#31poemsforaugust
#31 | 31 Poems for August
(Written with Naledi Tshikota)
Write me a sonnet, point dozens of Cupid’s arrows to my heart if you dare to awaken it.
Tune into your inner Shakespeare, fantasize us as Bonnie and Clyde if you care to spend time in it.
Recreate the Titanic, recreate it with the ending of The Notebook if you can bear to believe in it.
And if that doesn’t work, cast me to sleep like the Romeo you are and let me awake next to your lifeless flesh and dagger as I pierce my soul with it.
Write me a sonnet, let every single one of those fourteen lines bleed with emotion.
Leave The Notebook next to my notebook and become the protagonist of my dreams.
Think like the wind and attain the kind of power that’ll allow you to blow me away on any given day.
Your presence keeps transforming our thoughts into beautiful poetic paintings, Basquiat and Picasso would’ve been proud.
Write me a sonnet, silence every impurity that does awaken my love.
Summon the essence of my soul for the taking of your unforsaken hands and make Mona Lisa cry sacred tears of joy.
Create simplistic glimpses that only our superior beings can understand, only then can I unleash my undying emotion towards your uncontested universe.
Write me a sonnet, the kind that will make me realise that your heart isn’t filled with any doubt.
The day I realised that words could touch you, I wanted to become a poem.
The kind of poem that Maya Angelou’s ink always dreamt about.
The taste of your smile still lingers on the edges of my lips.
I see galaxies in your eyes, it must be in the way I love you like I do.
I could’ve settled for less but I don’t want anyone else but you.
Write me a sonnet that speaks to the heart of my mind.
Because I always hear your heartbeat when I think about you.
Write me a sonnet that intertwines our inner intuitions.
A sonnet that makes you believe in shooting stars if you’re into wishing.
And finally that captures the very essence of the unknown soul that’s unspoken of.
Because it’s within your golden silence that I hear the loudest cry.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
#30 | 31 Poems for August
I set myself on fire just to keep you warm.
You should see my third-degree burns.
I was taught to never play with matches but I guess I’ll never learn.
You stand there with no sense of panic and watch me as I slowly burn.
Ascending to new heights and I still want to take you higher.
Burnt every flower in the garden of my heart and you’re still fuelled with a burning desire.
All that I needed was the kind of love that I mysteriously couldn’t find.
I’m the boy who didn’t give up on love and you’re the girl who stopped learning to love again.
For some odd reason, you enjoy watching me going through relentless pain.
With your kerosene hands you ignite every single thing you touch.
All I wanted you to do was love me, I wasn’t really asking for much.
Every time I say your name, I feel a burning sensation at the back of my throat.
Swimming in an ocean of kerosene with no signs of a lifeboat.
I keep thinking about how loving you is complicated while I try to stay afloat.
I’m the boy who taught himself how to love through the pain.
I thought that your love and laughter could keep me sane.
You constantly scorch my skin with your burning love.
I set myself on fire just to keep you warm.
You should see my third-degree burns.
I was taught to stay away from fire but I guess I’ll never learn.
You stand there and watch me as I slowly burn.
Slowly burning, now here comes the smoke.
But a phoenix will always rise from the ashes.
A phoenix will always rise.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 10:51 AM UTC
#29 | 31 Poems for August
I need conversations filled with laughter followed by bursts of love after.
The last time I tried to recite this poem to you, I couldn’t get the words out.
I somehow couldn’t get the words right.
Slow-paced piano music gently echoes in the background.
The notes keep echoing while I try to patiently pen this down.
I am convinced, that the sun came out just to impersonate the warmth of your aura.
I’ve kept your fingerprints pressed between the pages of my favourite author’s book.
Somewhere between the prologue and chapter five.
Where the protagonist almost died but luckily stayed alive.
I wanted to become a poem, the day I realised that words could hold you, have you, touch you.
You are the stars that my night sky longs to hold.
You and I are meant to be.
Your love and laughter have liberated me.
I want to heal your wounds while carefully embracing your scars.
I know you feel broken, so let me kiss you where it hurts.
I’ll arrive to the other parts of your alluring anatomy, eventually.
Let me breathe life into you.
Let me prove to you that ecstasy is something we all need to go through.
