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Nov 2016 · 180
Untitled
Moon Ariella Nov 2016
read the poetry i write,
and tell me you do not love me.

see the words that pour out of me,
and tell me i am not the most powerful force you've felt on this earth.

feel the emotion inside of me,
and tell me that you do not want to gaze inside of my soul and swim in the beauty, the purity, the divination and be drowned alive - worth it for the cause.

tell me i am not magic. i dare you.

i have experienced ethereal, other-worldly connection.
and here i am. standing. in spite of it all.

i am a living, breathing enchantment of metaphysics.

look me in the eye, engage with my mind and tell me that i am not a force to be reckoned with. feel me, and tell me that i am not everything. taste me, and tell me you are not starving.
Apr 2016 · 566
Untitled
Moon Ariella Apr 2016
I look up to the sky and realise how large this universe is and how endless the possibilities are and how minuscule I am in comparison, and I am dehydrated. I am dehydrated with a thirst for life that no man could ever quench.
Moon Ariella Apr 2016
I never want to have my feet so firmly on the ground that I am worried about trivial humanly things, that will disperse along with my body in this shell upon my time here on this earth.
Moon Ariella Feb 2015
They say home is where the heart is and they couldn't be more correct.

You see, I ripped my heart out and handed it to you whilst it layed beating in your open palm, and that is where it remained - in your clutch for eternity, and that's why you will always be where I belong.

You will always be my destination.
You will always be my journey, my route. My souls compass and GPS system will always direct me to you - through backstreets and alley ways and sidewalks, across continents and oceans - my path will always lead back to you. My mind will always have your existence mentally stored as my address. Your name will always be my street, my road. I don't remember any prior location before you. You will always be the place I go to rest, you will always be the place I lay my head. and for that, you are home.

Home is not made of plaster and paint, or bricks and mortar. Home is the look you give me when our souls communicate via the emotion in the dilated pupils of our eyes, like portals to another realm where it's only us that exist; without having to exchange a single word, without having to part our mouth even a centimetre, without having to exhale or breathe.

Home is feeling our fingertips draw together in perfect unison as though they are polar opposites, possessing a magnetic force after being apart for so long.

Home is the way your body slides effortlessly into the shape of mine so perfectly like fate intended us to complete the other half of another like the universes favourite jigsaw puzzle and we knew we were missing pieces before we met but we had no idea we were pieces.

Home is the warm feeling of fulfilment and content that fills my fragile heart entirely at 6am when we are climbing upstairs to bed together with sleepy slanted eyes, greeted by the light of the world waking and the birds tweeting, as we are only now just laying to rest. Because that's how it works doesn't it? you and me. it's us and our world, on different terms to the rest. the sun and the moon dancing around the planet of our love.
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
it's 5am and my bruised and tender ribs are crushing down on my even more-so bruised heart like they are aware of the feelings I possess and are attempting to compress them all and keep them caged inside of my soul to refrain them from making their escape and ending up into the wrong hands, hands who would rip them to pieces and make me choke on them six months down the line.

I feel them dig into me heavily like they know what's best for me, like they are saying "we know we are hurting you right now and we know you can't breathe but we're doing this to save you - to save you you from even worse pain in time to come when you'd stop breathing altogether and your tears become such a permanent imprint into your cheeks that people ask who your tattoo artist is and if he would do similar work on them, but you would look them in the eye and tell them they don't need needles scratched into the surface of their skin to attain the permanent scarification you do and instead you'll pass them the number of the boy who did this to you."
Dec 2014 · 639
Wrong
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
If all you seek is a release for your testosterone and a hiding place for your hormones then leave me in peace, for I'd much rather wrap myself around the words of greater men like Bukowski, or Hemingway, or Poe, Wilde, Cummings or Nietzsche.

They'd write about the words that slip from my lips and the way in which they somehow all of a sudden take them back to their childhood when they were three years old again, standing in the kitchen doorway, observing the verbal missiles being shot during the bitter separation of the parents marriage. 


They'd write about my eyes and the way they glisten with hope, brown orbs lit up like a fire, only to be dampened out again with realisation and truth and disappointment.

