soul; an archive of feelings, a vulnerable collection of eleven entries. an true archive of feelings. mysterie's first ever project.

these entries are very special and vulnerable, mysterie hopes to connect with fellow poets and poetry lovers with these entries.

the archives:
- i waited
- the way i used to
- the ocean knows me
- waiting
- i still care
- where the soul weeps
- tsunami
- begin again
- the book you left open
- dusk
- chosen

texts never sent, is nysterie's second ever project. consisting of five texts, going to either a crush, a friend, a parent, enemy or even her future self.. somehow.

these unsent texts reveal her true feelings on the situation and what she should've said in the moment, but never did.

https://textsneversent.straw.page << the project page

the texts:
- i just needed you to know
- drifting
- im still me
- not worth my voice
- one for the books

bombs
rain hopelessly from the sky
blood
forms pools around our best friends
pain
is all we can feel
so, we send them bombs back.

Wishful eternal sphere formed by emotion
Where shatters come together in love
A new day whispers promises of hope and dreams reborn
As cloudy purple skies dissipate against receding storms
New life blossoms into a new dawn.

i must hustle    cause i’m made of spoil
moist rice skin
            thinly incases  soft fluttering organs
mucus coated   elastic  chicken bones
                                          run throughout my parcel
they prop me      doe-ing before the lumy screen
     (the screen that volunteers us all)

emaciating into my work
      through this communal portal    i'll detonate my legend
    my spirit shall decant and dispel gladly
in the world remaining
    my cadaver will become acclimated
                        and re-meat the soil in an easy spill

         no longer alienated     my work will be    utter

I wonder how you are feeling exactly
If you miss taste of my lips
Say you care but I can't help but worry
To you I am just something broken to fix

You are the edge of the universe,
The boundaries of my existence,
A place where students love to converse,
But only from a distance.

I had to write a poem,
But I didn’t know what about.
My mind was at a tipping point,
So I settled upon a pout.

I lay on the soft green blobs,
As I pondered the task at hand.
My head began to throb,
for it felt like a bag of sand.




And in my hour of darkness,
I did not wince nor cry aloud.
For then I heard a harkness,
That pushed me off the ground.

My teacher said a sound,
That made my heart abound
“The stairs that lead to nowhere”

Now that is quite a title,
I chose to use it for my poem-
The words are the most vital.

You are the edge of the universe,
The boundaries of my existence,
A place where students love to converse,
But only from a distance.