#phases
Could I be a full moon?
I've only ever related to a half.
Whether it's a glass nearly empty
or less than a whole.
Can I be someone full?
The kind of person who glows
Even when their cup isn't overflowing?
I want to know what I'm capable of
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 10:03 AM UTC
A little pouch,
made of muscle
and my blood.
Inside, it has
everything in
my whole life.
Some soft feathers
from when I was
a free bird,
free and flying
across the sky—
the sweet world;
some fierce-looking
and fear-causing
lion fur,
from my epoch
as defiant,
rebel beast;
two little horns
from my time as
worker ox,
obeying and
submitting to
every rule;
and, finally,
two more feathers
from the owl
I embody
at this time.
That is my heart,
and what has shaped
my whole life.
Mar 29
Mar 29, 2026 at 5:50 AM UTC
No, the moon never turned
her back on her,
But she did hide behind the clouds–
And that's how she knew her thoughts were too loud.
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 11:28 AM UTC
Midnight started going by Night when she turned twenty-five. She was letting the tides guide. Getting her chakras aligned. Drinking smoothies. Said it was a New Moon, ‘ya know? A blank slate. A fresh canvas. Said this would make her whole.
Maybe it’ll stick. Maybe this new dawn will be the last. Only Earth knows, of course. But I heard through the grapevine that Daylight’s been saying it’s just a phase.
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 1:51 AM UTC
(Phase:1)
You blinked,
My breathe hitched.
Walked across the room,
I swore I was swooned.
You held my hand,
I couldn't even hear the door slam.
Caressed my back,
Uh-oh, cut me some slack.
You like me, you say,
This is my favourite May.
The background blurs, a halo forms 'round you,
I can stick with you like glue.
(Phase:2)
You won't return my texts,
Don't even give any context.
I convince myself, he's just busy,
He is not leaving me, is he?
You yelled at me today,
Left me in decay.
Didn't even care to apologize,
It took me a moment to analyze.
You say, you can't do this anymore,
They all leave, I have kept a score.
You walk away,
Next time, I won't sway.
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 2:05 PM UTC
those shadows under your weary eyes
that change with every passing night;
line them like dreary curtains, hiding your many plights.
your head still plays that one tune;
and your shadows are like the dark side of the moon.
never the same, as if it were night in a field of rye --
accompanied by the pearly lights of the midnight sky.
the inky blackness of your conscious hemorrhage,
drenched in freezing waters, against the depths of your memory begin to effleurage.
which at once creates a hazy fog in your great ocean,
too still and opaque to make a single motion;
and those dark, glimmering eyes open with the golden sunrise;
warm and blooming, syrupy and glaze
swirling with auburn and chocolate haze.
i can never forget, and i will never regret.
you speak, you ramble; you and your cares;
and you breathe, breathing a mist into the cold air.
you wake, from your slumber in that freezing past,
stuck behind that window pane of shattered glass.
i love both of you; you and your other half --
the reason i break out in a severe laugh.
the dark side of your moon --
the sliver of light that breaking through.
your heavy-lidded awkwardness, a
shy smile, as you grip your coffee -
this winter chill in your bones, your meek and quiet authority.
the rose blooms in your face, when you quicken your pace.
the other is teeming with vigor. he is filled with a profound rigor;
eventually he will intrude,
forced to pay for his life through servitude.
he wakes in the dead of night to do what he believes is right;
he wraps himself in white armor, becoming the knight.
with crimson on his hands and
plum bruises on his knuckles, he retreats,
and so the hectic process repeats.
his trauma heals and dawn arrives,
and the other wakes up, believing the muddled disguise.
you lose track of your sleep, the days, the time;
your pain, the month, your mind.
your insomnia grows at your windowpane,
like a flowering *** of healthy nightshade.
and your crinkled, dusty flat,
along with your wrinkled kitchen mat;
is perfect for a lazy evening chat.
and though you may undergo many changes,
i will still love you and your many phases.
Mar 11, 2025
Mar 11, 2025 at 11:37 AM UTC
Autumn is here, the leaves turning pale.
Evening is here; the day slowly fades.
