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Sep 2019 · 253
Disappearing Act
Lyra Sep 2019
This carnival had rides, games and a magician
Who promised the crowd a disappearing act,
His voice yelled, “In four hundred seconds…”
As we made our way to the back

Of the field where the carousel stood
And you climbed on a horse as fast as you could.

Spinning, spinning, the merry-go-round,
Looking from the outside in,
I could see the horses, the carriages, the dancers
Growing dizzy, disappearing.

Waltz of the Flowers started slow – melody tinkling like a music box,
I blinked with the lights, faster and faster and counting to when
They would stop.

One second, two seconds, three seconds, four,
One hundred and twenty before feet touched the floor.
Five seconds, six seconds, seven seconds, eight,
Two hundred seconds when you open the gate.

Two hundred and fifty when you find my face,
Three hundred when you realize I’m gone,
Three hundred and sixty when the waltz starts again,
Four hundred
.
May 2019 · 551
French Downpour
Lyra May 2019
I remember our date, that one perfect day.
You loved me and for a day, I loved you too.
Then when night came, that feeling faded into something else while yours remained the same.

I'm sorry I took you for granted.

We still loved each other, just in different ways.
And we had a song, that song that sounds like a music box in its first few seconds before its soft, electro notes faded in.
Whenever that song comes on, I think about you, the way that I sometimes do.
Like running your fingernails over an old scar, thinking about the
What If's.

But then you were robbed from me. I met someone new
and he loved that song too.
He would play it in his car and he would sing along and every time,  I wanted to yell stop, turn the volume down, delete that song from his library because that song belonged to us.

But I love him and after a while, I started to sing along with him.

I'm sorry, it feels like I betrayed our memory. Because now when I hear this song, I think of his off-key singing before I think of how it felt sitting in your car on the day we loved each other that same way.

I should have protected us. I owed you that much. That song was the least I could do.
For ***
May 2019 · 224
Sleep
Lyra May 2019
I am holding on but I don’t know for how long more. I am tired, I am scared, I am sad.

I am so, so tired.

You were sleeping in my bed/ I was on my couch (in the other room), curled up in a blanket, refusing to hold you for warmth.

It was May, Spring. It was supposed to get warmer here in this rose town, May being more summer than spring, more spring than winter. Alas, it was still so cold. And I cried. And you were still fast asleep.

The sobs came in waves. Each stronger than the last.

The sobs crept up like shadows, like the gradual turning of heads in a crowded room towards a spotlight. It was a strange feeling, because my body seemed to realise I was going to cry before my brain would. I’d catch my breath and my face would suddenly distort itself. My eyes would pull back and my mouth would overturn. Then the wave would hit and then the tears would start.

I remember being curled up and torn - did I want you to find me like this or not?

I guess I didn’t have to decide because you were still fast asleep by the time I stopped shivering.

I crawled back into bed and there you were. You blinked your sleepy eyes awake and pulled me close, reaching out, eyelids dropping again but hand on my arm, on my thigh, on my stomach, holding me in your unconscious.

Then the feeling unfurled in me - the feeling of intrusion and trespassery. Your hands touched her body the same way, pulled her in the same way. The places in which your hands rested burned with shame and strangeness. You were hers first. You are hers. It felt so wrong. It feels so wrong.

I grabbed my water bottle and jumped out of my bed and you asked sleepily, “Where are you going?”

I said, “Getting water.” I rushed out the door, shutting it. I went to my kitchen and spent a few seconds staring at the wall.

When will the sobs come?

I waited.

They came.

Again, each wave stronger than before - so disgustingly desperate. I struggled to stay silent, I clamped my mouth shut and heaved.

You know that feeling when you’re crying and your body can’t help but wrack itself so violently and so uglily you can’t help but cry out like a wounded animal?

I muzzled myself; I clamped my mouth shut.

I gave myself ten minutes, then fifteen. Running the tap. Hoping my body would stop shaking. Asking myself to be quiet, quiet.

Then I walked to the bathroom, switched the light on. Looked at myself.

Then I got back into bed. And you were still fast asleep.
May15
May 2019 · 117
Psychosis
Lyra May 2019
Now I’m here with only four months under my belt while she had four years.

Four lifetimes.