Poetry rests on the curves of your lips, so how can I not love the meaningful things you always say?
My eyes will recite to you the poetry that is written on the pages of my heart.
I need conversations filled with laughter followed by bursts of love after.
To write about you is to keep your presence alive within the unseen parts of me.
You are the reason why my heart feels free.
Your love and laughter have liberated me.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
#28 | 31 Poems for August
I’m slowly falling apart, but all I can think about, is holding the pieces of your broken heart together.
You are the rain I keep dancing in and I see no use in being under an umbrella.
I’ve somehow forgotten the lyrics of my favourite love song.
Slowly sing with me and help me remember.
All I want to do is help you appreciate love’s panoramic view.
All I want to do is know you better and move closer to you.
There are millions of poems and words, but none can explain my love for you.
Give me something that I can hold on to.
Give me something that cannot be defined.
Help me build up my faith when I’ve lost the spirit to believe.
Provide my lungs with sufficient air to breathe.
Show me the pictures of you that haven’t been Instagram-filtered or tainted with Photoshop.
Teach me how to slow dance to the rhythm of your heartbeat.
I’m less interested in seeing you “dropping it like it’s hot” or showing me all the bad things that you’re not.
Let me be more than just words for you.
Let me be more than just hands that long to embrace you.
Let me be someone you can relate to.
Someone your family and friends would love to be introduced to.
Someone who can find the hidden words in your silence.
Let me be the peace that heals your wounds of violence.
Let me be the piece that completes your complex puzzle.
You are everything to me.
If only you could realise that, if only you could see.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
#27 | 31 Poems for August
My hands will always long for the company of yours.
I’ve been hopelessly walking around with a broken heart.
Yesterday I felt like crying but surprisingly nothing came out.
I patiently put my pain on paper to let you know what I am all about.
I write to write, yet the emptiness remains.
All that I’m left with is a broken heart and black ink stains.
Walk steadily and try by all means to maintain your centre of gravity.
I’m forever drunk on love while you’re still living off its depravity.
I’m not always this quiet, my mind is as loud as a riot.
People stop and stare, their expressions prove that they don’t care.
I love hard like I’ve never ever been acquainted with heartbreak.
I’m on the pursuit of happiness but I’m currently running low on love.
Hold me like a conversation, hold me and don’t ever let me go.
But if you ever feel like giving up and letting go then let me know.
Overdosed on morphine just so I could morph in.
Except I use other drugs just to numb the pain.
Searching for my rainbow so allow me to dance in the rain.
On some days it gets worse, this sickness is a curse.
I think you know it, I think everyone knows it now.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
#26 | 31 Poems for August
I am a blank page, craving for your ink to bleed onto me.
Your thoughts and secrets are safe with me.
Chain yourself to the idea of freedom and slowly begin to liberate me.
Metaphors and similes hit the page at extremely high velocities.
People should often see your pen in motion, you write your poems differently.
It’s fascinating how you create poetry out of silence.
I’ve felt you, seen you give life to things like love, pain, peace and violence.
As soon as inspiration ignites, you gradually begin to write late in the peaceful hours of the night.
Everyone knows that your words and verses tend to excite.
The day your muse realised that words could touch her, she wanted to become a poem.
The type of poem that Maya Angelou’s ink always dreamt about.
Keep respecting your craft, make it more constructive.
Live life and regret nothing, be completely destructive.
You have spent endless nights, hopelessly staring into the void that you are constantly trying to avoid.
Your mind is constantly being filled up with possible poems, people should really see your pen in motion.
You are the Michelangelo of flow, you paint pictures with your poems.
You are the countless calm moments after months and years of violence.
It’s fascinating how you effortlessly create poetry out of silence.
People should see your pen in motion, you write your poems differently.
But I wish you took more time to write.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
#25 | 31 Poems for August
I will continue writing your name onto the sky until the stars embody your beauty.
I want to be the half that makes you whole.
I want to be the poem written on the pages of your soul.
I am addicted to the ink that flows inside your veins.
Drench your heart in ink then pour yourself on a page and become my poem.
A poem that describes your heart’s complexities and desires.
A poem that patiently awaits to be recited.
A poem that exists inside the poet.
A poem that eventually becomes the poet.
