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Tatiana Mar 31
"How are you doing?"
those words pierced through my coat
bypassing the buttons that I didn't notice were open
until he spoke them
How I froze words intended to warm
into a pointed intrusion meant to warn
me of my icy exterior
It jabbed at my heart like icicles
pressed into the wound that throbbed and pulsed
He maintained eye contact when he asked
and my eyes were wide
with weariness I couldn't truly hide
but I could disguise
"I'm doing well and you?"
I replied to the man holding a stop-sign
my voice pleasant like springtime
when the wind rustled green-leafed trees
during the early sunrise
and the morning doves sang a sweet melody
covering up my shivering heart
"I'm doing good," he said
and nodded his head
in response to my quiet 'thank you'
he waited until I crossed the small street
eyes at my back, tracking my slow, steady steps
and when I got to the other side
I paused for my crossing guard said one more thing
"I hope you have a good day!"
and I said with a smile too bright, "You too,"
and went on my way
marching through the bright, winter day
hoping that this road would just take me away
Just take me away
©Tatiana
Here is a quickly written poem about a terrible decision I made in January of this year. I went for a walk instead of going to work. I went for a walk because I felt if I stopped moving, if I got behind the wheel of a car, I would do something drastic. And during this walk, I had this interaction described in the poem with a crossing guard. A simple, normal conversation. And it hurt so much to have it.
I'm doing a lot better now than I was in January. I started therapy and even did some group therapy as well which was really helpful. For the first time in my life I truly felt understood by others. I could see that people cared.
I'm still struggling a bit. With the pandemic that is going on it has ruined the routine I created for myself so I need to develop a new one. I hope everyone is doing their best to stay healthy and practicing social distancing. We will get through this.
One more thing, I haven't really been posting on here due to the above mental health struggles/getting help for it, but I also haven't been posting because I've been writing poetry. Which sounds odd. What I mean is that I have enough poems to create a collection. So be on the lookout for that in the future and I will give updates as they come.
Stay healthy and safe out there!
-Tatiana
Kasti Mar 2019
I think about you a lot.
You’re always on my mind.
It’s honestly troubling sometimes,
how much you cross through my mind.

Never checking both ways, left, right, left.
Never considering how I would feel.
You don't tread lightly when exploring
my undiscovered corners and thoughts.

But that’s okay, I love you too much to blame you.
It’s unhealthy, maybe, maybe not, I know that I want you.
I need you.

but I don't love you.

Please just kiss me one time,
I’ve been dying to know you.

Just kiss me once more,
I've been dying to know
if this is real life.

A whirlwind of thoughts sweeps through, taking houses and trees right out the ground
Crashing, flashing, with a bang and a spark, it’s like magic
The flood of your eyes has fully taken over
And you’re the only thing on my mind.
I don't know why I write
Masuda Khan Juti Feb 2019
When crossing roads look.
Look left, look right.
When kissing your lover,
don't look. Stay blind.
Amira Sep 2018
I thought I understood distance
When I learned at school it is defined as
“The amount of space between two points.”
I learned distance can be measured in various units
As steps, kilometres and miles
or even intervals of time.

I thought I understood distance
When I counted 2362 steps walking to school
And noticed my dad’s car meter increasing two miles
In three minutes driving me back home.

But my understanding had changed when I started measuring longer distances.
And attempting to cross them.

I travelled a distance measured in kilometres and hours to see him.
Such distances can be easily crossed.
Either I took the next train, or drove my car
Distance as an amount of space was two thousand kilometres
And distance as an amount of time was only a few hours.

I thought I understood distance,
But never the amount of space between two specific points;
My lips and his lips.

I travelled a distance measured in bottles of wine and years to kiss him.
Such distances can’t be easily crossed.
I could walk miles of skin
And distance as an amount of space between us
Could extend tiresome.
But such distances aren’t necessarily a barrier.
I have crossed all the oceans we created
I counted all the bodies
And I have indulged in his lips.

It took me two bottles of wine and twenty years
To actually understand distance

But my understanding is obsolete
For him and I ,
Are still two distant entities.
I started writing this poem with great inspiration, but the inspiration wore off halfway through, which is why I still feel it is not complete. Please tell me what you think, and what you would suggest.
P.S : the poem is written to be read in a loud and slow manner.
Moments Before Sep 2018
That I have been so worried of the blue sky and its impossible return. Have I forgotten of the splendors of the night. I keep to myself this humor and gossip. Seeking out the tabloids of my mind. Paranormal are the long walks with sound in my ears and street set alive with light. Entire plays fully staged in my blind. Researched the movement of strangers with all their own clamor.  Sat out the words of greeting to passers-by. One day this night will end and the thoughts will slowly pass from me. It is a requirement that I step beyond my doors to flee from the impending.  Knowing deep down the creature comforts are not a sin but an alienation of my joy. Now a prisoner of dissociation like me is enslaved by what I think is freer. Over dramatic as it might be I am well aware. What spoiled lows I have been raised.  Many gutters and glassy gazes. Your feet are dragging between the grasses. So this is how life reacts. Exactly as I dream. Control the alternative in me and delete it. Refute the muses whispers and sterilize it in the road.  Even though the thought is terminal. The fortuity of memories will serve.  Love the younger parts of you. In the fields, we go. For some time I walk the winding ways when under wonders haze. "Enter this wild wood and view the haunts of nature".

The significance of every start. The words traced in the sand swallowed by the shore encrypted lake. Sever the seven crossings. From the first letter, I have ever sent.
Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood inspired this. It was written by: William Cullen Bryant

The inscription is on a bridge very very nearby in Milwaukee, the inspiration for this. I hope you enjoy.
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