For you.
Apr 2019 · 196
Second Best
Lyra Apr 2019
When my eyes find you in a crowd,
my heart can't help but stop,
Then I see her not far behind,
my heart, it plummets, it drops.

You tell me you are better as friends,
yet her iciness says you're not,
four years you loved her, now no more
but it seems she hasn't stopped.

I am your sun, you say to me,
but it seems she is your night,
you are the middle, I am the left
and she's always the right.

I see her in all we do,
she trails us like a silhouette,
your bed, your room, your passenger seat,
is there anywhere she hasn't been yet?

I laugh with you in your tiny kitchen,
and out your window I look,
just two nights ago she was where I am,
thinking of what to cook.

I am in your bed and in your arms
yet somehow it feels so wrong,
like I am the intruder in her space,
it feels like I don't belong.

You love me, and I believe you,
but I believe my fears even more,
love never ceases, never leaves,
so how could it stop at four?

You say you're okay, the break up was fine,
there is no need to fret,
of course you're okay, you never had to grieve
because she never left.

She knows you inside-out, I understand
both of you grew up together,
I just think, since she's your past,
she must also be your future.

I'm so afraid I'm temporary,
like in those movies and songs,
about how best friends fall in love
and everyone else is wrong.

I'm so afraid I'm a mere pit stop,
a temporary lapse in judgement,
the final interruption, the last mistake
before you return to her temptation.

I know I said I'd never make you choose,
how could you lose a friend?
But as time goes on, I grow wearier,
and things get harder to mend.

She'll be here for every birthday,
for every big event,
it's hard to wrap my head around
how I'm not your biggest fan.

Circumstances decided they didn't like us,
but we made it this far anyway,
like the pieces of home I found in you,
I hope you decide to stay.

Four years, I remind you, til she chose to leave,
while you stayed in your room and cried,
four years is what I have to live up to,
I try, I'm trying, I tried.
c/l
Apr 2019 · 631
Home Away From Home
Lyra Apr 2019
Here I am, halfway across the globe,
Seven continents away from home,
Isolated by barriers of roaring seas,
With no one but myself for familiar company.

Weeks and weeks of new faces in classes,
Campus teeming with foreign masses,
Culture shock is an understatement,
everything that I see suffers my judgement.

Chinese Malaysian - my identity,
becomes dissected and questioned by all I meet.
Tired of having to explain my heritage,
Tired of feeling like I need to change.

White and yellow - a clash so supreme.
"Shoes off by the front door, if you please,"
this request met with countless clueless faces,
then I remember: different customs, different places.

I made friends, I wasn't alone,
but they're different from friends from home.
It was nice on the surface but I wanted connection,
understanding of my culture and recollection.

Then I met you that fall Halloween night,
though fireworks were scarce, things were alright,
I left the party with no expectations,
us being Asians didn't mean a connection.

Then we saw each other every Monday,
your friends became my friends, here to stay.
Then that winter night clicked us into place,
there was no escape from threads of fate.

You were born here and  this land is your home,
but when I see you, I feel it all in my bones.
Connection is true, my heart feels at ease,
when I'm with you, there is nothing but peace.

I find home in you when I need it most,
when I feel alone, like my past are my ghosts.
You tell me we ate the same snacks in our childhoods,
celebrated the same festivals, loved the same foods.

Your grandma speaks the language of my mother,
joss sticks at the altar to venerate your grandfather,
the more I love you, the more I realize,
we were continents apart but lived the same lives.

"I found my home in you" sounds so cliche,
but it's so much more than just something to say.
It's the truth and it means the world to me
that we can connect both of our histories.

Destiny, fate, sweet serendipity,
It's wonder you wound up here with me,
It only took me eight thousand miles
to find you, i hope this lasts a while.

Here I am, halfway across the globe,
it turns out, not so far from home,
Now homesick takes on more than one meaning,
how lucky am I for this very feeling.
kuala lumpur ----> california
Apr 2019 · 306
Second Best (full)
Lyra Apr 2019
When my eyes find you in a crowd,
my heart can't help but stop,
Then I see her not far behind,
my heart, it plummets, it drops.

You tell me you are better as friends,
yet her iciness says you're not,
four years you loved her, now no more
but it seems she hasn't stopped.

I am your sun, you say to me,
but it seems she is your night,
you are the middle, I am the left
and she's always the right.

