Lani Foronda

Lani Foronda Jun 2015

(one day i'll stop writing about you because)

I'm starting to
find that there
is bittersweet
relief in letting
go of the things
that i had so
desperately clung
to because maybe-
just maybe- I never
really needed them
in the first place.
I'm beginning to
understand that there
was and always
has been something
between us. And I
suppose we didn't
want to admit that
what we had was
the one thing
we both knew we
never would need.

September 19, 2014

#love #feelings #sad #boyfriend #hurt #relationship #writing #breakup #girlfriend #inlove

Lani Foronda Jun 2015

quest

you said you’re on a quest
to find the blessed rest
which can make a person feel whole—
and thus ease your burdened soul.
so with a wooden ship but neither compass nor crew,
you set sail across the seven seas in search of what man knew.
you argued with the fates
and begged the gods to open the gates.
you refused to entertain the silence of your mind,
and scorned the stars of the sky for not being aligned.

so with questions unanswered and feet more calloused than before,
you altered your course to a more distant shore.
to a land a man once spoke of where the sun did not exist
and where life flourished when midnight was kissed.
a place where the only music heard was the laughter of souls
and the only thing which existed was man’s fleeting controls.

and though the months have turned into years
and nothing has changed—especially not your fears,
i hope a morning will come when our feet touch the same ground
and the great unknown is at last safe and sound;
i hope a day will come when the only thing forsaken is your desire to roam
and you—you, my dear friend, can finally come home.

june 24, 2015
I am still praying for you.

#hell #life #god #death #faith #relationship #heaven #believe #choice #satan

Lani Foronda Jun 2015

june 11, 2015 // 1:05 am

you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook.
last autumn i dog-eared the top corners so i would find my way back.
your veins dance with the curves and loops of my
frail
frail
words.
the contours of your dreams lay in the indents of my ballpoint pens.
your fears bleed black and blue.
your voice--the raspy scratching of graphite before bed.
my sentences often sit incomplete because that's how you left--
in the middle
without warning
because you lacked a single transition.
your breath echos at the turn of every page
inhale--look back
exhale--look forward
(i can almost feel your lungs working alongside my own).
your blood runs red as i scribble across the pages--
at times i am in a frenzy, lacking control as my hands skirt along the paper.
other days, i am silent, waiting for my hand to pick up the pen
and bring you to life.

i keep telling myself that
you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook
but
every time i close its covers shut,
i can't seem to find you.

june 11, 2015
1:05 am

#love #feelings #words #sad #relationship #writing #breakup #memory #college

Apr 2015

anonymous999

a four line story

i've found it much easier to have nothing than to have half of something
even smooth rocks become sharp when you break them in half
that's why i felt so much better when you left
i would rather feel nothing than lay in a bed of broken glass

i wish someone would have told me to let go of the pieces that were cutting my hands

#love #heartbreak #short #truth #story #half #four #fourline

Apr 2015

Megan Grace

point c

(I) seaweed skin
today there is a
crevice where my
lungs used to be

(II) brass arteries
i took the long
way to work this
morning trying
to sidetrack my
mind with new
roads but there
are some bits of
you creeping up
my spine and
burrowing into
my hair and
nuzzling my ear
i had thought that
by now i would be
able to take breaths
without chunks of
sentences meant for
you breaking off
from my bronchial
tubes but they are
somehow still lodged
in there like they
have been called home

(III) umbrella heart
i used to wish no one
would ever touch me
ever touch me ever
touch me because their
fingerprints would last
too long and i can't scrub
them off like i want to
please let this be different
please let this be the end
of you aching at the base
of my skull and robbing
me of my purple dreams
and green hopes i want
to feel myself in my arms
instead of you

Apr 2015

anonymous999

aggression

i am aggressive.
aggressively happy, aggressively sad.

i will be the sun that crashes through
your window and warms your living room with my laughter, i will melt your candles and burn your eyes with my smile. i will furnish your home with my voice and hang memories of us on the walls of your heart. i will scorch you by surprise like a seat belt in july, i will scald your cupid's bow with my cherry lips and you will never get my taste out of your mouth. i will set your house on fire.

but on the hard days, i will not.

i will drain the color from your life. my tears will wash the pigment from the walls and pull the curtains shut. you won't remember what sunshine feels like. my shivering shoulders will **** the warmth out of our shared home, establishing a winter not with crystalline ice but with a bone-chilling cold whose frost bites at anything exposed - your heart, your fingers, your nose - don't let me get too close.

i will be your sunshine, and then i will leave you out in the rain.
i wish i could be a calm, pleasant day, but i can only be fire, i can only be ice.
i'm sorry, but i've never known gray - i've never done anything halfway.

#love #depression #fire #happiness #ice #aggression #contrast

Lani Foronda Apr 2015

the self-portrait he made one day

will you tell me of the hues that drip and bleed onto your canvas—
the streaks
the smudges
the smears.
are they the ones flowing through your veins
twisting—turning
to reach that place I long to call home?
or maybe the ones residing in your eyes
flickering—hiding
behind the mask you too willingly wear?
will you
show me the color of dawn
when darkness sheds its skin and kisses goodbye.
the amethyst seas
where sirens beckon from the deep.
the color of blood
when it meets oxygen’s lips.
the strokes of rain against the window pane
where you spent your autumn afternoons.
the cups of undrunk tea
that your mother left sitting on the kitchen table.
will you
show me the hues of your paint-stained hands
that I have yet to hold
so maybe—just maybe—
I too can see the colors you see.

February 27/April 22, 2015
9:09 pm

#love #feelings #metaphor #relationship #imagery #colors #painting #artist #painter #hues