  t o m
of      my
c u p s
o     f
t e a

May 2014 Daisy

So kid, you think you can write love poems?

May 2014 Daisy

Nat Lipstadt

So kid, you think you can write love poems?

this kids,
is how you do it

in the mid of the dark hours,
when two am is your new oldest friend
when sleep, your oldest old one,
left town on the midnight train,
taking your peace of mind

though she is far away
lost in dream-thoughts caught,
but only twelve inches close,
granting you an unasked permission,
you ok to stroke her hair,
undisturbing her, yet comforting yourself,
every voice in your temple'd altar praying,
one glorious chorus godly chant:

Oh Lord, what would I do without her?

and you stroke her hair and are saved.

2:51am

May 2014

May 2014 Daisy

3:00 am

May 2014 Daisy

Earthchild

3:00 am

I wrote sorry 225 times

I began to think I was spelling it wrong.

May 2014 Daisy

opp

May 2014 Daisy

Carly Bunch

opp

once your heart tells you to do one thing and your mind tells you another, you go with what they say.
when your fingers interlock with someone else's that aren't who they're supposed to be you cringe at the thought of your feet touching at night.
once you start to believe what other people say is true, you start to disbelieve in what your teachers tell you.
contradictions make the curiosity even more unbearable, yet we still wonder around like its our job to get lost in the dark, never ending abyss of our mind and we wonder how it was even possible that we sunk so low in our self esteem where we cant get back up
and the lines that make up the picture of your sadness are carved into your skin, differing you from one another to the next and so on,
until you cant find yourself in you anymore and you go to someone else hoping to see some of yourself in their broken eyes
but you cant.
yet you still search on and on until you find one thread of yourself somewhere else and you keep pulling that until it runs out and you run out, but then what?
do you keep running or do you keep your mind set to never getting that feeling back in your gut like you got when you held that right persons hand, and when your feet touched at night.

#love #depression #anxiety #happy #saddness

May 2014 Daisy

"whats your type"

May 2014 Daisy

Mostly numb

"whats your type"

Types of girls : *poetry-inked skin, hollow and fragile,dark circles, lack of eye contact, smeared mascara, not enough and too much

i seem to find something painfully lovely in girls like this

May 2014 Daisy

Sweet Nothings

May 2014 Daisy

Sean Critchfield

Sweet Nothings

It seems
that the moon is
blushing.

Mars must have
whispered something
sweet.

May 2014 Daisy

Mosaic

May 2014 Daisy

Sean Critchfield

Mosaic

Give them to me.
All the pieces of your broken heart.
Give them to me.

I'll take them.

All the rough-hewn misshapen bits of your shattered dreams.

Give them to me.
I will take them.

Give them to me.

They are wanted here.

All the parts of your misspent childhood. All the regrets of ticking seconds behind you.

Give them to me.

And we will build a cathedral. A stained glass window of who we are as tall and as beautiful as it should be.

Let me have them.

And we will make a mosaic that stretches as wide as the sky. Showing every color your heart gained from the bits and pieces left on the ground.

I will take them.

And forge a sculpture of how beautiful the ideas are that we cast out in our failings and we will cast it in our failings.

Let me have them.

And we will ***** a monument of all the small things in the shape that you remember them.
Towering. Looming. Striking. Beautiful.

Let me have them so we might bind the words said and regretted, (or worse) left unsaid in leather and call it scripture.

Our Psalms. Our Proverbs:

“The tip of my finger dangles like my tongue. Wanting to touch something beautiful.”

“If it were not for him, it would have been us.”

“You were all my brightest colors.”

“I wish I were more like you.”

“I wish I were less like me.”

“I am sped.”

And we will read them at dawn like litany.

Stretching our voices to the corners of the universe. Asking for the wishes you make when you are scared. Or alone. Or both.

That we may take them.

And make a blanket.

A blanket to cover our childhood and let it rest at last.

I will take them.

All the parts you no longer want.

Give them to me.

Because they are what make us beautiful.

Give them to me.

That I may forge them into pitch and feathers and craft mighty wings.

That I may take flight from your worry. And soar on the updraft of your misconception.

Give them to me.
I will take them.

Because I would rather burn like Icarus than to have never dared to fly.

This was a birthday gift to myself. I am giving it to you.