You love me, and I believe you,
but I believe my fears even more,
love never ceases, never leaves,
so how could it stop at four?

I see her in all we do,
she trails us like a silhouette,
your bed, your room, your passenger seat,
is there anywhere she hasn't been yet?

You're behind the wheel, hand on my knee,
but when you two meet,
you both get lost in reminiscing your past,
and it feels like I'm in the backseat.

I laugh with you in your tiny kitchen,
and out your window I look,
just two nights ago she was where I am,
thinking of what to cook.

I am in your bed and in your arms
yet somehow it feels so wrong,
like I am the intruder in her space,
it feels like I don't belong.

---Overwhelmed by your love,
by your kindness, by your heart,
overwhelmed by her familiarity,
by her tendency to start

talking about how you always nap,
about how you're like your brother,
about how your mom always complains,
when I, on the other hand, have never met her.

Inadequacy, jealousy, insecurity,
the usual - the full package.
You were and still are best friends with your ex,
and i incur the damage.

You say you're okay, the break up was fine,
there is no need to fret,
of course you're okay, you never had to grieve
because she never left.

It's a catch twenty-two, a lose-lose situation,
if only she wasn't your ex
if only she was just your best of friends,
then this wouldn't be such a mess.

It's a catch twenty-two, a lose-lose situation,
if she wasn't your best friend,
if only she was just another ex
if only I didn't have to contend.

She knows you inside-out, I understand,
both of you grew up together,
I just think, since she's your past,
she must also be your future.

I'm so afraid I'm temporary,
like in those movies and songs,
about how best friends fall in love
and everyone else is wrong.

I'm so afraid I'm a mere pit stop,
a temporary lapse in judgement,
the final interruption, the last mistake
before you return to her temptation.

I know I said I'd never make you choose,
how could you lose a friend?
But as time goes on, I grow wearier,
and things get harder to mend.

She'll be here for every birthday,
for every big event,
it's hard to wrap my head around
how I'm not your biggest fan.


Every time i think I'm in the clear,
and her presence slips far from my mind,
i see her name flash on your phone,
her texts you have yet to decline.

my heart becomes anxiety ridden,
my body numbs inside-out,
i swear it's not petty jealousy,
its waves of uncontrollable self-doubt.

when our friends go out and she joins too,
you hold me close to reassure me,
you mean well but all i can picture
is the same way you held her body.

I hear her laugh and i hate it so much,
i hate that she sounds so happy,
I hate that i think of how you used to love
the voice that sends my ears ringing.

i hate that our friends liked her so much
they kept her around after the split,
she's everyone's friend, everyone but me,
a fact she'd rather not admit.

you told me to always go to you
whenever she'd show me hostility,
but you never fail to defend her actions,
leaving the peace offering always to me.

She wants to be your friend, you say,
your obliviousness catches me off guard,
you're always reluctant to make her the bad guy,
so sometimes i don't even start.

Like a ticking time-bomb, I told a friend,
when I hadn't much faith in us,
but now I hope we never implode
no heartbreaks, no more fuss.

Circumstances decided they didn't like us,
but we made it this far anyway,
like the home I found in you,
I hope you decide to stay.

Four years, I remind you, she has under her belt,
while mine barely holds four months,
Her connection to you runs as deep as it goes,
while I've only cried in front of you once.

Four years, I remind you, til she chose to leave,
while you stayed in your room and cried,
four years is what I have to live up to,
I try, I'm trying, I tried.
messy rhythm but hey, messy thoughts.
Apr 2019 · 795
old friends
Lyra Apr 2019
it's been a while,
stringing words to unravel the mind.

picking up the pen again,
the familiar feeling of secrets shared,

like exhaling after holding your breath
for a couple seconds too long,

i missed you, old friend.
Apr 2019 · 246
late afternoons
Lyra Apr 2019
like a rocking chair,
a steady, smooth rhythm.

like a drizzle on gravel,
our skin grew damp.

like vines on a fence,
our bodies entangled,
arms intertwined,

joined at the hip.

like a rocking chair,
a steady, smooth motion,

soft whispers and pants,

my mouth to your ear,

"i love you".
*******
Jul 2017 · 232
10:02 p.m.
Lyra Jul 2017
My dear,
You will never know the sheer magnitude of what I feel for you -
my human body is limited to only expressing a fraction of it.