I hope my presence will awaken every single poem that gently lays inside you.
What use is my poetry when I cannot recite it to you?
What good is my love when I cannot share it with you?
You are the one song I keep listening to every single day and night.
You are the poem I never knew how to write.
Your love is the story that I have always wanted to tell the world.
I have captured your smile in the lines of this poem.
I want you to be the poem that keeps writing itself on the pages of my soul.
I want you to be the poem that makes me whole.
Plant roses in my heart and promise me you’ll be there when they blossom.
I will continue writing your name onto the sky until the stars embody your beauty.
I will continue writing about you.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
#24 | 31 Poems for August
I need a sky to read from and a star to write on.
Traded in graffiti spray cans for poetry and a microphone.
People are often left in awe when they see me in my zone.
Ever since high school, I’ve been lost in the world and I often wonder if I’ll ever make it on my own.
I want to write my poems on the sun so that you can feel the magnitude of my love when it shines.
I’m from the city where jacaranda trees light up the streets with their purple blooms.
I want my words to heal the wounds that never heal but always bleed.
My kind of love is kinetic, never stationary.
I’ve been blinded by love but still I remain visionary.
I want a sky to read from and a star to write on.
I want the splendour of God’s grandeur embedded into every one of my lines.
I could write poetry forever with the inspiration that life provides.
Maybe I could write you a haiku or two.
My mind has been thinking about you.
My heart has been asking about the pulchritude that is you.
You are the unforgettable muse.
I still marvel at how God’s love consists entirely of summer, autumn, winter and spring.
It can never escape me even when the seasons change.
Maybe I should write you a love poem or two.
My heart beats only for you.
I wrote my poems on the sun, you’ll eventually feel my love every time it rises.
I’m from the city where jacaranda trees light up the streets with their purple blooms.
I need a sky to read from and a star to write on.
Traded in graffiti spray cans for poetry and a microphone.
People are often left in awe when they see me in my zone.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
#23 | 31 Poems for August
They laughed and criticized at my starry eyes.
But suddenly stopped when I rose like the morning sun.
So now I humbly thank God for all that He has done.
In a world burdened and ravaged by wars that seem to go on for forever.
I try to find peace inside myself and pray to become someone better.
I’m responsible for my own peace.
But He protects me in the battles I fight on my knees.
The figures of speech I use may often remain unappreciated.
The words I speak may often remain unheard.
The poems I write may often remain unread.
But the beauty of God’s grandeur will never go unnoticed.
You can see it in my starry eyes.
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
#22 | 31 Poems for August
You’ve got your hand comfortably placed in mine.
A few minutes ago I was placing kisses down your spine.
Who gave you curves like those and said that you could keep them?
You know how it goes, the thicker the better.
But don’t get too complacent, I’m still drawn to your grey matter.
It’s evident that you’re more about bass than treble.
This is all new to me, I’ve never been on this level.
Let’s become a poem that Pretoria can always snap its fingers to.
But if that doesn’t work out then we’ll travel to Venice, Paris or Moscow.
Maybe even Florence, Rome or Vienna, anywhere you want to go.
When you finally make up your mind then love let me know.
Your fascinating thoughts always inspire the movement of my flow.
It’s within your simplicity where I discovered how beautifully complex you are.
In a sky full of constellations, you are my favourite star.
Don’t leave me behind, I just want you to gently place your hand in mine.
Don’t leave me behind, you’re the one I’ve been patiently waiting to find.
No matter what happens don’t ever let your hand slip out of mine.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
#21 | 31 Poems for August
Write to write, write to save your life.
The loved ones who’ve passed on, who’ll tell their story but you?
I’ve felt the sincerity of your words from Ostracized to August Blue.
Write to save your sanity, write for the sake of clarity.
Write until there’s nothing left for you to write.
Write away all the burdens of an untold story.
Write the world into a new existence whether it’s grimy or gory.
Write apologies in the form of love letters for all the times you couldn’t say sorry.
People should often see your pen in motion, you write your poems differently.
You pour your heart and soul into all these words and you bleed so effortlessly.
Many people still haven’t realized that you’re not always this quiet.
I’m intrigued by how your mind is as loud and busy as a protest march or riot.
It’s fascinating how you effortlessly create poetry out of silence.
You are so incredibly good with words, people still wonder what your hands can do.
Write to save your sanity, write for the sake of clarity.
Write to write, write to save your life.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
#20 | 31 Poems for August
The stars urged me to write something about you.
The stars urged me to write a poem as beautiful as you.
I’ve got ink stains on my fingers and happiness overflowing in my heart.
I’ll have no need for poetry when embracing your body becomes my art.
The weather hasn’t been the same ever since the sun decided to impersonate the warmth of your aura.
Now I spend most of my time basking in the warmth of your presence.
I still cannot control nor explain loving you the way I do.
This love will carry us into the future no matter what we go through.
In a sky full of constellations, you’ll always be my favourite star.
It’s within your simplicity where I discovered how beautifully complex you are.
I’ve kept your fingerprints pressed between the pages of my favourite book.
Somewhere between the prologue and chapter five.
The day you re-introduced me to love my soul came alive.
The world is beautiful but it’s nothing without you.
It’s amazing how you love me the way you do.
In a sky full of constellations, you’ll always be my favourite star.
The pages of my heart are saturated with words describing how phenomenal you are.
I could write poetry forever with the inspiration our chemistry provides.
Young muse, these words have all been written for you.
Only you.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
#19 | 31 Poems for August
The light in her hazel-brown eyes is the kind that gets people mesmerized.
I’ve fallen deeply for the words from a lady who creates love with a simple touch of a pen.
She made me realise that true beauty starts from within.
She is my muse, my friend, my lover.
She is my inspiration and for that I love her.
Life tastes better on the curves and edges of her lips.
Her love is the scripture that my heart believes in.
Her love is never enough; I’m always left yearning for more.
In a world ravaged by cold wars, we both know what we’re fighting for.
Nobody should ever come between us because there will be war.
I want to be the unforgettable poem written on the pages of her soul.
I want to be the poem that will always make her heart warm and whole.
No one’s perfect but she’s perfect for me.
Her love is the scripture that my heart believes in.
I want to escape from the cold, I want to nestle myself deep inside her soul.
The light in her hazel-brown eyes breaks through the darkest of clouds that always seem to surround me.
The light in her hazel-brown eyes has me mesmerized.
I could write poetry forever with the inspiration our love provides.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
#18 | 31 Poems for August
When you listen to my poetry, my heartbeat should be playing in the background.
A poem buried in the pages of a book that lays on the shelves of the library found in my heart awaits to be recited again.
Forgive me for all the shades of poetry I cannot be.
Euclidean geometry cannot fathom the lines in my book of rhymes.
I’ll be your faith just so you can move mountains.
I’ll be your river just so you can walk on water.
I’ve been craving for more intellectual conversations ever since I met you.
I discovered the beauty of the world because of you.
I find liberty in the presence of you.
I find liberty in all the simple things that you do.
I feel the warmth of your presence in all the broken parts of me I thought no longer existed.
Your beauty is saturated with a language that I wish to learn.
You fill my empty pages with your words.
Words that will create an anthology that we will write together.
I find liberty in the beauty that is you.
I find liberty in all the simple things that you do.
I want to be the unforgettable poem written on the pages of your soul.
I want to be the unforgettable poem that will always make your heart warm and whole.
The world will read the pages of my soul, but my poetry will always belong to you.
My poetry will always belong to you, only you.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
#17 | 31 Poems for August
I set myself on fire just to keep you warm.
You should see my third-degree burns.
I crave for your touch even though I have never truly experienced it in its entirety.
I wasn’t asking for much all I wanted to do was love you.
But you were fuelled with a desire to set my heart on fire.
I was looking for love, and I was hoping that I would find it in you.
Drench me in an ocean of kerosene and watch me burn as I sail away.
It doesn’t matter whether you use matches or a lighter.
Set me on fire because a future without you won’t be any brighter.
My mind is uncertain about your intentions but you’re still the one that I desire.
I long for your burning love and warm embrace.
I just wish that you longed for the very same love too.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
#15 | 31 Poems for August
I’m slowly progressing but progressing nonetheless.
The worst thing I could do is give up on myself.
The worst thing I did this week was give up on myself.