The falling leaves, the gloaming sun
The arched moon, the winter's turn
All singing a melody of revival
For death is necessary before life's arrival
Nov 28, 2024
Nov 28, 2024 at 12:05 AM UTC
Some say love is not but false
Others say they’ve felt it twice
That even through its faults it remains a gift to life
If I were to choose, I’d see it through
In hopes I might feel it too
That sweet and nourishing touch from someone who cares enough to love
For those who opt to not, in the end is also fine
And wouldn’t rot their chances if their unloving phase subsides
If truly they start, and become open to change
Then with clearer eyes, bad habits they must break
For love is a hurricane, a life changing phase, If you let it be.
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 9:05 PM UTC
Days feel like months and months feel like years but alas,
only minutes have passed
and I’m still in today
and tomorrow is yet to pass.
But I have tried to move on and be free
I have tried to be better than I am today than I was yesterday
But this war unto myself
Has only ruined me.
I don’t know when the wait will end
I don’t know when my life will begin
But if life is to begin then it can begin again tomorrow
But that’s not the point
That’s not what the wait is for.
I’m waiting to be free
To be unburdened from life’s destiny
I wish to move on to a clear beginning
But to begin again, means an end is to come
So I’m stuck in this endless spiral that goes nor up nor down
Just moves in rotation to complete this circle
But always begins again for me.
Apr 30, 2024
Apr 30, 2024 at 6:18 AM UTC
The waves are silent. The waves
don't move. Nobody wants to be here
and nobody wants to leave.
There's a man trapped
under his house with an alligator.
His wife does the thin space walk:
an olive, a cherry, and an onion.
She'd sensed his gaze and took off
her dressing gown. She asked if he thought
her bottom was too big, her mind too small.
He said a faded, faulted no.
He's stupid, but he'll catch on
sooner or later. He once saw a ray in her,
but she fell out of orbit. Waxing and waning.
She's got to be careful, after
the sleeping pills and gas. She knows
it's Wednesday because she
took her last pill on Tuesday.
Allowing the world she so painstakingly
built up to ignite and burn apart
in front of both their eyes.
Nov 1, 2023
Nov 1, 2023 at 7:04 PM UTC
#*Blue and white
Black and white
Monochromatic
Or rainbow like
Cold and numb
Warm to fuzzy
Systematic
Cognitive overdrive
Day and night
At will
Unflinching
Rhythmic
Serpentine*#
Sep 16, 2023
Sep 16, 2023 at 9:22 AM UTC
If you would ever ask me to write a poem for you,
Disbelief would become my roommate for a year.
I would summon ink in my body
to flow through me.
It would then penetrate my moist fingertips
and get spilt on an old, dusty,
crumbled and tattered piece of paper;
the six strings of my heart
would strum symphonies that paint
your face on my canvas,
and I would laugh a little joy, cry a little pain.
But in the end, I would smile.
The white vinegar of our memories
would clear the rust from my iron heart,
and my lost emotions would return home again to my pen.
If you would ever ask me to write a poem for you,
I would write about how I decided to tie
my heart’s shoelaces with yours forever,
but ended up tripping and falling into you.
I would write about how weird a feeling I had
the first time we stood face to face.
It was like I met an angel
who was a thief in disguise.
You stole from me.
You stole my keys.
The keys to the room where my speech used to dwell.
You left me both dumb and dumbfounded.
I was awed by your soul’s power to
stitch so pure a person
that it was worth persuading my eyes to follow you.
If you would ever ask me to write a poem for you,
I would stay up all night
thinking of why I never said what
my heart held inside to you.
I would scratch my head and look for
words that suit you, that you deserve.
I would try to request the afterglow to face
your windows and the moon to smile at you
throughout the moonlit night.
I would skip stones on the
river in the night sky,
and form vast galaxies
that would tip-toe into your eyes from mine.
I would pencil your name on my life
and play dusty harmonies on my typewriter.
I’d dive into your eyes. I’d sink into you.
If you would ever ask me to write a poem for you,
I would try to write about how
I learned to love my life
just because I had you in it;
like learning to ride a bicycle
or performing some experiment:
I was scared of getting scars but I realized
the sacredness of those scars
only after I got them.