We exist in a time between past and present, between present and future.
In a place in between galaxies and celestial planets.
This is the only explanation to our cosmic, eternal, titanic love;
we exist in between sleep and dreams.

Our souls are intertwined, my heart recognizes you.
How is that so?
You have held my heart since the beginning of time - perhaps you were part of it.

I have a theory: our souls scorched each other and left imprints when the stars collided. I have burned myself into you and you have done the same. This was a time before time, a life before life.

We are beings bigger than human life, what I feel for you proves this to be true.
And we will continue to exist long after our bodies have decayed into the ground, long after our names have been spoken on our friends' lips for the last time.

Our love will remain long after the Sun finally dims.

It is the quickened heartbeats of lovers;
A flashback of my hand brushing your cheek;
A piano chord of our song;
A fragment of the setting evening sun landing on your bed, shining through your curtains;
Somebody's faint laughter you hear while crossing the street;
The scent of roses;

That is where you will find me.
That is where I will find you.


--------------------------------------------------------------­----

"Excuse me, I think I've seen you before. Have we met?"
Oh yes - a lifetime ago. Welcome home, I've missed you so.
Jul 2017 · 174
9:37 p.m.
Lyra Jul 2017
My dear,
You will never know the sheer magnitude of what I feel for you -
My human body is limited to expressing only a mere fraction of it.

My dear,
You say you know but you are foolish -
for I am unsure myself.

My dear,
All I know is this: what I feel for you is beyond reason -
it is beyond love.

My dear,*
I would give you the world -
but *alas
.
Apr 2017 · 304
He Wasn't Very Pretty
Lyra Apr 2017
A list of things that made him unpretty:

He had crooked teeth,
Slightly-too-full lips,
chapped with a small freckle right underneath.

He had narrow eyes,
a wide set nose,
angry eyebrows,
and awkward clothes.

He had a strange laugh,
a quiet demeanor,
cracked fingertips,
and was a terrible listener.

A list of things that made him spectacular :

He had crooked teeth,
Slightly-too-full lips,
chapped with a small freckle right underneath.

He had narrow eyes,
a wide set nose,
angry eyebrows,
and awkward clothes.

He had a strange laugh,
a quiet demeanor,
cracked fingertips,
and was a terrible listener.

Oh, how I loved him so.
Apr 2017 · 201
Still
Lyra Apr 2017
You made me feel some kind of way.



Wait, I'm sorry, that was a lie;

you still make me feel some kind of way.
Dec 2016 · 641
Three Truths
Lyra Dec 2016
I could feel your absence as much as your presence.
2. You were the sun and now you are gone.
3. All is without life.
Nov 2016 · 635
11:05p.m
Lyra Nov 2016
So many have loved me,
yet so many have stopped -

I was their dream,
until I was not.
for r/b/s/j/m/d/n/g/w/c. love lost is love found.
Oct 2016 · 277
11:30p.m
Lyra Oct 2016
I could see the world unraveling at
supersonic speed, spinning like a whirlpool
when he shut his eyes.

The ringing in my ears seemed to quieten
as he opened them.

There was a loud thumping. Steady, quick. So loud. What was that sound? Was it my heart?

The dust particles around us then came into focus, swaying their graceful dance, performing pirouettes in the air.

He blinked once, twice.

His mouth started to open, then it shut again.
He didn't say a word.

But he let my hands go.

---------------------------------

*It was my heart, you know. The thumping.

Of course it was. Do you think it could've been his too?
Oct 2016 · 497
My Favorite Things
Lyra Oct 2016
1) Sun rays that send streaks of light across the landscape, cutting through the layers and layers of clouds.
2) The shivering reflections of a glass filled half-way with water.
3) Butterscotch candy
4) Heavy paper
5) Quiet mornings
Oct 2016 · 466
Crossroads (Reimagined)
Lyra Oct 2016
We met as travelers
at the crossroads

but you had a plane to catch
and I was already home.
my little spin on  the last lines of Lang Leav's "Crossroads" x
Oct 2016 · 277
Cracked Candy Canes
Lyra Oct 2016
I was the strawberry ice cream
you took out of the freezer-
you walked away for a little breather
and left me here to melt.

you shook me out, crystal by crystal,
while you ****** on my lollipop tongue,
you molded my eyes into a cotton candy cloud,
which dissolved and I could not run.

