Love isn’t perfect or flawless, it’s messy and real.
And honestly, that’s the beauty of it.
Love can be like coffee; bitter and denying you of rest.
Love can bring down your mood without the intention to,
And affect your emotions with every action of theirs.
It stays with you and drags you down but it also lifts you up.

Love is cruel. Love is a disease that is ridded through countless operations, with you as the doctor, and even then, love leaves a scar. A scar. A permanent reminder of your experience.
But... love is reckless. It's exciting. Love is an opportunity. Love is an adventure - and not the same adventure that you find walking in a new city... no... love is the sort of adventure you find when you open a book for the first time. Love is the feeling of hearing the song that for a small time, or a long time, you will call your favorite.

Love is as punishing as fire, and as deep as the ocean. Love well bruise, bend, and kick you while you're down. Love hurts, and love makes you stronger. But you know what's the most ironic thing about love? Through all the agony and pain it may put us through...

We need it.

I hate you.
I hate so many things about you i cannot recall a single word in my vocabulary that can even begin to grasp the amount of hatred i have for you.
I hate the way you walk. The way you talk. The way you dress I hate all of it. Why? Let me explain.

I hate the way you walk. The way your body sulks forward as if the entire world was on your shoulders and not a soul on this planet would lift even a finger to help carry your burdens.

I hate the way you talk. Not about others but about yourself. The way the pain in your words seems to seep out even as you try to mask it with the I'm alright or I'll be fine.

I hate the way you dress. How beautiful your clothes look on you. How every shade of green blue and red seem to be just enough to hide all the little bits of insecurity you harbour underneath. I hate how much time you put into shopping for clothes, thinking about how gorgeous the material is. The softness of the fabric. Thinking that while you wear such amazing, stunning clothing, the body beneath is will never be enough for anyone. Never be enough for you. I hate the way you dress because every piece of clothing you buy, you don’t buy to accent you. You buy it as armour to shield away your beautiful heart that you think is ugly.

I hate your eyes. The way every time I stare at them I see someone who's lost all hope. I hate the way you look into the world as if it was made of black and white. I hate that I have the unfortunate privilege to stare into the eyes of one so broken and so blind to the beauty that is you.

I hate your lips. I hate the way they seem to curve down at the edges, as if any semblance of happiness has been sucked out of your once beautiful shining lips. I hate how every time I look at them I'm reminded that your blind eyes don't realize that those lips are the missing puzzle piece to someone else's.

I hate your ears. Yes. Even your ears. I hate how every time someone speaks to you all you hear are your mistakes. I hate how your ears mangle and twist words of praise and love into indistinguishable words that amount to nothing more than babble or a language unbeknownst to you.

I hate your smile. I hate the way your teeth shine perfectly in the light but your eyes betray that smile as fake. I hate how your smile never conveys a true happiness. I hate how your smile though so beautiful at face value, has never comes from the bottom of your heart.

I hate your laugh I hate how even when you laugh, the forcefulness of your laugh is subtle, but to me its existence is as obvious as a red smudge on a white shirt. I hear it. Every time. You think nobody hears it, but i hear the pain in your laugh.

I hate your body. I hate the way your body curves. How every hair and every odd mark on your skin is suddenly a sin that needs to be atoned for. I hate how your body is so beautiful and perfect the way that it is, and I hate how even if you want to change it, you never find the courage to even though you're highly capable of it.

I hate your hands. I hate how when you look into your hands even if they may be small or big, you truly believe that nobody on this Earth would dare hold them. That somehow, someway you've contracted some sort of disease that has made your hands untouchable to anyone else. That just like your lips you truly believe nobody would dare lock their hands in yours.

I hate you. I hate how beautiful you are. I hate how you can't see it. I hate your loneliness. I hate how every day I need to watch as little bits of you float away and dissolve into nothing. I hate that I ultimately can't do anything for you to make you see any of this. I hate how all I can do is write this stupid poem at 3 17 in the morning and hope and pray that by some goddamn miracle maybe I can ignite some sort of light in your heart. That maybe for a second, just one second, you can look away from this poem and realize one color in your black and white world. Maybe you realize the blue of your wall. Maybe you realize the color of your skin. Maybe you realize the green of the grass outside.
Maybe you realize the small pond of blue in an endless horizon of grey clouds.

Maybe in the end I hate you so much because you hate yourself so much.
Maybe in the end I hate you so much because you don't believe

How much I love you.

Carly 2d

I think of going away (sometimes)

Can I think we all been there?

Deep in our thoughts & feels,
Lost down a lonely road,
Confused of direction,
Sentimental with nature,
Filled with want & need
Pained with, well everything.


I go but will always come back

From ___  to reality.

A solution won't always be there but hope for one and believe in yourself'! Trust yourself . Put yourself first. Love yourself(:

Hey
This is a talk with myself
That's long overdue
And I think it's very important for you to understand that
You're a piece of shit
I know you tried to stop degrading yourself
Because he doesn't like it
He actually sees something of you
But not even God himself
Would look at you
And see his child
Not that you cared much anyway

What's going on through that head of yours?
Has the deep dark ocean in your mind
Finally kick into your lungs?
Did you go looking into the dusty files
Hidden in plain sight again?
Have you yet again played
The scratched up record
Of the overheard conversations
Between your family members?
Repeats of "it's just a phase, it's just a phase, it's just a phase"
Playing out through your ear drums

I suppose I understand the everlasting sadness
That seems too hard to cover up
With just your liquid foundation
With just your bs smile
You wish someone could see past it, don't you?
You're waiting for someone to ask what is wrong with you, aren't you?
But in the way where they're actually concerned about your well being
Instead of being freaked out by it
You just want someone to hold you
And tell you everything is going to be okay, right?