I would write about how I want you
to listen to my heartbeats whispering
your name out loud,
how I want my eyes to cherish your smile
one last time before you go out of my sight.
I would write about how your eyes
open into the caverns of your love.
If you would ever ask me to write a poem for you,
I would try to write you a love poem
such that I could paint a picture of
what you mean to me.
I would try to breathe some honesty
and pen down every little detail
about the divinity that you hold inside yourself.
I’d stutter while reciting it in front of the mirror
and I would never have the guts
to hand the poem that I wrote, to you.
Because I never reached that place where I could.
I’d also realize: there is no power in the
infinite cosmic ocean that can describe perfection.
~ Swift!
Aug 27, 2021
Aug 27, 2021 at 6:15 AM UTC
I speak to the moon about you
And she's tired of hearing about your phases
We drink to you until the sunrise
When all your light seems somewhat faded
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 11:15 AM UTC
The truth is I don't want to be a lingering after thought. A space that fills void. An unattainable purge of what you have been lacking. A comma in the break of a sentence, I've been in to many situationships to idealize anything less than romantic. To many almost & could have been something's. It's like a reflection of the sun but the heat never dissipates close enough for me to know it's real. The existence of it leaves my soul aching in hunger even though my belly is full. Maybe that's the difference of it, getting high off sugar and the other endorphins. One the body can sustain, the other just a flicker of a high that last as long as the burst of affection. To be desired is a supernova of lust. It's a star that burned out centuries ago but the light still fools you into believing it's present. To be loved is like the moon and all of its phases because even when the moon shows up in parts, you know it's wholly still there. Still yours. Still will rise again tomorrow.
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 12:24 AM UTC
the
m o o n
can make you gracefully
in love with it's phases;
if you can look
up to the
s k y
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 11:16 PM UTC
At the end of endless search,
found the precious gem.
only to give it away,
as it doesn't fit my ring
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 3:48 AM UTC
The birds speak of a kindred soul
One that basks in the afterglow
of a solemn moon lingering in the daylight
and you watch as nights go on
the way it changes phases
falling in love with the idea
of embracing the volatility of life
Jan 4, 2021
Jan 4, 2021 at 1:30 PM UTC
Life is all about change;
We grow by the process
Of problem exchange.
Overcoming a phase,
Brings us to the next;
Excellence is what we chase.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 2:24 AM UTC
Why do these skies seem clear,
while they hide rain clouds
that house the impending thunders?
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
You were like the moon.
You had your phases.
Bad ones, good ones.
Ones that would end us.
Ones that would demote me from the sky.
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 6:39 AM UTC
When I was on the way to grow,
To understand anything I was slow
Like a river in own way I love to flow,
In my dream world with truth, my face glow
All happiness were kept and devil gloom is to blow,
Only I walk to the way that I draw
That was my dream world where my face glow
But now I am grown,
For my mistakes, people call me frown,
I met people many of them are con
They are happy as they are and say,
This way they are born,
In my dream life, I flow but now I can only drown,
I felt pity and for them, I mourn
But this is the way life goes on and on and on........
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 2:47 AM UTC
As the crescent moon
Awaits fulfilment again
We, too, wax and wane
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 5:32 PM UTC
way above the clouds,
i watch the moon change phase
floating in the stars,
i’m in a cosmic daze
whispers in my ear,
the planets call my name
so far from it all,
don’t have to feel
lying on the moon,
nowhere else feels right like this
tangled in the sky,
all my sorrows disappear
finally i’m free,
i cry tears of golden light
so far from it all,
don’t even think of you
i’m falling, but i don’t mind falling up here
i’m reaching, but i don’t need catching,
it’s so clear
i’m floating, but never feeling
i’m wondering,
if i’ll every have to leave
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 12:32 PM UTC
Tears so subliminal that it quenches the scorching radiation of the sun, that it watereth the most dreary of deserts..
Tears taken from the very ocean of life,
Ocean which is the event horizon of ships..
Ships whose propellers are naught but two elements, with the given names pleasure and fear..
Two elements driven the ship thither and whither but to the nigh end..
End which is determined yet not determined, an interim end which transient into phases..
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 5:25 PM UTC