Then I realised this power I held
was like hot, sweet, scalding syrup,
you thought I fell but you were wrong,
I made your downfall your luck.

Now my fingers are sticky with blame,
while your teeth chatter with cold,
my heart has turned into a crystal rock,
just watch what you've done unfold.
Lyra Sep 2016
I'm still thinking bout
you at 2 am but you
fell asleep at 10.
haiku
Aug 2016 · 277
9:03p.m.
Lyra Aug 2016
And you thought loving meant leaving.
Aug 2016 · 256
10:57 p.m.
Lyra Aug 2016
I talk about you like you put
stars in the sky and salt in the sea.
I don't own this!
Aug 2016 · 603
Four Five Six
Lyra Aug 2016
I can't remember much. Just odd distortions of static vertigo and flashes of lighting that won't quite fit into my sky of memories.*
Bright sparks that disappear as fast as they came, forever out of reach no matter how far I stretch my fingers. Even when the pictures appear on the back of my eyelids like a slideshow of movies I think I have seen before, and my brain whispers that those, those are memories - I cannot tell what was real and what was not. The first reason is because, well, you know. The second is because memories dull, as memories do, when time goes on. I used to hate it, because of the way I could not remember. There would be long blanks where I cannot tell what happened, where everything was a sharp white. Time is a reminder that anything, everything could have happened when I was gone, and there would be no way to tell if it was real.

I can't remember much. Just odd distortions of static vertigo and flashes of lighting that won't quite fit into my sky of memories. But I remember he had rough fingertips. His favorite color was red. I remember that his teeth would have been straight if it were not for the tooth on the right, which curved inwards, ruining what would have been perfect symmetry. He had hair that would turn curly if it grew out too much. He always had some observation, some revelation that lit his face up like a spotlight when he turned around to explain it to me. *He was a brilliant shooting star that vanished before I could lift my head.


I cannot remember his birthday or when we first kissed.
I don't know if all the time we spent was real.

I cannot separate the truths from the untruths, but I know that he - he was not a work of my muddled consciousness, not a work of fiction.

*I know he was real, as real as the Sun himself.
Aug 2016 · 612
One Two Three
Lyra Aug 2016
I can't remember much. Just stray threads and patches of mismatched fabric that will never find its place within my cluster of thoughts.*
Now all that remains are echoes of ancient conversations and whispers of drowsy lullabies. Because memories dull, as memories do, when time goes on. I had once hated it, the way it continued on, as if she was still here and everything was still okay. As if nothing interesting enough or important enough happened for it to falter. She was the epitome of interesting, the definition of important. But now I am humbled and appreciative of its regularity, its security - time will go on no matter what happens. I suppose you can say I found equal parts torture and salvation in time itself.

I can't remember much. Just stray threads and patches of mismatched fabric that will never find its place within my cluster of thoughts.
But I remember she had flowers on her boots and lashes that curled upwards. Her eyes were dark brown, so dark that they looked almost black. She was afraid of thunder and isolation. Her hair smelled of peppermint and she always had some poem, some song lyric dancing on her lips, waiting for the right time to emerge, bursting with personal emotions and relief. Her sky-scraping beauty was the least of her. *She was the moon who loved the Sun instead of the night sky.


I cannot remember how we met or when we first held hands.
I cannot fathom the names of her parents or her best friend's hair color.

But I remember that she - she was the meaning of Love.

*I do not love her, for she was Love herself.
Part two of this poem, Four Five Six, is posted as well!
Jul 2016 · 298
Ramblings 2
Lyra Jul 2016
He was never one to speak his feelings,
always a stony façade,
Never frequent "I miss you's",
but rather, "Please don't be late."

But once in a while, there are cracks in his armor,
an off-guard laugh or a secret smile,
his eyes would shine as he thinned his lips,
I'm always hoping he'd laugh for a while.

He has funny ways of showing me he cares,
like always making sure I'm never cold,
I quite like his shy, boarded up exterior,
you take what you get in this world.

"Darling," I'd whisper, as he held onto my hand,
and his consciousness drifted into night,
"It's okay that your 'Text me when you get home's"
look like 'I love you's" when I hold it to the light.
ahhh this is not very good I'm losing my touch ahhh
Jul 2016 · 302
Rambles
Lyra Jul 2016
I've never been one to stay still,
there was always one hang nail to pick on,
one loose thread to tug.

