I know I'm in love because I'm filled with pain And my mind is telling me to play twisted games Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3, When I am away, do you miss me? Or do you wish you were free? Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3, When I leave, are you filled with relief? Or are we on the same page? Torn by insecurities You told me I deserve to be loved But this doubt will only die with me So, maybe the best option is to set you free Even if I'm wrong
love hurts. a lot. but it's also wonderful. i'll try harder to accept it.
Slick with self preservation, I moisturize away the blemishes. Night masks alone in the apartment. Mane too long they dampen Dark lines on dark skin, strands stick to me blacker than kajal. I’ll shower in the morning. Grabbing at the extra, cupping Slapping and ******* it in. I’m so much when i think I’m not enough. Wrapping it in lace, hug where it goes in Abnormal hourglass, I turn around to examine The lightning storm around my thunder thighs too thick to gap, Just a small wineglass Under a coarse tangle. “Need to workout again.” Dimples press and flatten, Tattoos jiggle and beckon. The hairs on my legs are fine stand straight in the cold My feet are sort of dry, I dip them in cream And slip on soft socks I could Never wear in sleep, I think of a silly dream where I’m blonde and very thin Like the best friend Of every man I’ve ever been with The one they crush(ed) on only just a little- but that was a long time ago. Such a funny pattern, Such a common trend. I wonder if I’m meant to bring myself to that. But to change so quickly- I’d rather be fat, dark and dead.
“You’re beautiful” I say For lack of a better word Because how can I only describe her as so? She’s what it feels like to feel the sun dance upon your face The wind gently rustling your hair The glowing of wood lit aflame Candles flickering while the windows rattle from wind
She’s the beginning of the Star Wars theme at full blast Hearing the sound of the TARDIS for the first time in so long The opening credits of each long-awaited marvel movie Feeling the magic of reading the first Harry Potter book again The closing of a finished book, knowing there’s more to come Rapping every line of Hamilton perfectly
She’s everything pure in the world that brings unbridled joy And there’s no way that “beautiful” could EVER Measure up to that
often more times than not, i question if i have a knack for writing poems. truth be told, i cannot discern the answer. i attempt to make something roll off the tongue. but, it's hard to do so when you don't know how to start. so, a poet like me will have trials and tribulations that weigh heaviness on themselves. it's the soul-crushing kind that feels similar to a heart aching. because you want to be one of the best, but the reality is that you don't have the means to become better.
insecurity gets the best of me. even when I don’t mean for it to. a fear of becoming bothersome with these afflictions I try to suppress. I suffer restlessly with these sentiments, earnestly craving a silence from the voices that resound persistently in my head. I struggle with the irons wrapped around me, screaming routinely that it’s all a facade. no matter how hard I try, how far I run, the thoughts are always ahead of me. always one step in front, beckoning me. enticing me to welcome their embrace. an embrace of sorrow, of lies and of pain. a place of immeasurable uncertainty. blanketed by a face of calm.
No matter how you sugarcoat it, there is never a nice way of calling someone fat.
“You would have been beautiful in the Renaissance era [because in the Renaissance era they painted portraits of chubby girls like you— back then, fat was artistry.]
I still don’t know what I was more upset about: The backhanded compliment-- "would have" being synonymous for "no longer"-- or the fact that I was conditioned to believe the Mona Lisa was anything short of sublime.
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dancing in the deep down dramatic, lulling lays of Lana Del Rey—
a quill on its snow-white then tainted-black ground and a flooded, brimful head on its space—
till the airhead wakes and weeps and wails.
A late post here, gotta admit that I still feel frustrated and mad at myself that I am unable to write lots like some of my friends. They are able to write long, gorgeous pieces even from the simplest of words.
Treated, as if my heart's like yours Talked to, as if I intruded your words Looked on, and had brought my eyes nurture, But my couple of words never went any further. You're kind and you're caring, But you'll never try hearing, Just what my tongue ponders And just what I am bearing.
It's true that I'm wrong, But it's wrong what you've sung, That I'm painted real pretty And I'm made from some stone. Don't feel lost or feel pity, Just keep talking and loving me.
See it's simple my darling There's no pain or torture It's just weary and frailty, And imperfections unblurred.
It takes time and good vision, It takes feeling some words. It takes more than you'll realize, But it's not so unsure, That I'll quickly find inside, All the sweet and the pure.