But, these boys, they don’t bother trying to find out exactly what, or who, I am. yet their concerns regarding me lie within more trivial areas.

They don’t know the map of green and blue that my veins depict. they don’t know the emotion that washes over me and grabs a choke of me, leaving me decomposed and gasping for breath. they don’t know the way the mechanics of my mind work. stop ******* disregarding my soul, my PERSON.

I am more than a body, i am more than a body, i am more than a body, i am more th-

in the words of Sylvia Plath, “kiss me and you will see how important i am.”
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
"You have to prepare yourself for her,
I could never just stand still and greet her;
it was too much at once

her eyes are like magnetic portals,
just waiting to teleport your soul
into a completely different realm of paradise

anything and everything is the greatest time of your life
when you have the moon with you

feeling her veins is my favourite sport,
it's intense...
like when your father lets you walk to school by yourself
for the first time
and you are desperately looking for the road sign

you finally see it and your entire body state changes,
you feel safe and relieved;

that feeling times by 33 thousand."

- G.M
- This is my favourite thing anyone has ever said about me
Dec 2014 · 995
More novel than girl
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
My god, I'm sick of belonging
I'm sick of being owned
I'm sick of being limited to what ever the **** it is that some ***** decides is fitting to define me as

you don't know me
I don't even know me
what the **** makes you think that you,
with your cookie-cutter shape, stereotype inducing, boxed-into-labels mentality of thinking is going to understand me?

I am a planet in my own right;
as a result of my own entity,
my own ******* thoughts and claims and efforts and achievements,
rather than as an assosciate of  another or a product of someone else

I am a ******* constellation of thoughts that your mind
could not even begin to fathom

once glance of my mind would send yours sideways

a one minute preview of what wraps itself around the deep,
bottomless, abyssal interrior of my skull
would entise you to smash your own

inside of me there are a thousand words, stirring
arranging the perfect sequence within their placement of my being
in order to concoct a storm worth being read;
not skimmed and mistaken as a light drizzle
but instead,
thoroughly scanned and recognised
as the tornados, the blizzards that they are,
kicking up a fuss and wiping out everything in their way

I possess an entire novels worth
including a sequel and trilogy

I am a story in my own right;
a book that you believe to have conquered and completed
a vaguely transparent, generic tale in which you believe to have mastered and defeated
but little do you know
that you have ventured barely as far as the first page

what lies within me is far beyond the reach
of the dainty intermediate level
in which you consistently surround yourself in
as though it is your safety blanket or comforter
as though you are a child with anxiety and mediocrity is your prozac

I am more than a brick in the wall of the kingdom
that you box your entire tiny, narrow universe into
and confine yourself within
in seek of refuge from a great perhaps
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
A boy

not a boy, but a soul;
an entity
a field of energy
positive energy
but hidden energy also

he was scared
or sad
or lonely

perhaps simultaneously all

you could see it in his eyes;
eyes as blue and wavering as the ******* sea, and his emotions

they betrayed him in a sense of portraying his deepest of feelings
even when he made feeble attempts to fight otherwise

one glimpse into them and you were graced
with a show reel preview
of his entire life

childhood memories
christmas with the entire family
brokenness and disputes
as unsettling as his beauty when he caught you off-guard

his features were as strong
and dark
as the chaos that stirred within him

a jawline sculpted like no other
hand-crafted for his individual attriibutes
thick, shapely brows and lashes the colour of coal;
a statement within themselves against the lightest of ivory skin

there's a saying "you look like you've seen a ghost"
in reference to someone looking ghoulishly pale
and whilst that is fitting of his porcelain complexion,

he wouldn't have seen the ghost: he was the ghost
that's just how he was
he was never the sub-heading
or the sypnosis

he was the entire story
he was it
everything

something within him was magnetic
and in each person he came acoss
there was metal tucked away
within them that they were unaware of