I like laughing,
I love the way it bubbles up from my stomach to my throat.
Especially when it's caused by you.

I was never good with words under pressure.
I never knew how to phrase myself, so that you knew what I was trying to say.
I'd always trip over my tongue; always too many syllables, always too little breath.

You always knew, though.
What I was trying to say.

You'd hold my hands when I'm picking at my nail beds;
You'd clasp them and I'd be still.
Resting on your shoulder, breathing in the rhythm of your heart beats.

You'd smile your silly smile when I laughed.
You'd say, "your laughter tastes like butterscotch!"
I'd say, "but you don't like butterscotch."
"I like butterscotch now."

You never had to decipher my staccato mumblings to understand me.
You knew that my "I like holding your hands," looked a lot like "I love you" when held under the light.
Jun 2016 · 435
Where Is Your Passion?
Lyra Jun 2016
he said he'd always fight for me

I never realised he was fighting himself
Jun 2016 · 223
my heart is
Lyra Jun 2016
a messy bedroom i never got around to cleaning up
Jun 2016 · 1.6k
10:35p.m.
Lyra Jun 2016
love made me feel like i knew the answer but when
i raised my hand, i was the only one in the room
by sabrina benaim
Jun 2016 · 232
Flip Side
Lyra Jun 2016
If tears were sand,
you've sent me beaches;
If pain were words,
you've sent me speeches.
If misery were a color,
you've given me blue;
And if heartache was a person,
you've given me you.
Inspired
May 2016 · 241
Disproportionate
Lyra May 2016
heart too big for his body
May 2016 · 265
I Am a Girl In Love
Lyra May 2016
I am a girl in love,
and that means countless hours spent on daydreaming.

I am a girl in love,
and that means a constant craving for his presence, and a constant skip in the heart.

I am a girl in love,
and that means having something to dream about, and having something to wake up to.

I am a girl in love,
and that means over-expecting and over-giving, over-doubting and over-speaking.

I am a girl in love,
and that means a non-stop commentary of how he makes me feel to my friends.

I am a girl in love,
and that means jealousy, forgiveness, giddiness, and sadness.

I am a girl in love,
and that means over-reading every signal, every hint, every gesture.

I am a girl in love,
and that means overthinking and overthinking,
clawing onto every bit of affection.

I am a girl in love,
and that means breaking my own heart over and over again.

I am a girl in love,
and that makes me a poet.

I am a girl in love,

and is there anything worse than that?
May 2016 · 191
10:04 p.m.
Lyra May 2016
I am a girl in love

and is there anything worse than that?
a preview of my next poem x
May 2016 · 243
9:54 p.m.
Lyra May 2016
the spectrum of the
skies lay within your hands
as a network of dusks and dawns.
May 2016 · 998
9:40 p.m.
Lyra May 2016
a poem need not
rhyme. it just simply has to
mean something to you.
May 2016 · 238
8:27 p.m.
Lyra May 2016
You break my heart.
May 2016 · 562
So There's This Boy
Lyra May 2016
He like numbers, I like words.
He's logical but I'm impulsive.
He's reserved, I'm overexcited.
He's quiet while I'm quite talkative.
He likes metal, I like punk.
He likes horror, I like comedy.
He uses one word answers, I write a whole paragraph.
He likes Marvel, I like DC.

I have opinions on everything, he has opinions on nothing.
I joke about everything, he takes it too seriously.
I want to call, he wants to hang up.
I call his name across the hall, while he ignores me.

He was always so much better at not caring; I'd try so hard to be cold, but he always does better without even meaning to.

I love stories, he does not.
I like ice cream, he does not.
I care too much for him, he does not.
I try so hard to be supportive, he does not.
I shower him with compliments, he does not.
I make him feel appreciated, he does not.

I do this all from my heart, as genuine as the sun.

But we are running out of things to say to each other.


I love him.
He does not.
May 2016 · 267
1:45 p.m.
Lyra May 2016
your dark eyes were a
kaleidoscope of genuine
cosmic brilliancy.
May 2016 · 265
Lips
Lyra May 2016
The gentle suction
becomes addictive as my
teeth grazes your tongue.
Apr 2016 · 1.0k
If I Should Have A Daughter
Lyra Apr 2016
If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom,"
she's going to call me "Point B," because that way she knows
that no matter what happens,
at least she can always find her way to me.

