after years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor i think i finally understand why the face staring back at me in the mirror is so unfamiliar
i am not my dark eyes, i am not my crooked nose, i am not my thin lips, i am not my rosy cheeks
no, i am the hairstyle that my mother taught me how to do before middle school started so that i could take care of myself i am the love poems that run through my head all day because language is so wonderful and you are so wonderful and sometimes i can't help but experience certain compositions as many times as possible i am the friendship bracelet that i wear on my wrist that matches with my best friend who would never wear a bracelet in a million years but did it for me i am the whirlpool of love that exists behind my eyes that shy glances and awkward eye contact put there
i see myself in my fingers mindlessly tapping out rhythms from my favorite songs, not in my tears, but i see myself in everything i mourn for
i see myself in the money i saved from my grandmother's funeral three years ago because i am too attached to part from it, not in my smile, but i see myself in my inability to keep a straight face when someone laughs at my jokes
the years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor was worth it because i see myself in those too, more doodles in the margins of the storybook of my life
in the end, i became who i am because of you
humans are but mosaics of the people around them ;;; we are such little seeds if not watered by loved ones
I am scared to let go of my sadness. It has become such a big part of my life that I don’t know what I would be without it, and isn’t it better to stick with something familiar rather than throwing your entire personality away on the off chance that you’ll get better?
I am scared to be left alone in this terrible world filled with terrible people. My fear is so much a part of me that I don’t know what I’d do if not worrying about what is to become of the mess of a person I’ve become, and isn’t it better to stick with something familiar rather than throwing your entire personality away on the off chance that you’ll get better?
I am scared to try and fix myself. I am scared to try and become a better person because if I’m a better person then it will just hurt more when I **** up and isn’t it better to stick with something familiar rather than throwing your entire personality away on the off chance that you’ll get better?
These are the questions that constantly run through my head... and perhaps they will never be answered.
All things ancient are once born young. All things secret are shared by tongue. All things hatred are worn with love. All things whispered are sung by doves. All things stone always come undone.
the inspiration for this poem primarily came from the thought i had, that all things like ancient or old or archaic were once young, smart words out of the mouths of the loud. brand new and original, and here we are, writing about them, like they're old news or yesterdays column.
Dearest divine distance, I pray, be more familiar, Be kinder, be closer, I can't yet make out your figure, Omniscient darling distance, could you beckon me to you? Desperately, I've called out in the dark, be nearer, that I may be new.
I often think I never loved you. I was just a dumb kid after all. What fifteen year old understands love? I think I just felt comfortable with you. My lips had never touched another's. My arms were use to your embrace. Your family had welcomed me as their own. I didn't know how I could break away from it. Even as you hurt me, and left me crying countless times, I couldn't take the steps to get away from you. The thought of leaving you plagued me. What would it be like to smell your cologne, and to recognize it as just another scent. Nothing special. Or to walk the halls of our school, without you holding my hand. You see, I don't think I loved you. I was just afraid of being alone. I was use to you. You were just there. You were just familiar.
A random thought I had about teenage love. My first real relationship was a toxic mess. And for awhile I tried to figure out how the "love" I felt dissipated so quickly after I broke up with this guy (who was horrible to me), then I realized I had just been comfortable with him. It wasn't anything deeper. Just someone I was use to being with. Not that i didn't care for him. I just didn't love him.
something about you. something about october the dried up leaves and the way everything feels quiet in the middle of the day like living inside of a vhs tape that hasn't been rewound in a decade or two makes me want to start visiting the cemetery make friends with the forgotten when we ended up walking the dogs there on accident it felt like coming home i'll bring my books and a bag of dried cherries, peanut butter bars of dark chocolate wrapped in gold foil, sunflower seeds the nightstand with the warped wooden drawer that's always getting stuck where i keep the half-melted birthday candles and a box of matches, just in case prop my pillow up against a headstone read vonnegut until i fall asleep grow closer to death until it doesn't scare me anymore i used to think ghosts lived in mausoleums but now i know they live inside of a twenty-four-year-old who watches the same vampire movie every time it rains just to feel safe inside the familiarity of the past i'm still the twelve-year-old girl just waiting for something to happen to her i burn my skin in the shower just to feel less alone