drawing them to him
Dec 2014 · 596
Lines
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
Your teeth sunk into my skin
in the same way that your words infiltrate my brain
and soak into my mind
letting themselves print repeatedly
like a student writing lines
Dec 2014 · 540
Miles
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
My legs were as un-*******-stable as my heart
and I could feel my knees trembling
in the same way that my bottom lip was

and even though the seats of the bus stop were only a short reach away
soon you wouldn't be
so I said nothing
and continued to stand with your arms around me
like I was your favourite belonging
that you were sheltering from damage

and I took the un-even strings of your hoodie into my hand
and traced onto your chest as though I was stitching up the wounds
of your shattered heart
and the blood that I could feel pouring out of it

but instead,
I traced the word "****"
and I got on my bus
and I left you
before you could leave me
Dec 2014 · 574
Braille
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
I memorised each trace of your skin on my fingertips
like a person without sight feels for their surroundings
and relies on touch alone for security
to feel around their home
Dec 2014 · 510
Sobs
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
If I listen to your sobs closely enough
I can hear them chanting my name
Dec 2014 · 1.4k
Soundwaves
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
Listening to your heartbeat like it's a story that'll never be told again

listening to your heartbeat like it's the first edition vinyl
of my favourite song
and the only copy ever made

listening to your heartbeat
like the universe is sending me a message
through the whistles of the wind

listening to your heartbeat like science is trying to contact me
via the thuds of your *****
and justify the inexplicable
of how two astronomically unidentifiable catastrophes
clashed and become one planet
in a galaxy surrrounded by false stars
that actually turned out to be passing planes
Dec 2014 · 1.5k
Disease
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
You say you need me
but don't you know why my star sign is named after a disease?

I am an illness
that will take residence inside your veins
and flow through your bloodstream
until I pour out of you
in every single way

I will take power over your bones
and make you ache
until you cannot move
in the slightest angle
without seething my name in pain

I don't know anyone who needs that
Dec 2014 · 700
Living or existing?
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
There's something magical about the night time
and the way in which the roads clear
in the same way that your mind does

you'd think that would make things easier;
that the complete eery silence would bring peace of mind
with no one else awake to witness the movement
- or seemingly lack of -
on the earth
making you feel special, significant; as though this planet was designed and created especially with you in mind
and you are the only habitant

as though you share a secret with the universe,
an inside joke with the moon
and a bond with the stars

but that's what makes your harrowing thoughts all that much louder

there's no busy bustle of shoppers in a rush to waste their money
on materialistic items
that will decompose  upon the arrival of their death
as quickly as their corpses will
or employees hurrying in order to attend a 9-5 shift that they despise
in order to attain the funds to purchase said items

no businesses or traders
just the constellations in the sky and shrubbery rooted deeply
growing within the cracks of the paving
as though it's natures way of communicating via the universe
gloating, "ha! man can't take everything from me!"
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
Everyone is talking of the storm that is taking our tiny little town
by exactly that
but no one cares to acknowledge the tsunami ambushed within me: dormant and inert
lurking among the seemingly gentle and calming flow
of my bloodstream
that unknowingly kicks up a violent tide of waves amid me
making my DNA an angry arrangement of both too much
and yet not enough

everyone speaks of the flooding rain and the way in which
it is crashing down on their worlds
and smashing aggressively against their windows
preventing them from any means of peace
and ruining the gardens that they so carefully constructed
but no one dares to speak of the downpour imbedded
in the depth and sole of MY roots
and whats planted within the deepest crevices of MY potted bones

and aren't they informed that if they really desire a lack of sleep, restlesss nights and tired, dark eyes
that they can seek that same effect within me?

