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Spicy Digits Sep 27
"I already matter,
I already matter"
What she whispered to me
Low frequency,
And,
Gently removing the zip ties of my youth,
Sang Rocket Man just under her breath
To no-one in particular.

"I already matter"
That slap-in-the-face truth
Words impossible to unpick from my teeth.
But right there,
She just breathed into being
A delectable bite-sized epiphany
For only my ears.

"I already matter"
A song of logic with such obviousness
The gods synchronized their eye-rolls
In response
Yet somehow we ****** up the lyrics
-they're passed down, that's why-
From wars, and hate and Ashmedai.

"I already matter,
I already matter"
She's here again...
And I think it's going to be a long long time
Till touchdown brings me 'round again to find...
That was the first time I didn't want to run
The first time I wanted to live it through,
But I was caught up in my wishes and went blind
That I could no longer see the truth.

But once I'm distant, picture's clearer
I now do understand you well
You didn't want the past to be repeated,
Preferred your safety shell.

I do not judge, I am aware
It's scary to trust people,
To open up and share
Your darkest secrets.

It's fine to take precautions,
Keep distance, and be scared.
When a heart has already been broken,
It needs some time to get recovered and prepared.

I wish you all the best, my darling,
I'm glad I've met your precious soul.
You'll never stop inspiring
And being someone who's dear and close
Dante Rocío Sep 1
i made a mental note
not so long ago:
i matched the dots
and saw
(or maybe rather “touched”)
that almost all
the books that come
into my life
for a reason,
to change it
and/or stay have
the same wondrous
smell
chosen by me
that i
adore in
a book.

art,
as physical plastic one,
will
show
my eyes so deeply that
one/you will feel
nostalgia for something
you’ve never known before
once gazing into them,
wet,
glistened,
a maze,
and in a daze.

musings:
second true form
how poetry arrives to
me
and chooses me!

forms are
all diamond facets,

just so many.
i want to make them,
become me so
much.
in my due now that
will come
by the will of.
Allah.
“Everything formed a drawing, a handwriting, a sign. Odours sent out their luminous signals from the top of their towers, or from where they lay buried in their secret grottoes.”
~ J. M. G. Le Clézio
Esther Aug 23
you know
if we never moved
perhaps we could stop time
everything would be frozen
in this infinite moment
the stars would stay in the same position
on this deep blue canvas
if we never left that beach
everything would stay still
if we never moved
you know
living our lives out in a painting, chasing after you beneath the stars 🌌
Ankita Dash Jun 30
two tickets to barcelona sants
I told you I missed my flight

my bus broke down halfway into London and tonight
i'm crashing on someone's boyfriend's couch
it's a quarter to three and all I hear is
arctic monkeys inside a funeral hall
where I wore black lace like an unburnt witch
and resurrection like a diamond ring
and I feasted on the thought of how close I was to being whole again

because you thought I'd die without you
but life is more than just a memory of you
Divya Jun 11
You were like the Moon to my dark sky, for one moment,
And a lost star in another.
You were like a sigh of relief for one moment,
And a breath to fight hard for, in another.
You were like one moment's epiphany,
And a beautiful stranger in another.
Enia May 2
I felt the heat.
Blue, yellow, orange sparkled
my brightly colored scales as I move my tiny fins back and forth.
"I haven't experienced this magnificent sight on me before."
I looked up.
A beam of light had shone above me.
I wondered..
What is beyond this
and the other parts of me?
Blinding, my eyes squinted.
I followed the light,
I swam up until my tiny fins hurt.
I arrived in a space where the water meets the air
I saw a golden light.
Everything.
It flashed through me.
I heard ambient music nearby,
creatures flying in the sky.
I stared at the light.
The light..

                                             was endless...
Enough is enough.
I'm done sitting in a room of darkness.
I'm done shouting into the void of black.
I want the world to see me for who I am.
For without the controversy of a feeling man,
I would not be what I am.

Enough is enough.
I want the world to see,
what I was meant to be.
I want my creativity,
to pour and pour out of me.
For without the controversy of a creative man,
I would not be what I am.

Enough is enough.
I need the world to relinquish me,
from this undying epiphany.
This epiphany which tells me,
that I am nothing without my pen.
I am this pen,
and this pen is I.
Bleeding ink to page,
while I figure out what next to write.
As though there is nothing to do,
but write.
For without the controversy of a passionate man,
I would not be what I am.

When enough is enough,
you suddenly become,
good enough.
I've been struggling with self-worth lately. Writing about it helps a lot. While in this writing session, I've learnt that I need to accept myself for who I am, instead of letting other people's opinions define me.
One: my life spins in small circles
that very infrequently stretch
to somewhere as far as Benidorm

Two: that after 12 years married
she’s right about most things
so I’ll listen more

Three: a lot of annoying stuff
is dust in a much bigger wind
so look for the wins

Four: the kids are what it’s for
and all their silliness, fear and anger
is a handle to clutch on to

Five: we are here and alive
and we should forever
fight to keep it so
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