I mean this with all sincerity
You need to stop being this pathetic
Because it might just run in the family
I can see your child self locked up
Gripping the bars
Shaking them and screaming
For someone to set them free
I know you want to be happy

This path you're taking though..
Full of smoke, drinks, and attempts that no one knew about
Is not the way to go
This isn't the way we have to go
This talk was so long overdue
And the biggest message to you
Is that we can be better than this.
Why have we failed to realize it?

i have a lot of trouble trying to love myself, and this poem really shows it.
Crimsyy 3d
Six

I'm currently evacuating,
currently changing,
no longer lingering
in lullaby-scented halls
and too big shoes.

The walls have changed, you see,
coated in posters of
people I try to be
but the walls know my
real estate, my anxious being.

They know my exterior
is scared to invite you in,
because not everyone can handle
the mess within.

They know on the inside,
I'm dripping blood, ink,
my mind, like an overflowing sink,
saturated with love,
sunset pink.

Dhaara T 4d

Let no one tell you, what you can do
Only your voice, let your head and heart listen to
Vacate your mind of conditioning, every single day
Ease your soul of that big heap of dismay
You alone, can make or break your life
Out of nothing, you can make everything; now give up the strife
Urge yourself, pick yourself up; be your own hero
Raise the bar, don't settle; aspire and you will grow
Seek what you desire, c'mon now, get aggressive
Else you'll be stuck with a life others will make you live
Love yourself, don't you? Don't let them murder your soul
Fight for your right to be yourself, to turn you from half to whole

A lot of Indian girls (I'm not sure if this happens in your country too, I'm guessing it would in a primarily conservative society) often have to grow up hearing things like, "We'll get you married, and then you can do what you want", when we express the want to do something that is "not allowed" in our family. This does not restrict to life's bigger decisions like having kids of our own or adopting kids, or even bringing home a pet, but also to the smaller ones like, getting a tattoo or buying and riding a bike of your own, or even painting your room. There is a general lack of respect for individuality and in the process, a lot of us (actually, this one sentence includes our men too) are living a life that we cannot truly call our own. We aren't being ourselves. We are living a lie. Most of us (women), get married only because it's a passport to our freedom, without upsetting our parents. I wish Indian parents stopped looking for happiness in seeing their children "settled", because "settling" with (for) someone is the most unsettling thing one can do to themselves and to that person. Of course, for those who marry for love, I'm the happiest for them! Those who choose not to marry, I'm happy for them too. At least you people aren't doing anything under a compulsion. That's awesome! :) Those who feel like surrendering, it may seem like the easy road to take, but don't take it unless YOU want to, please, for your own sake.
Xx
Dhaara T

Today, I affirm
and vow to penetrate loving warmth into the years of silenced pain and anxiety underneath
To create a safe place, a haven
of self love,
to come home to.

Little Azaleah Jan 2015

My room.
Filled with things that I adore.
Captured memories within frames.
Books filled with many lives I've lived,
and still yet to born.
The closed boxes in the corners, in the dark, (trying to be) forgotten
Of memories I can't fathom.

My room, my sanctuary.
Where the facade breaks.
Where tears falls freely.
Where I lie bare.
Free from lies and expectations.
With the wish of a love that is honest.


{ E.I }

Crimsyy 4d

You make me wish
I couldn't care less,
you make my soul
want to fight my mind,
you make me wish
my heart was carved
out of indifference, passivity.
You make me wish
my thoughts were
filled with apathy, not empathy,
you make me wish
I was subtle, not bold.
And you make me question
if being intertwined is equal
to being free,
if human warmth is equal
to a smile,
if your body next to mine
is equal to happiness.
But the truth is,
I am filled with care from head to toe;
I care about poetry,
and sunsets, and stars
and all the little things you overlook
because you think they'll last forever.
But I'm perfectly fine,
just like that.

Abby 4d

you asked me
who would care
if
you killed yourself.

you
think
that
nobody
would
except
for
me
and maybe
your family.

okay.

but if
you did kill yourself,
i would
be
very
angry
with you.

i would tear
your note for me
to shreds,
because
i
know
that if you wrote me one,
it'd be decorated
with doodles
and calligraphy
and the very essence
of the sunshine
that was your smile.

i would not
deliver
a eulogy.
if i did,
it'd include phrases
like
"she tried"
and
"i don't know what to tell you,
the universe ripped us apart
again"
and i don't think
your family would like that
very much.

i would not
help write
an obituary.

i would not
do anything
but sit there,
disappointed
that the clouds in the sky
and the stars
and all the magic spells
never stepped in to do anything,

that all your hard work
didn't work.

that the chemicals
in your brain
ran muddy.

and honestly,
i would leave.

i would leave to a country
with minty skies
and
forested floors
trying to discover something
as beautiful and unique
as you are.

i would never find it.

all the heat of the sun
couldn't melt away
the rigidity
of my expression

and even pouring rain
cannot regrow a lost soul
from the soil.

and all the people who thought
it was
tragically romantic
can have a taste
of my fist.

~you deserve to be described with beauty. the concept of suicide doesn't.
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