everyone is speaking in choral unison of fear about the lightening
that is striking and leaving permanent scarification
to forever mark it's territory;
unceasingly imprinting the torment it has made
but aren't they aware that I have battle wounds and stitches
burrowed away in the pit of my entity
and a hospital bill addressed to your name
and I didn't need assistance from the weather for those
but it's fun to watch the flashes light up the sky like God is up there
laughing and taking photographical evidence of the chaos
that  he's concocted

and everyone speaks of the thunder like they're so ******* god-****
proud that it forcefully voices and shoves it's far too ******* loud opinions down everybody's ******* throats
yet they remain oblivious to the passion that sleeps inside of me,
louder than I can attain a scream
yet it remains silent, abeyant

inside of me roars a sentiment far beyond the knowledge of anything
that will ever even scratch the surface
of the petty grasp of their awareness
Dec 2014 · 996
Love and other drugs
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
You do not know love
until you are painfully familiar
with the constant ache that takes ownership of your soul
far too often when you are without him by your side

you do not know love until your mind is sewn
with thoughts of him
scattered in every creek
until there is not an empty or peaceful corner to back away into
without bumping into a plantation within the garden
that he has grown inside of you

you do not know love until his hands explore your skin as though
it is a map of the world that you plan to venture through together
and even the green and blue running through your wrists are now a subtle representation of the globe that you shall journey through together

and he brings to you
the warmth
that will hit you both
when you step off the plane in an unfamiliar land

the hurried bustle through a crammed airport
as you rush for your flight
with laughter in your eyes whilst your luggage flies
in the same way that you feel you are when you're with him

you do not know love until his lips are medicinal
and each kiss possesses the power to heal
and you were so broken to begin with

you do not know love until when you are in is presence
you feel the platonic plates of the earth halt beneath your feet
and you daren't breathe
in fear of losing a second of the moment that you know will already fleet by far too soon

you do not know love until his laughter is music to your ears
and amongst a shop of worthless CDs
consisting of auto-tuned pop garage of false teen romance
he is your one favourite record
with lyrics so beautiful that you wish to replay them again and again
and if he was infact,
made of vinyl
you would hesitate to remove his dust cover
in fear of ruining the art that he is

you do not know love until he opens his mouth
and a fountain of words pour out
and you are hanging on to each and every one
until you are almost drowning in a sea of his ramblings
and you do not wish for a life jacket
but instead,
you wish for nothing more than to let a sea of his rants
wash you up and leave you on the shore
decomposed and gasping for breath

you do not know love until his touch becomes a portal
into another planet in which it is only you two that exist

you do not know love until you lay to the soundtrack of his heartbeat
and you discover the reason as to why you were homesick for all those years;
because home is in his arms

you do not know love until you are hooked on him like a drug
and there is not a sober vein left in your body
Dec 2014 · 1.2k
Pining
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
But you are a galaxy
I am merely the moon
orbiting your existence
in an attempt to brighten your surroundings
and nervously contribute to the art that you are

if you are rain
I am a cloud
made up of tiny parts of you

my existence obtaining no other purpose
other than consisting solely of you
growing inside of me
to display you to the world as you proudly pour out of me

if you are a book
I am the blurb
a review
a quote of redcommendation
boasting your brilliance
gleaming with pride
whilst simply being overlooked with no credit

but

if I were a galaxy
you would be the higher power that created me

and if I were a cloud
you would be the sun
as you become present
I would merely disappear behind your greatness
making my grey hue succumb into melting into your light
until I am no longer what I was to begin with

and if I were a book
you would be the author
personally scribing sentences into the pages of my mind
hand carving each word carelessly
without any idea just how important the story that will be created,
as a result of your actions, will be

and you continue to scratch away
not caring about wearing down the fabric of who I am
because I am only pine
and you are mahogany
Dec 2014 · 1.3k
Roses
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
If you are wondering whether to go on adventures
with the beautiful strange boy
with the light eyes
that allow you to see into his soul
don't

because he will leave  your heart
in a galaxy far away out of reach
and he will make tiny stars burst out of you
with each flutter of an eyelash
and he will make your pupils dilate
and your knees weak
and you will not be able to remove the taste of his kisses from your lips
and you will not be able to find a fragrance strong enough
to disguise his own that he left on you
so with every movement
you will be reminded of him
and you will hurt

and if you are wondering whether or not
to swap
5 confessions at
4am about
3 words between the
2 of you
and how you want to be the only
1 that matters to him

don't

because he will plant roses
in even the darkest corners of you
and rip them to pieces
when he realises he prefers tulips

- A.A. ©

— The End —