Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Your name
has been locked into
the secret dimension
inside my mouth
known only by our tongues.

so i keep searching
7 months out
since losing my only key

trying to find another
to fit
or
force
the last remnant of us
out of me.
Bastiana as me, being this lady truly that you see,
Within my solemn being, I am a love-a living dream.

You can not keep me from the light,
I am always a part of life, though not in plain sight.

Have a few or two lily's and put them aside,
I give this to the well and cast the spell-bide my time.

I tried the name Sebastian on for size, no lie,
But found myself in love with Bastiana, I can't deny.

Bastiana as me, I know I'm Alan to some degree,
But when all is frozen in time-don't you know?
My love, Bastiana...why this name...it is the one true me.
My love, it's this one and only name, the real me!

Why oh why do I keep on trying to deny...?

Bastiana means revered, by the by. Hehe
I'm still hunting for hints that we were meant to be.
I'm still sticking to stubbornness and calling it Destiny.
Our lovers' meeting was not a silly, coincidental thing,
but a truth as simple as the name my mother gifted me;
picture Paradise - I am its spring.
So flow down,
take a sip,
baptise this significance!
And leave your doubts on your lips;
they're mine to take
and
annihilate.


Copyright © 2022 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
I believe in fate, serendipity, destiny and kismet connections because I'm such a hopeless romantic and I just realised that our names' meanings are connected too so, this feels significant to me.

(P.S. you can follow me on instagram, if you'd like to @sykmusings ♡)
Heidi Franke Oct 2021
Silent stars reside
In the blue milieu
Continuing their stellar constancy by day.
They are there like my love,
silent, unpretentious, patient and kind.

Trace your finger along the sky, connecting the dots of your name to a safe, congenial and forgiving place to call home. Maybe your name will meet with mine in the night when the stars return, walking across the expanse of loving kindness that is within your reach.

See you tonight dearest one. Just look up.
Don't call me Rebecca
We don't have to be so formal

Don't call me Rebecca
As though we are doing business

Don't call me Rebecca
As though we are strangers

Don't call me Rebecca
I'm losing my patience

Don't call me Rebecca
What ever happened to friendliness?

Don't call me Rebecca
We don't need to be so proper

I want to be mates
So let's start again

Don't call me Rebecca
Beckie is my name
don't call me Rebecca
Laokos Mar 2021
heather is a feminine body
in a suede chair under charcoal ceilings

perry is wearing
sweaters to evening dinners

katie is a black light poster
in newspaper print

alex is an origami sailboat

spoon feed yourself some more cathleen,
the cats are waiting
J Dec 2020
sometimes
though I suppose I should say often
taking into consideration that
I cannot go a single day without
feeling this way
but once again that won't accurately describe
because this issue that I'm having
is not feeling anything
so let's say
experiencing this.
I cannot go a day without
knowing this exists
which is funny really because
I'm not really sure i exist
Which sounds funny
or maybe absurd
but I get to this awful point at night
when I'm alone, see, I think being alone is the trigger
where my vision is blurry
and clear
and I rock yet I don't move
am I typing?
or am I watching someone else type
or am I imagining someone else type
thinking
hoping
wishing
I too were alive
what
where
who
am I?
I'll listen to songs on repeat
I'll sway and
tune in and out
of the mood to sob
or to dance and scream
or to freeze, and be nothing
except whatever I am
or am not.
the air
grips my arms
or whoever owns these arms
and goosebumps are left in the ghost's wake
ROXANNE
you don't have to put on the red light
ROXANNE
you don't have to put on the red light
ROXANNE!
YOU DONT HAVE TO PUT ON THE RED LIGHT
ROXANNE!!
you
Don't
have
to
put
on
the
red­
light
ROXANNE
Ro
this is the song that I've been listening to for the past
well who even knows
I want to say hours
but the concept of time leaps around me carelessly.
I like the music, I like the sound of his voice
I like how it brings back childhood memories of singing it in my mother's car
though I only knew how to sing "Roxanne"
and honestly as long as I said it every other word
I was doing pretty good.
and
yeah
maybe it has something to do with me
something deep about who I was
and who I am now
comparing the differences
talking about what I'm mean to be, who knows.
it just
feels right
to listen to right now.
I'll get tired of it eventually.
i don't have the mindset to really be able to
explain why I love this so much.
I used to want something unique for my children
or at least something uniquely spelled
I wanted their future teachers to look at their names and say
"what the **** is this."
maybe it would single them out
but they'd be something entirely new, wouldn't they?
one of my best friends is having a baby girl
my friend and her husband are naming her Honor.
I used to want to name my girl
Hasel
like Hazel, but with an "S"
But I'm sure I'll use that name for ferrets
Haesel and Baesel
now I'm thinking I like the letter "R"
my biological dad won't like it
we all have to start with the letter J for him
maybe they'll have my last name
maybe that will be enough for him
so now I'm thinking
I want to name two of my children
Roxanne
Rhiannon
but I'll change the spelling
it just feels real pretty right now.
or maybe Jolene.
Sydney likes
Nala and Lydia
Nala Roxanne Collins for Sydney's last name(or Scott for mine)
Lydia Rhiannon Collins(or Scott)
or something along those lines.
those sound real pretty actually.
Am I typing still?
who am I?
i wish I could just go a day
without wanting to **** myself or
god
I'm so tired of feeling sad.
I'm thinking that this is sad
or numb
or somewhere in the middle.
I'm just
in and out right now
i think this hurts.
but I'm trying.
the existence of you should not strike fear into my still, beating heart
for you are not a product of the sins your brother's ****** hands carved,
yet, i cannot help, but recall the touch you and i miss, forced over my body and my mind, with the reminder of his suicide,
when i see your name;

and it may be that you feel his loss, once again,
or wish to forget how you solemnly shared with me,
in the halls where we cried until we were emptier,
and the edges of reality blurred into our tears,
with our shallow, shaky breaths,
that i was his closest confidant
when you see mine.
a secret letter
to the sister
of my late, best friend
who shared the title of my abuser

[ p.s: i'm sorry i struggle to keep in touch ]
Next page