Florence Catan Dec 2017

one drop of hesitation
one splash of doubt
one ripple of self-loathing
one wave of frustration
one tsunami of anxiety

and there i am.
drowing.
searching for
my sweet escape

cura te ipsum,
Florence.

i had a real shit day.

shoutout to hokusai.

i thought about making this one a recipe where i'd add pinches of misery and hopelessness but this felt a little better?
Irina BBota Nov 2017

You will look for me when the sun will dry your tear
and passenger lovers will accuse your pain,
when you escape from the world's horror and fear,
when the gentle breeze's music will fall down as rain.
Or not...

You'll look for me when your excuses will be drowned
and your warm, ruby glance ​​will look for an answer,
when my laugh will have a contagious sound,
when you meet me on the street, in the arms of a dancer.
Or not...

You're going to look for me, grumpy and full of hesitation,
when the thighs of the nights will be closer than yesterday,
when I'll not look back for a long time from love's station,
when rhymes will be written on violin accords, in my holiday.
Or not...

You're going to look for me and ask me with your sight
if red rose petals of romance had fallen over my life,
but I will not let the flame burn me anymore, in the night,
even if your memory I will let it go, without a strife.
Or not...

The ancient word for hesitation.
Twisting and turning in your three-dimensional mind like a maze
till the ball of string you carry gets all tangled up.

Perhaps I should be more decisive...
Maybe I should me more conclusive...
Make up my mind like a bed and then,
maybe I should lay in it. Assert myself.
Treat life like a chess board.

Make my moves through my own devices
and not rely on the intervention of higher forces,
or guardian spirits to pilot my choices,
or sit uncomfortably on fences waiting for the fates
To push me either side.

Tweogan.
It is reassuring to know it's an age old phenomenon.
That even our ancestors were predisposed to
rock to and fro in fevers of doubt and indecision.
That our ancestors would dabble in-between conscientious visions;
caught in anxious possibilities and cautious projections.

The hidden threads of back and forth thought
all forgotten by hindsight's way of portraying
a seamless fluidity to the embroidery of life.

Written early 2016.
Raquel Butler Sep 2017

If I knew then
What I know now?
That my words were safe in you
That my heart was safe with you
That I had little to fear but myself
If I knew then
What I know now?
I would have said it all
I would have given you my heart
I wouldn’t have hesitated trusting you
If I knew then
What I know now?
Oh but I knew,
I knew, I knew
,
You had me from the start.

Sometimes I’m afraid to talk to you openly
Sometimes I’m afraid to to talk to you anyway
These are the times, that I most regret
These were the times, ilost my way

Sometimes I think, you might not like me
Sometimes I think, you may even hate
These are the times, that I most regret
These are the times, icurse my fate

But these sometimes led me to a decision
And these sometimes made me realize
That fate is nothing, but it’s Maktub– already written
then why this misery and why this suffocation?

Druzzayne Rika Jul 2017

all my opinions broken
because my changing perception
I battle out in making decisions
trying to draw better reason
but stopped by hesitation
as is not by everyone's expectation

Yanamari Jul 2017

I am afraid of the pain
Of being rejected again
But my heart yearns
And yet reels all the same.

The barriers that surround me
Rise higher than mountains, but
Take a step towards me
And they'll come tumbling down.

But those walls rise
Again and again
Pushing back all
So that when I look to the sky,
I look straight up
So that I don't notice
The empty landscape...

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