#herself
for AV
the irony noticed asap, but the poem notion irritant
was too nouveau, had to ripen~fester before it plucked
sufficiently at my unconscious with Now! I am ready for
a vine ripe picking, un beau joulais
this fascination about, how we self-categorize,
our wisdoming perspectives when looking up, or
looking down, trying to grow, and not to drown, as the
new advances come at us as fast as a new memory chip,
faster than our logged but fading Ancien Régime
memories disappear, the definition of ancient, is me,
and yours, will be additive, grow as you witness changes that
me and the grave will happily successfully avoid
perspective is a two way continuum, just please
keep on being an almost ready red tomato,
still absorbing sun and knowledge like the fields
of sunflowers of Provence, between Carpentras and Avignon…
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 9:07 AM UTC
she was reticent, but never refused her vulnerability.
she's often complained for her uncontrolled emotions, so she learned how to keep them zipped.
mostly, they'll say her favorite color was purple—but the little in her would've probably adored pink the most.
she learned by herself, but most of the time—she lacked. maybe it was confusion, or maybe most of the time she only had herself to teach.
her walls are built with pride. nobody has ever been inside those walls.
as time passes by, it's height just grew taller.
an enigmatic person she is.
a secretly ****** one. yet—she looks innocent with those eyes. just a glimpse under those smiles.
some often say her eyes are just like a puppy. soft and glossy.
thus, if you'll look at her eyes just a little bit longer—you'll see the shadow that hides.
she doesn't even like people, but she's too softhearted. often way too quiet, and doesn't even laugh easily.
her lips are said to be strawberry flavored. glimmering with her eyes is her hair that dances.
she's too soft, too quiet. but once touch with anger—she burns.
And so, I was said I had the patience, cause I've learned. to be the one who hides. always acting confused, but knows too well. I rather be misread, than show my burning heart. I wouldn't be too miss too, even if I fall apart.
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 11:45 AM UTC
i have no apologies to say nor forgiveness to give.
i own my own world around me as if I'm the only soul that has an existence.
altogether with guilt and resentment.
i have aged with a bruise in my heart—but I'm still contaminated with love.
from sickness of words,
this eyes on me are still intact as if it didn't cried blood.
the violence that shouted in a specialized language,
i would be it's irretrievable target.
it's not the hands that choked me, it's the words that turned my world upside down.
i have been sick of accepting and expecting,
the world in my mind is completely different from what I have in reality.
i could be pure in a minute,
but then I'll turn around and won't look back.
the little in me thinks she's too big to handle,
that's why she changed her belief in what it is supposed to be.
i do not know—if it's my mind that ***** me up, or if it's my ****** words that shuts me up.
nevertheless, I don't even understand myself in a language that I speak.
i don't know why I keep craving for tenderness, when all my life I've only seen the insanity.
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 11:43 AM UTC
remedies is not only for something we can't pass
remedies is for everything that has broken
or just to re-new something
-
she learns something from her life, everyday
but she never had a chance to write those down
it's not a scam when she said her favorite things to do are reading & writing or writing & reading
reading a poem or her self-diary
writing a poem or a self-diary
she doesn't know if is a gifts
or just a hobby
because everytime she finished wrote all her poems, she re-read it, and she thought all eyes those read her words can write it too (with their own version(s))
in this, not-so, new day(s)
herself will embarks to write all the tales where she's involved in
as long as she living her life
this era is the lowest point in her life
she doesn't know if it actually is, or it's just she made it all low
she can't even say a word to herself
she can't even write what's in her head
she can't even tell anyone when she really needs a person to talk
all are just mixed up in her little head
she doesn't know if it is something like "manifesting" or what
all she knows that she can't figure it out yet
is it something related to science? like human mind?
is it something related to religions? like human relations with The Creator?
but one from many answers for the solutions (based on her own researches) is self-improvement
she is pretty sure that is something wrong inside herself
something to be fixed
something that needs remedy
but her body & mind are not so sure what is that (or what are those)
her body & mind are still figuring out
it's not finished yet
it is still figuring how it needs to be stopped
it is still progressing
'it' is this story, her story, my story
..
Jan 9, 2023
Jan 9, 2023 at 7:20 AM UTC
To tell her she is oppressed,
They try assaulting her for the way she is dressed
To command being served,
They try ****** her for the way she was curved
They're the classless that spit upon her key, her name,
For not inviting them freely into her house. What a shame.