Sometimes dreams delayed feel like dreams denied.
If you asked how I’m holding up and I responded by saying “I’m okay” then chances are I probably just lied.
Everyone’s caught up in their own world, if you don’t see me tomorrow then know that I tried.
I’m sorry I don’t want to bother or burden anyone with my problems.
I know you’ve never seen me cry but I can no longer hide all that I’m feeling inside.
Some people suffer in silence because of self-importance and a little bit of pride.
But that’s not me, I put my heart on paper and I let it all bleed.
But lately I’ve come to realise that not everyone likes to read.
So I ask myself, who am I writing all these resplendent poems to?
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
#13 | 31 Poems for August
Love me unconditionally, across cities, over skyscrapers, beyond the depths of time.
Serenade me with your glassy hazel-brown eyes.
If my love is like the sky, then sit under it and try to remember me.
Try to remember me, then look up and write all the observations that you see.
Love me unconditionally.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
#12 | 31 Poems for August
I prayed to God and humbly thanked Him for your existence.
Even though I barely say much, I know He’s always listening.
No matter what you say or do, I’ll always remain in love with you.
All I want to do is show you the world’s panoramic view.
I’ve been blessed with the chance to love you.
I guess dreams do really come true.
Love, I’m bad at this beautiful thing people call love.
Listen, your complexion is truly a blessing.
I want the beauty of God manifested in all we do.
I’m fighting for our love, I wish you would too.
I’m fighting for our love, I can’t do this all alone.
I’m still learning how to love, I can’t do this on my own.
No matter what you say or do, I’ll always remain in love with you.
All I want to do is show you the world’s panoramic view.
I have gradually let my guard down for you.
In due time I hope you’ll do the same too.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
#11 | 31 Poems for August
Beauty never goes out of style.
I wanted to become a photographer the day I first saw you smile.
Cliché, you’ve probably heard that before.
A lot of guys probably said that to you one hundred times.
But this is a hundred and one, and it’s not saturated with lies.
I come as I am, no facades or any form of disguise.
What’s the possibility of you conversing with me for a while?
I wonder what it’s like to be the words that roll off your tongue so effortlessly.
It’s like poetry rests on the curves and edges of your lips.
Gravitate towards me as I embrace your curves and I begin to accentuate.
Fashion comes and goes but beauty can never go out of style.
I was intrigued by your presence the moment I first saw you smile.
Maybe this moment will turn into something that will always give you a reason to smile.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
#10 | 31 Poems for August
What’s a painter left to do when his muse is missing?
The paint doesn’t stick to the canvas like it’s supposed to.
Today he was cut deep by all the harsh words she said.
He never understood all the ludicrous games she played.
So far gone, she left with the forest that’s why he’s barely breathing.
He wanted to see her happy but couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving.
It didn’t matter how he felt, she was bound to leave anyway.
It didn’t matter what he did, she was bound to leave on any day.
What’s a painter left to do when his muse is missing?
The paint doesn’t stick to the canvas like it usually does.
Maybe they were never meant to say goodbye.
Maybe if she didn’t leave, they’d still give love another try.
He never knew how toxic she was until he got to breathe in fresh air.
He never thought such heartbreak was something that could occur to him.
The grass is greener on his side but today it needed a trim.
The world is his canvas and she will always be his muse.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
#9 | 31 Poems for August
I can never visualise God without the pulchritude that is you.
Nothing compares to the love that you give out to the world.
No matter the train of thought, it all leads to you.
We meet in the pages of our story where the ink holds us together.
As I write, these words become intertwined in the veins of loving hearts.
In the rain of your presence, my words always form a rainbow.
Forever overflowing, God’s love will never run out on you.
Confidence, happiness and love look absolutely good on you.
With such pulchritude, who wouldn’t believe in God?
This is for the women who taught me how to embrace God’s love.
Ever since that day, my demons questioned the value of their existence.
This is for the women who don’t seek the world’s acceptance and validation.
This is for the women of a different status, 31 to be exact.
This is for the women who know the true value of trust, the ones that always have each other’s backs.
To the women who are phenomenal in every single way.
To the women who eat, live, breed, give and sweat love; this is dedicated to you.
This is written for you, and to all the women who are still trying to find themselves this is for you too.