And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands
so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say,
"Oh, I know that like the back of my hand."

And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face,
wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach.
But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to
remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.
There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry.

So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming,
I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to
wear the cape all by herself,
because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers,
your hands will always be too small to
catch all the pain you want to heal.
Believe me, I've tried.

"And, baby," I'll tell her,
don't keep your nose up in the air like that.
I know that trick; I've done it a million times.
You're just smelling for smoke so you can
follow the trail back to a burning house,
so you can find the boy who lost everything
in the fire to see if you can save him.
Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place,
to see if you can change him.
But I know she will anyway, so instead
I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby,
because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix.

Okay, there's a few that chocolate can't fix.

But that's what the rain boots are for,
because rain will wash away everything, if you let it.
I want her to look at the world through
the underside of a glass-bottom boat,
to look through a microscope at the galaxies
that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind,
because that's the way my mom taught me.
That there'll be days like this.

There'll be days like this, my momma said.
When you open your hands to
catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises;
when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the
very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape;
when your boots will fill with rain,
and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment.
And those are the very days you have
all the more reason to say thank you.

Because there's nothing more beautiful than the
way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline,
no matter how many times it's sent away.
You will put the wind in win some, lose some.
You will put the star in starting over, and over.
And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute,
be sure your mind lands on the
beauty of this funny place called life.

And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting,
I am pretty **** naive.
But I want her to know that
this world is made out of sugar.
It can crumble so easily,
but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out
and taste it.

"Baby," I'll tell her,
"remember, your momma is a worrier,
and your poppa is a warrior,
and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes
who never stops asking for more."

Remember that good things come in threes
and so do bad things and
always apologize when you've done something wrong,
but don't you ever apologize for
the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing.
And when they finally hand you heartache,
when they slip war and hatred under your door and
offer you handouts on street-corners of
cynicism and defeat,

you tell them that they really
ought to meet your mother.
A brilliant piece by Sarah Kay.
Apr 2016 · 313
ugh
Lyra Apr 2016
ugh
he filled my heart with bitterness
he filled my mind with resent
he filled my days with longing
for all the time we've spent

but after all I've felt
and for everything I've sold
I'm just left to wonder
if he's really just an *******
Apr 2016 · 360
Heart and Mind
Lyra Apr 2016
stealing kisses in empty classrooms
leaving the door unlocked,
with my head in your lap, your hand in my hair,
you untangled all of the knots.

you spoke to me about your past regrets
as I traced the veins on your arm,
I spoke to you about my past mistakes
as your fingers traced my palm.

I really don't know where we're headed
but I'll give you all my time,
you have my X's and O's and everything else
you have my heart and mind.

I love you with all I have
and I know you love me too.
no not the one by Edith Sitwell
Mar 2016 · 378
Cotton Candy Hearts
Lyra Mar 2016
he made a mess with pink cotton candy,
she never did like anything sweet;
he made a mess, he sang her songs,
while she always seemed to miss a beat.

she made a mess with blue cotton candy,
he'd always prefer the pink;
she made a mess, she wrote him letters,
while all he did was wash off the ink.
Mar 2016 · 297
Masterpieces
Lyra Mar 2016
We found ourselves lost among the paintings,
marveling at masterpieces;
we strolled for an hour, our hands clasped,
gaping at history's riches.

His breath quickened in the gallery,
he had one hand on my heart;
he traced his fingers along my jaw,
as if I was the art.
Mar 2016 · 547
Let Them In
Lyra Mar 2016
You walk around with your head hanging low,
blocking out all emotion,
you avoid eye contact and fight getting attached,
and live by simply going through motions.

You push people away who try to help,
and refuse to talk about your mind,
you've shut down all that you've so far felt,
and close your eyes to those who are kind.

You see, you've held yourself together so long,
you're afraid you'd fall apart,
if you lost focus for just a couple of seconds
and let people into your heart.

You've built yourself an icy shell,
your walls so strong and high,
they keep your tears from seeping out,
you couldn't break them down if you tried.

But, sweetheart, you really have to know
that you would be alright,
if you let your guard down for the people you love,
and didn't put up a fight.

