Elin Roberts Sep 26
I am a lighthouse standing strong
Against a stormy sea
Beat me down with the violent rain
But I'll never stop being me

A lonely sailor I may be
Stoic in silent solitude
Watching all that is to be, all that is to come
Freedom seems a fleeting scene and reality is seemingly numb

But yet I stay in this place
Resolute is a lonely silence
Watch the clouds, and read the sky
Feel the rain yet remain bone dry
Forever searching for a reason why

Why a lonely lighthouse such as me
Shines so bright when it wishes to be
So easily abled to turn off the light
And embrace the fade of a dark winters night
Elin Roberts Aug 3
forever feeling miserable
struggling to escape
the head space i'm in
yeah this is a funny way to start a poem
but what to do when i struggle to find a piece of paper for this pen

the pen of my mind
sounds silly but yeah
this pen's run out of ink in an aspect that i can't describe
don't understand the pain i feel when the worlds insecurities and judgments become real, when they break the ******* seal

dear ***.

why judge a person by the colour of their skin?
their religion?
their view?
the position they're in?
when white privilege becomes an overbearing shadow of a supposed 'gods' sin
when the upper and middle classes decide that they're in

the saddle of a higher horse
lacking the feeling of remorse
deciding the laws and punishments of an irrelevant choice
that has nothing to do with our selves
and everything to do with an intimidating insecurity.

it breaks my heart, and
i've no idea where to begin, where to start
i can't describe the pain i feel when i look into the eyes of one
who's been denied of their own identity, their own individuality
their claim and their right to decide where to start
on figuring out the person they want to be within their own heart

someone, please, set me free
from the limitations of my imagination
i need to escape the boundaries of this deluded reality that society
has carefully and tactfully created
to tame the thoughts of a mind such as mine
to stop me being free

free to believe that i am my own person
free to believe that i am an individual form of me
free to believe that my heart doesn't beat to the rhythm of a reality that's very purpose is to destroy the extraordinary

that IS human nature

to those reading my poem, i may not make sense
but then again, what does, guess i'm creating a certain suspense
in this day and age
filled with societies decay
societies need to destroy and conform those who live outside the standard that is expected
the standard that is reflected

in the eyes of those who feel the desire, to want so strongly to be connected
to a group of the earths people
who were born to create a deflected
sense of abnormality, because their lack of understanding
reflects their personalities
and bless them in the sense that they'll never understand
that people were born because
we were always meant to

band together

live together

die together

and that is our reality
first one i've written in a while
Elin Roberts Apr 13
i find these days
i'm burning out at both ends

a loneliness is melting my insides
memories pooling like wax at my wicker cased feet
i blow and gasp, desperately trying to save my liquid soul
from pouring through cracks that aren't shown to blind eyes

someone, please
quench this flame
pour water over the embers of my being and baptise me into a new light
in which i know an answer, not shown by pain

but shown by a sense of true serenity
i'm lost
Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.
Elin Roberts Mar 17
you don't seem to understand
the clarity of an unspoken word
a gentle touch of your hand provides
so many reassurances held in the eyes of one you love

i know i can trust you
even though i cannot trust myself
i am a black abyss
and you the shining sun

the reflection i see in the mirror
is a foreign body to me
i don't know these eyes
yet yours are so familiar

you see, i met you and
felt the presence of a home never known to me
clarity and reassurance among the creases of your sofa
worn by love and comfort

you don't understand
and i know you never will
but believe me when i say
i'll forever be grateful for the hidden house you so willingly, yet unknowingly showed

you're my family
you're my living breathing home
you're my walking blanket in which
i'll always find refuge

let me fold myself in and
hug the broken parts of you with my scattered soul
let me give you even a fraction of
what you've given me

if only you ever knew.
i love you
Elin Roberts Mar 11
in this reality

we created something out of nothing
nipped uncertainty in the bud
i buried it softly
among the weeds and the dirt

in this reality

i didn't rip out my roots from the ground below
i watered the seeds with kindness and love
threw insecurity to the wind
and let my heart show

but, my dear
this isn't my reality

i still claw at the dirt
with love bitten nails
digging for an answer in unfertilized soil
searching for a life that was never given
even the slightest chance to grow

no life will blossom here
the flowers will wilt and be rotten from the core
life cannot grow from a loveless garden
the petals will fall before they're formed
and thorns will sprout and puncture the delusion of something more

teasing this noose, that is wrapped around my heart

in this reality

the weeds will strangle the light from the sun
rip away the facade of a blooming aftermath
deprive my flowery veins of water, write me off as done
and kid me into an illusion that

the seeds will sprout into a thousand colors
not one of them real enough to describe
the color of my aura when i see your face
feel those hands on mine
your touch out of descriptions reach

cos in this reality

and every reality after

love will never be a word that can be defined
nor described, by any set opinion.

love is a vast and bottomless pit of beautiful and scary uncertainty
made from the memories it creates
built on the foundations on which we were born
and bred by the emotion we feel
rough draft but dunno how to finish it
  Mar 5 Elin Roberts
my heart nearly stopped every time i had to cross the street
so let’s thank the queen for writing it down
before she’s just another thing i have to step over
all the rest have tickled my feet so far
and everything under construction reminds me that these days
the only remedy seems to be better luck and more cloud cover

i’ve been racing to crash on the couch
just to wake up to see if i have time for it all
and i want the stereotype to be true so i have nothing to cry about  
with the way things are going
you’d tell me not to be so brutal to myself
but the thrill i used to know is now paying its dues to the concrete

i was almost convinced i wasn’t asleep
when she whispered paris
nothing, everything may have changed
so this is not like anything i’ve never meant:

my heart nearly stopped with the regret of not talking to you
it's hard killing birds when you don't have any stones and
besides this time i think i've really done it
two days and this is already my favorite story but
second chances don't have to be so mysterious
maybe i just wanted to see you smile again

i should have said it w/o one of and the s after the L
still choosing o over x
and your pull showed my hands a home in the back of your denim
two across the channel makes the significant not so, if you want it
i’ll keep looking for you so long as you
don’t stop drawing me maps

if i died in my indecision then
your mouth showed me heaven
you’re the closest thing to purpose
i’ve ever tasted

i wish you knew how much i mean that
[plant-based positivity] | [london, england]
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