Every woman is phenomenal in every single way.
Every woman should have poetry written about her.
Every woman with a soul like a library deserves a chance to fall in love with a world that loves reading books.
Every woman is God’s resplendent work of art.
Every woman is beautiful.
“There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty.” - Steve Maraboli
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
#8 | 31 Poems for August
When I’m flooded with echoes of silence, my actions will slowly begin to speak.
Sometimes I cannot explain how you constantly have me feeling weak.
Loving you is a feeling I cannot control or put into any form of speech.
You’re always on my mind whether you’re by my side or not.
Nothing is more beautiful than the love that lies within.
Nothing is more beautiful than the poetry my hands have written on your skin.
Nothing is more beautiful than touching you, kissing you and loving you.
I cannot control nor explain loving you the way I do.
Distance and time will never dissipate our memories, I will always want to be next to you.
Know that this love will carry us into the future no matter what we go through.
Nothing is more beautiful than the love that lies within.
Nothing is more beautiful than the poetry my hands have written on your skin.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
#7 | 31 Poems for August
I haven’t been answering any of your texts or calls.
I needed some time alone, I know it has been a while.
It has been a while since you’ve heard me laugh or seen me smile.
I’m a mess, lately I’ve been feeling really stressed and depressed.
The things I’m holding back are things that need to be expressed.
I’m a mess, I need to get all this pain off my chest.
I don’t know who to run to or who to run from.
Or if I should be running at all.
If I’m willing to talk, will you listen like you always do?
We take life for granted knowing very well that tomorrow is not guaranteed.
I’m praying and hoping that someday I’ll be someone that they need.
I write to write, put the pen to paper and then I let it all bleed.
I never believed in people like you before but that was until I met you.
Vibe with me, pour a glass of wine and spend some time with me.
I promise that you’ll get blown away like autumn leaves on a windy street.
Breathe, breathe and listen to the echoes of your heartbeat.
That’s what it feels like to be free.
That’s what it feels like to vibe with me.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
#6 | 31 Poems for August
Dark and cold inside.
I need a warm place to reside.
These battle scars will gradually inflict pain when they heal too.
I’ve embraced how deep my wounds are.
My confidence proves that I’ve embraced each scar.
I yearn for the type of love that leaves no room for doubt.
I yearn for a reality worth dreaming about.
Maybe one day happiness will be more than just words on a page.
I have lost love.
But I haven’t lost all the beautiful words I have to write about love.
My heart produces thoughts that my mind could never understand.
Maybe love is the beautiful art of enigma.
Patiently waiting for pain to dissipate.
Patiently waiting for love to dominate.
Pain patiently tears me up inside.
It haunts me wherever I choose to hide.
I yearn for the type of love that leaves no room for doubt.
Maybe one day happiness will be more than just words on a page.
Hopefully I will be okay when blue skies fade to grey.
Hopefully I will be okay when people no longer listen to what I have to say.
I want to escape from the cold.
I want to nestle myself deep inside your soul.
Be the half that makes me whole.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
#5 | 31 Poems for August
You don’t know who to run to, who to run from or if you should be running at all.
You don’t seem like your usual self, is there anyone that I could call?
Love, the media is not a true standard of beauty.
I wish you would stop measuring yourself according to their scale.
You’re still beautiful, it’s just that their perspective has changed.
You’re ashamed of the bitter woman you almost became.
They taught you how to succumb to the pain and shame.
They taught you how to hate every bit of yourself.
Made you believe that you’d look and feel better if you conformed to the absurd standards of someone else.
They should’ve taught you that the presence of another woman’s beauty is not the absence of your own.
Embrace your crooked smile and all your perfect imperfections.
Stop seeking validation and start loving yourself unconditionally.
Never let the world turn your starry sky into a ceiling.
Wear your crown proudly and embrace the queen that you are.
In a sky full of constellations, you’ll always be someone’s favourite star.
You are ashamed of the bitter woman you almost became.
They taught you how to succumb to the pain and shame.
You are still beautiful, it’s just that their perspective has changed.
No matter what the media says you will always remain beautiful to me.
Always.
“Self-love angers people who hate themselves and she understood that at length.” – Flex Boogie
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC