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Sep 2021 · 1.7k
Camp
seekai Sep 2021
I walk through a ghost town
where I’m never alone,
kicking empty cider cans across the road,
whispering secrets to the stale, morning air
where my life, at a standstill,
hangs over the beat of a single heart

and a single large Eye,
watching,
always watching,

judging my footsteps as I cross
the path, to a flatland, between the forest
and the streams of music playing in my ears -

there's a spring in my step this cold winter.
Even though I don’t see the sun until it’s too late,
I dance, like the dead, poison in my veins,
because I’m free from my grave.

I’m free from monochrome soil -
draped in a bright pink dress,
I kiss the days away with a warm hand in mine,
and a stolen, back-washed bottle in the other.

I skip on the pavement, rocking back and forth
to high notes and drum rolls,
where I find myself moving between friends and pages,
collared sweatshirts and daydreams.

I whisper my moments of happiness to the North Wind
and hope it travels South,

down to you, down home,

where you’ll hear of my vices
and understand everything.
this poem captures my first term experience in my first year of university. it deals with new-found, personal freedom, along with the chaotic response that comes with it. there's a sense of despair within the anarchy, but also a feeling of homesickness - i've missed you through it all; i want you to hear of my adventures.
seekai Jul 2020
There’s a dull ache, in my stomach,
and it pushes me down, covers
my skin and it’s scars,
and I can’t stop flirting with the pain.

I’m asking it to reveal itself,
show me what it has, if it dares,
but I can’t help but wonder,
how you’d feel in the palm of my hand -

I wake to that sense of familiarity,
of the outline of your face, and the jaw
that locks itself in my brain,
the dark, murky waters of my chest.

Let’s move from our bed, the one that
used to be mine - now it’s shared
with you and your demons
as their legs lock, intertwined.

Show me more, and more,
ignore the way my heart screams silently.
I can feel the roughness of your cheek
in my dream, but that’ll be all.
a poem about conflict and desire - i want you, too much, because i can't have you. and yet here you are, every time i close my eyes, and every time my head hits my pillow.

follow my instagram: @seekai.poetry :))
Jul 2020 · 109
Wonder
seekai Jul 2020
I wonder if
every morning, you sigh when you wake.

If you force a smile when you look in the
mirror, and pour out your emotions with the milk.

I wonder if
you think about me when you walk

like a ghost through corridors, floating
behind the eyes of everyone else,

thinking you’re unseen. I wonder if
you scream in your head, begging to be heard,

or if you’re used to being a sheet of paper,
once white but drawn over by the people you love.

I wonder if
there’s colour in your life. If the reason you lie
behind closed eyes is just because you’re scared.

I wonder if you sleep dreaming about a better life,
only to be awoken again in a bleak nightmare
you can’t escape.

I hope -
this poem is about wondering - wondering what the person, stuck in your head does, every day, with every small, intimate detail. i wonder what it's like to be you.

follow my instagram: @seekai.poetry :))
Feb 2019 · 1.1k
Memory Beach
seekai Feb 2019
Walking hand in hand on the beach
Our footprints in the sand
The cool summer wind that breathes
It’s life across the land.

I see the summer memories
That float by in my eyes
I feel the taste of happiness blow
As I stare up at the skies

Summer has held many great things.
Parties, silly fun.
But one thing I won’t forget
Is our time in the sun.

I feel warm when I’m next
To you. Walking side by side.
On this beach as we relive the times
Where we all laughed and cried.

It’s summer that gave us this
I'll remember that when you go
I’ll hold your hand and keep you close
But you’ll leave one day, I know.

So I reach the end of the strip
The water lapping at our feet
The summer thoughts that now fly by
Oh, they’re good but bittersweet.

The summer has now reached an end
But I need you by my side.
Too late, you’re gone.
Walked back into the tide.
this was the first proper poem that I wrote when I was younger, and sparks the beginning of my passion for writing. it's personal, filled with memories and written just after one of the most memorable summers of my life.

— The End —