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Eleni Aug 2019
As I sit here
I possess a seat
At a table
Many would
Understandably
Be scared of.

To spend time
With thyself
Unphased by
Tenors of busy engines
Against humming
Birdsongs in a grove.

From here
Space feels infinite
Not to the touch
But to the sight
That wanders from green
To blue hues in daylight.

Happily disconnected
Yet connected to
The very essence of
My existence
Which troubles
The modern mind.
Evangeline Aug 2019
I guess that at a certain period of life
You stop being you.
Uniquely, beautifully YOU.
Was it the cold, black coffee?
The sleepless nights?
The drugs you did?
The level of alcohol in your bloodstream?
Was it like grabbing the tail of the snake
  that turned to bite you?
But, you know, it's easier to wrestle the snake
  once the head has been cut off.
Treat your mind like a two-year-old, Child,
Or flower into darkness.
Stop hiding from the shadows.
Start living and
Start being you;
Uniquely, beautifully, unapologetically you.
Start taking care of your body,
( Your body is a temple, ancient and crumbling,
probably cursed and hunted,
but a temple nonetheless.)
Take your meds, hydrate, nourish the brain that powers you,
Did you eat enough?
Did you sleep enough?
Did you took the time this morning to
  look at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself
  everything is going to be okay?
Rise like smoke, Little One,
Burn with the strengths of a thousand suns.
alas, my time here is done

Ive spent too many dire hours

sitting here

getting drunkenly wasted

on cheap whiskey you labeled as your love

alas, I can make choices in sobriety

my distorted visions can soon be replaced with

fixated reality

alas, lone in my bed

I may heal the headache

and the heartache

of  the tasteful words,

the lips of the bottle had said.
Saudia R Aug 2019
Never again
will I define
beauty through your eyes

I've learned


mine are enough
Olive Aug 2019
Something has changed in me this week
Small and cynical but not so meek
A voice I once knew and thought was engrained
Turned out was a student that’s now fully trained
She no longer whispers her judgments and lies
While she sits at her desk now she actually tries
To get to know who I am instead of rejecting
And brushing me off with her constant correcting
Now I get to embrace the feeling of free
From hearing a voice that is finally me
Accepting myself takes truly getting to know myself, which takes dropping judgments, standards, comparisons, and asking who I am right now and how I can be true to myself.
Lyss Brianne Jul 2019
I am made of stardust—
every inch of my body was once a part
of the galaxy
and I need to start to remember that

How could I possibly hate the skin I’m in
when at one point people would look up at the stars
and marvel at my beauty

I am more than just bones
and muscle
and skin—
my lungs were plucked from the Milky Way
my hands once touched Saturn
and the love in my heart was a gift from the moon

If I continue to hate my body
then I am hating the universe that crafted me
with her own two hands—
how cruel to look at an artist
and scoff at the beauty they have created
fray narte Jul 2019
my nights have stopped becoming all about you.

they have stopped becoming about
voids that smell a little
like your perfume;
they have stopped becoming about
your eyes, and how they show clips
of you,
leaving.
they have stopped becoming about
broken clocks forever set to 11:11
wishing
for your return.

they have become about
a sea of black out poetries
and classic movies
my younger self
never dreamed of watching.
they have become about
songs I have never heard before.

1 ams have stopped becoming about
getting hit by
and chasing storms
named after you.
2 ams have stopped becoming
all about poems
written about you;
it’s about time
i write
about myself.
3 ams have stopped becoming
all about
shaking in pain
at the thought of
daylights worse than
midnights
and waking up as an empty shell.

they have become about
changing the color
of the sunsets and the rains,
and hugging silk pillows
and praying for strangers
a thousand miles away.

who can ever say
i’ll know what praying is like again?

my nights have stopped becoming all about you.

now, they’re all about
me,
and my growth,
and my happiness,
and my existential crises
if they insist on coming along.

so, leave, you’re long
overdue;
leave, you don’t belong here anymore.

my nights don’t belong
to you
anymore;

i don’t
belong
to you
anymore.
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