she breaks like this,
you just don't know it.

she breaks at 9 am in the dairy lane
of the nearest grocery store with
a list of what to buy and of what
to regret.

she breaks when she laughs but
it just doesn't seem right even
when the joke is so bad it's good
or her.

she breaks as she makes a call
people probably don't expect
because it's just out of the blue
and isn't her at all.

she breaks when the sun has risen
and her skin glows golden and radiant
she'd fix herself breakfast and it's the only
thing she'll attempt to fix.

she breaks when you tell her you love her
and as you treat her with revelation
but the only thing she thinks about
is how her body betrayed her.

she breaks when they call her 'pretty'
and maybe she'll appear flustered
they don't know her mirrors back home
makes her heart recoil.

she breaks when you don't see it
because she doesn't want you to
at all.

she breaks and you won't have a clue
because she doesn't even know that
she is.

lately i've been writing a lot to cope with what i feel and what i observe from around me.

she breaks, but she's alive. for her that's more than enough.

if the ocean would carry me
it'll collapse under the weight of my bones
made with cement and steel
and the burden each brick owns

witness the waves howler and scream
just like the heart caged in my chest
blood bubbling around the muscle
surging with every beat and protest

the bottom of the sea may be quiet
like my tongue folded neatly in my mouth
though feral beasts deep within
choke with pressure more than i can count

the ocean and i are seperate
both flowers from different gardens
one ephemeral, one wilting before your eyes
but both's head tilting up to the heavens

sorrowful eyes, swirling, storm awakening
chaos mingling betwixt water and blood
ravid souls in dire need of feeding
cursed and blessed by god

i wonder if i could carry the ocean
within just the corners of my palm
i and the ocean - we are one
a catastrophe after the calm

i love the ocean. it makes you feel a lot of things.
Carm Cerdan Jun 16

i just can't believe how someone like you
could see beauty within someone like me
for i am ultimately certain ambrosial roses
don't dwell with common wildflowers.

because darling when you bloom
i wilt.

for so long i aimed to be different
to the point where i rejected water
only to allow them pool around me
along my fragile bones so much
that my roots were no longer intact.

so tell me would you?

tell me how is beauty
even capable and allowed
to dwell within ostracized places
where there is not enough
sunlight to see it anyway.

"you're a masochist for falling for me, wildflower."
Carm Cerdan Jun 2

i wanted to write a poem,
but didn't know where to start.
with a
striking sentence maybe or
a word from the heart.

because sometimes, writing could be difficult
when your head is nothing
but an echo of a myriad mess,
like untangling strings of blurred words
just so you would d r o w n less.

and i wish to ask those poets
who could write so hauntingly.
crimson hearts tattooed on paper
souls for the world to see.

but then, poetry would never judge,
it'll just call, saying:
' darling, your emotions crave me
grab a piece of paper
to set yourself free. '




'i want to write a poem
pencil on hand, an old paper from my bed stand
sits empty
for wherever should i begin?'


i still don't know.

I wrote this when I was around 14 (needs tweaking, i know), right when poetry began to mean more than just a hobby to me. It became my outlet, my safe haven, my refuge. And now as a young poet I will continue to hold it dear in my heart and continue my passion.
Carm Cerdan May 31

there will be times i'll
be writing to find myself

and

there will be times i'll
be writing to lose myself

you'll never know which.

Carm Cerdan May 18

my heart is not made for sunrises
for every uncertain step,
every unwritten day,
is
is
is
is
scary.

my heart performs haphazard thuds
the world spins if by chance, i count
my pale limbs are jerking with fear
i'm nothing but an epitome of doubt

sleep beckons me closer yet it teases
eyes round, yet misty and cautious
saccharine voices in my head drip venom
this war won't end with simply just a truce

for it craves voracious amounts of blood
like honey so sweet, a taste of defeat
but i've been a prisoner longer than fear
inhaling anxiety is now how i breathe.

i'm stuck in a difficult position in my life as of right now. i wrote this as means of trying to cope. i hope the universe will send me comfort, assurance and strength.
Carm Cerdan May 14

mother,
tell me about compassion
and how you can impress
flowers bloom and blossom
out of kindness and love.
mother,
tell me about that hope
coursing wildly in your veins,
declaring you as the epitome
of each incandescent promise
and ethereal splendor.
mother,
tell me about bravery
and all the onerous battles
you've withstood,
hands held with that
of another mother -

generation after generation,
history after history.

mother,
tell me about acceptance,
tell me about love,
tell me about misery,
tell me about sacrifice,
tell me about sunsets,
tell me about tomorrows,

and in return i will tell you
about your radiant eyes
and how i've come to fall
in love with every wild flower.
i will tell you
about your smiles
and your heart
and how i've come
to learn about never giving up
despite all odds.
i will tell you
about the strength
i forever owe to you
and how i've come
to treasure what courage is worth.
i will tell you
how phenomenal you are,
how empowering,
how magnificent,
and how this world
is lucky to have you.

#poem #poetry #poet #mother #mothers #mom #mothersday #love
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