Sadness is as much
A part of our life
As happiness is and
this is the reason
I am writing now
For tomorrow who knows
I might barely
be able to stitch
The two parts together
With one mention
Of your name.
when you step into my space,
I hope these walls tell you about the animals that have clawed at my skin
I hope these walls tell you the stories of how i've earned each nicked mark; each jagged scar; each criss cross stitch
honesty is a language I am still trying to learn
I feel a heavy lodge in my throat whenever I speak it,
and that is enough to bring my truth to a record scratch stop.
but these walls
these walls, you see
vulnerability is their mother tongue
their verity bears no sharp edges
and as you journey across the wooden floors and listen to the creak of the stairs
you might hear ripples of laughter or wallowing cries
echoing through with reckless abandon
but do not scatter away
these walls are always in flux -
Shifting and Morphing and Evolving.
there are days when they will splinter and they will crack
there are days when they will stand high and they will stand firm
but one thing is for sure:
they will always be here
and so will I
we had to write a poem about interior design for our theory class HERE IT IS
My heart has a hole please help me repair it,
It feels like an abyss so black and so cold..
Don't panic don't threat I've a needle and thread,
Will just patch it up with a cloth patch instead..
Cross hatch the stitching so it never comes loose,
My boy you'll be good you could call it brand new..
I will kiss the sadness off your bones
Stroke your DNA and reshape it
Cradle your heart
I will stitch you back together
And love your scars
Show me your five closest friends and I will tell you, your past,
They hang like stiches to cover what life has taken from you,
You were born with eyes rotating 180’
Then the death started to walk on your back demons hunting you,
So you evolved upright, 90’ no look back.
We make friends based on what we need or what we have lost.
Show me your friends, show me your scars,
Now look at my friends, can’t you see I’m in pain.
there is no us anymore
i wish i could go back to the times
that us existed
but without u
us won’t exist
and without me
us will be broken
all smashed to million pieces
picking up those pieces
stitching them back
to the right places
hoping that they won’t leave a scar
hoping that it would look the same
hoping that u would come back
why do i have to stand
when i could fly
my feet are glued
to a ground set on fire
ive waited long enough
for my wings to grow
no matter how my hand shakes
i will grab each feather
try try try again to stitch together
day 4 for 31 days of poetry
Not even all the love in the world could stitch you back together the very same way again. I know that now. I know.
And maybe someday he will see it that way too.
Maybe someday he will see that we are all fighting our own personal battles, and sometimes those battles don't fit well together.
Sometimes our battles put together just create a whole new war.
Sometimes those wars aren't worth putting your boots back on for.
And sometimes it's the hardest thing, taking off your armor and giving up when you've been so used to constant day to day war cries and shrapnel.
To let chaos consume you, to wait for it to pass over, is paralyzing.
But all I know is you are tired, and you are too beautiful and wild to be kept down for long.
All I know is I want you to find your calm after the storm.
We are all stitches in the cloth
of the universe,
each a moment holding
the past & future together.
For without these
we would become frayed.
Undone not learning from one another.
But we are but one stitch among the
many colours that are
woven as far as the eye can see.
patches that collected together.
oh how silent are we
breath left to fog window screens
collapsing what we know
good over bad
who said that
meet me here
below your window
see mine blowing
we have orchestrated an symphony
and every kiss
listen for our lips
close your eyes
count to three
he closed his eyes
his lips felt
he heard art