I'm not sure what you went through
that scared you off from the world,
you seem to only notice the bad you knew,
and kept your fingers curled.

But really, darling, you have to remember,
life isn't always there to hurt you;
that the beauty of living overpowers the worst,
and that you'll always somehow pull through.

There has to be balance of the good and the bad
or the Earth would be thrown off its axis,
everything happens for a reason, be glad,
as in the end, the reason wouldn’t go amiss.

Yes, it will take time to fully recover,
but remember, one step at a time;
because after everything that you've gone through,
what's important is to start the climb.

Exhale negativity, one breath after another,
remember that you'll always win,
so as long as you open up your heart
and begin to let them in.
just my entry for the Queen's Commonwealth Essay Competition 2016!!
Mar 2016 · 689
Physics
Lyra Mar 2016
“I can’t wait to share lives with you, and go grocery shopping with you and have you offer to carry my books and go on picnics with you and go for two a.m. coffee hunts with you and to be able to kiss you whenever I want and to be able to hold you whenever I want and to be able to crawl into your arms after a long day and to have you hold me after I've had one of my breakdowns until I fall asleep. I can't wait to be able to see you every morning sitting on our couch with coffee and a smile. I can't wait to have you surprise me with flowers for no reason and to have you leave cute notes for me all over the house and to fill your thoughts every hour of the day, the way you fill mine. I can't wait to have you shower me with little kisses and surprise me with bear hugs and spoil me with your genuine love. I can't wait to be the part of your life you can't shut up about, I can't wait for you to show me off to your friends and to have you be proud of me. I can't wait for you to be in love with every part of me as I am with every part of you. I can't wait to wear your shirts and breathe you in after I've had one of my little fits. I can't wait to be the reason you are functioning and alive, the way you are mine. I can’t wait to massage your neck after a long day at work or have you tell me what you found interesting about physics class and spontaneously slow dance after an argument and spend a lazy afternoon in bed with you playing with my hair and me playing with your fingers. I can't wait to be the one you collapse against, after a challenging day of training. I can't wait to be the one kissing you and hugging you and supporting you after every basketball game and every race and every marathon. I can't wait to hug your sweaty body and grab your slippery face and kiss your lips so hard that you can ******* adoration and love for you. I can’t wait to start a family with you and to see you look at what we have and I can’t wait to grow old with you, even if I know you don’t love me back anymore.”
not really a poem, just an unsent letter to my unrequited love.
Jan 2016 · 196
Untitled
Lyra Jan 2016
and so, just like that, you were all of me,
every part of my soul's anatomy
Jan 2016 · 400
Because You Are Strong
Lyra Jan 2016
You know you are strong.
You promise yourself that you will never let anybody hurt you
or stop you from doing what you love.
And that will be true.
You will keep that promise for quite a while,
so long, that it comes naturally to you now.
Being stubborn and headstrong, and confident.

But one day, there will be a boy,
a boy you never saw coming.
He will steal your heart bit by bit,
and before you know it, you will be helplessly in love.
you will experience infatuation like you never had before.
you will go through emotions you thought were locked away for years.
you will shed tears over the boy you love.
you will get hurt
over and over again.
the boy will completely destroy you.



But, that is okay.
because you will learn,
slowly,
that life is not about shielding yourself from the world
and trying to be alone so you wouldn't get hurt.
No,
it's about opening yourself up,
and reaching out to everything you can touch.

You will learn
that it does not matter if you got hurt,
if you're a wreck,
because its what you do after that, that matters.

Getting hurt is only the beginning.
You will learn that sometimes,
in order for something to improve,
it has to be completely broken down,
before it rebuilds itself with even more light.

It will cease bit by bit everyday, the pain.
It will never stop hurting, no,
but now, you are no longer blinded by desperation.
You will look back with a smile on your lips,
and a whisper of memories.
Remembering the good, not only the bad.
And I promise you will wake up everyday,
with your head set straight,
and your heart beating loud and proud,

because you are strong.
Jan 2016 · 209
It Is Beautiful
Lyra Jan 2016
that my grandmother has countless wrinkles upon both her cheeks
from smiling too much as a child
Dec 2015 · 231
-XVIII
Lyra Dec 2015
so do you want to be in love or do you want to be happy?
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