Their violation forced humanity to live early life in a tomb,
Unaffected, she carries on, as she carries the world in her womb
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 4:30 PM UTC
Her genre,
Honorable.
Her design,
Respected.
Her character,
Dignified.
Her pages,
Well lettered.
Her story,
Unread.
Like a book, mesmerising,
Yet too often judged by her cover.
Jun 9, 2021
Jun 9, 2021 at 12:45 PM UTC
Slowly
she began to fall
down the rabbit hole
learning about herself
and what she
believed in
it wasn't so bad there
that was when
she decided to stay
just a little longer
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 3:00 PM UTC
At night time
that was when
she was truly
alone
with herself
listening to her thoughts
drowning in her thoughts
at night time
no one was watching
no one was there
to protect her
from her thoughts
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 2:44 AM UTC
She was learning
to choose herself
to love herself
and to take care
of herself
But it did not
come easily
she wanted to
loose herself
in herself
and love herself
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 7:49 PM UTC
Frequently
she forgot about herself
the things she needed
barely even occurred to her
Instead of herself
she remembered
for other people
and there needs
it's as if
she didn't matter to herself
at all
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 7:34 PM UTC
she swallowed her sadness
she told herself
that it was her fault
so why was she sad
it was her own doing
so why was she sad
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 7:38 PM UTC
#*you know that I’m badly drawn
using words and lingerie for clothes
I'm shrapnel herself
a sharing other
a changing Rapunzel
untwisting anything I use
stream me through empty people
by tenfold—and all ablaze back to you*#
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 11:48 AM UTC
She is the sunshine
Between the mountains
She is the calm
Before the storm
She is the cloud
On a rainy day
She is the dream
in your reality
She is
who she is
and not
everyone understands
that
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 1:54 PM UTC
first I smell myself.
the deep bass tonality of my musk,
hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy,
my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin
emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing,
under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings
then I smell herself.
sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait,
scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned,
some flavors come over me like modest waves,
others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves,
where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure
then I smell our sharings.
lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper,
a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed,
the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts,
decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula,
word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh
then I smell our combinations.
the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled,
the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins,
the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt,
appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us,
our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem
it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity,
at its most pungent peaking,
for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water
and the sophistry of French soap,
the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo,
together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry,
your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more,
for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of
only love poetry that crested high above the trite
Friday, March 29 2019
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
She lies in bed at night
pondering life or death
the stars shine bright
as she takes her last breath
her mom walks in and cries
she thinks to herself
as her heart dies
then she looks on the shelf
there's a note it reads "MOM"
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
Then he went back thinking there was
still something he could go back to.
But she shut her doors to him.
She was not being selfish.
She just wanted to save herself
from another pain.
She wanted to save her heart
from another sorrow.
And that was the moment
she felt free.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 9:34 AM UTC
She had so much love to give.
Yet, no one wanted it.
So she forced herself
to act like she didn’t love.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
How could the
princess run from
the dragon,
When she's the
dragon herself.
-HIY
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
your call was to
an deaf
your
un
sober
thoughts
have drown
your liquored
tip
lead
me here
through
your hollows
nighttime that swallows
your minds flesh
take off
your
****** forehead
my last love
sessions
over
?
...
..
.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
Many years had passed; the woman still worries the loss of the man--
She's still blaming herself; and keeps carrying the pain.
Whatever she wants to forget; she still wondered what she could do and asked herself what is her plan?--
The damage has been done; but why still remain?
She keeps remembering the pain that she have done; she remembered that she's the only reason--
She's the reason why she lost her love; she's the reason why her loved ones were gone.
She's crying again; she's hurt and she thought that she had treason--
Many people told her that she need to forget it and it's not her fault for what had happened; but she still can't move on.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 6:12 AM UTC
She sits on her bed wondering if she will ever get better.
Ever BE better.
She wonders if her choices and emotions are her fault
Or a product of something deeper.
She stares at herself in the mirror
and wonders
If her tired eyes were caused by the torrent of tears, or instead, if they were caused by life's tolls.
But,
What she doesn't know,
Is that the only person who sees her in this way
Is herself.
She
Is only the underdog
To herself.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 12:08 PM UTC
She
Is
Selfish and
Greedy and
Tiring and
Useless and
Awkward and
Anxious and
Moody
Yet
She
Is above that.
She
Is
Beautiful and
Intellegent and
Kind and
Caring and
Helpful and
Honest and
Thoughtful
Yet
She
Is below that.
She
Is herself.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC