#string
Were there clues
I didn’t see?
Sometimes I replay it in my head—
all those years of noticing you
without really noticing you.
You were there,
somewhere in the background,
a road I passed often
but never once considered taking.
Not because it wasn’t there.
Just because I wasn’t ready
to wonder where it led.
And I think about that veil—
the one life places gently over your eyes
when someone isn’t meant to be seen yet.
Not hidden,
just out of focus.
I believe that’s what happened to us.
You existed in my orbit
but never in my story.
Not then.
The veil only lifted
when we had both changed enough
to recognize each other.
Because by then
I had stopped believing in fairy tales.
Stopped waiting for the one.
Stopped trusting promises
of happy endings
and forever written in advance.
I learned the hard way
that love isn’t destiny—
it’s timing,
growth,
and two people becoming
who they’re meant to be
at the same moment.
And now when I look at you,
I don’t see who you were back then.
I see who you are now.
More importantly,
I see who you’re no longer trying to be.
Just like me.
Maybe that’s why we clicked—
not because we were always meant to,
but because one day
we were finally ready to.
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 12:43 PM UTC
i am a web, a balloon, anything existing with a string. is a plate still a plate when broken? how many pieces will you have to take out until it turns from a whole plate to a piece of a plate? i have recently lost a part of myself, or so i thought. i've gotten so caught up in the entirety of redirection and new opportunities, that i've forgotten who i am and who i was. i wanted to quit something i was passionate about, or used to be, but every visual i saw spoke about the benefits of discipline and never giving up. when i told people i wanted to quit, they were shocked. though i may and probably will return, i dont understand how one thing can represent and determine my life. i want to be everything and every idea ive ever had, not just one. i am more than a string
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 10:01 PM UTC
Maybe I have a deadly contract
Maybe I've a Sin-Smelted Forge
Maybe I have a selfish request
Bound by the Trappings of a Lord
But still I may grasp
Onto these strings pulling me
As if they were going to bring the whole world down
Into the depths, beneath the sea
Yet his forge still roars
And his manor stands tall
All the Stone-Lifes lay in wait,
For they are his manor's walls.
But I'll clutch my key and open the gate
And confront his mindless servants with no delay
To find out what lies deep within
Duke Erisia's
Forge Of Sin.
Dec 12, 2025
Dec 12, 2025 at 11:42 PM UTC
I’m not sure why I like you. I mean I have no clue. Because quite frankly, I’m way out of your league, and I know it. It’s obvious that I can admit, and maybe you can too. But for some reason, I’m the one chasing you, instead of being the prize. And I guess it’s fun, the chase. It’s my reason to go to school. But am I yours? Or am I just that annoying girl who’s always texting you? Do you not want to ghost me, just because you feel bad? I know the answer to that even less than the original question. Because in a way, I do know why I like you. It’s not because you’re different from the other guys. You’re just the same. And you’re a 5/10 on a good day. So maybe a bit below average. But you’re you. And I’m me. The me that feels like she has a rope tied around her neck, the end of it at your ankle. One of us will die by the end of it, and one of us won’t. But another way to see it is invisible string theory. A single thread of gold has been laced around us since, maybe forever, but we only found out, I mean, I only found out last year, when I met you. You’re funny and kind, and you match my energy. You don’t have a fragile masculinity, and you remember the little things, because you are an observer. And you love cats. Now, I know these are all qualities I could find within every other guy, but it seems different with you. So I guess that’s why I like you. No matter how basic and flawed you are, no matter the fact that ever since the age of 13 your clothes reek of cigarettes. You have really good style, by the way. You dress nicely. I like that about you. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive senior year, with you in Cegep, and me still in high school. I miss you already, even though you aren’t my boyfriend. Not yet.
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 11:13 AM UTC
Conway’s game of life,
e^(iπ) + 1 is zero,
Just four base pairs in our DNA,
And still, we play the hero.
Twelve fermions, five bosons,
Compose our world and sky,
In every star and falling leaf,
In every brain that questions why.
I’d love to dive into the depths
Of quantum's mystic plan,
And watch the clockwork tick and hum,
To glimpse the beating heart of all.
Perhaps it’s all so simple,
Too simple to perceive,
A truth so bare and elegant,
Our minds refuse to believe.
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC
If my body were strings—
Dancing to pure vibration
Granting the possibility
of lively, touchable matter,
Matter itself would hinge
on the sweet tremor of your name.
It sure felt the rip—
Heart out my ribs—
when your voice went silent.
Still,
in love-frequencies,
such filaments rejoice:
knotting and tangling
replaying us through
Several hidden dimensions—
*Or whatever modern physics
keeps hinting at it.*
I lost my focus—dreaming a quantum leap—
Believe me:
Such threads tense at every thought
of their plausible alignments:
A bunch of them making
Your ancestors’ atoms colliding!
Just so one day
— for my own personal desire—
one random entanglement
could finally produce—
the loveliest colour
your eyes would have.
Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 3:57 PM UTC
Now that you've found me after 7 years, it doesn't seem magical or romantic like in the movies.
You have to understand. I thought I'd never hear from you again.
God this is supposed to be a miracle, a red string connection...why does it seem ordinary, kind of boring.
Disappointing, being found by a man who's already kept.
Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 3:22 PM UTC
We were always more
Than the sum of ourselves
We were never two that became one
Or one plus one
Equates two
We were beyond relativity
More than carbon
More than water
More multi dimensional
There is no other explanation
As to why we still connect
Through portals of time
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 4:15 AM UTC
Unravel me—open, bare,
A ball of yarn resting in your lap.
Your fingers move with purpose, finding my knots,
Lingering on my curves,
tugging gently at my loops.
You untangle me slowly,
Thread by thread, red string pooling beneath you.
See me as i am—
Whole, unguarded,
Freed from the weight of my knots.
Open for you,
Soft, exposed,
Yours to hold,
Yours to keep.
Unravel me
Dec 6, 2024
Dec 6, 2024 at 2:14 PM UTC
I have a string of gold
It’s wrapped around me
Like a gentle whispers
Gliding upwards softly
Gold is malleable
Mar 20, 2024
Mar 20, 2024 at 2:59 AM UTC
Whether she Harp or Guitar,
The real art behind her instrument is understanding that in which I pluck
Sep 6, 2022
Sep 6, 2022 at 10:04 AM UTC
he plays with my love
with the strings of his bow
it makes such a precise sound
consistently on pitch
he moves his hands
inch-perfect on strings
each tune a new sorrow
each string used
more infatuated then before
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 3:56 PM UTC
Forgot what I searched for to find heaven.
But I know that at the age of seven
I seized my mother’s phone and found a god.
He led me to an arresting world with strings.
Strings that swept your hair the way the wind does
when your ego would reach the sparkling skies.
They touched your heart no matter how heartless.
I refused to blink because if I did
I would miss a second of his gentle
fingers gliding across the maple fretboard.
And no sane person would want to miss that!
Strings danced back and forth as he played a chord.
Oh, his fingers grew sore, but calluses
helped desensitize them from aches and pain.
The instrument he mastered was waiting
to call him master cause’ guitars love how
he manipulates and makes them his slave.
Strings begged for his touch, for sounds they could make.
My eyes felt heavier than dense gym weights.
I mustn’t stop gazing if I want to
stay lost in heaven. So **** riveting!
“School is tomorrow.” ****** I forgot.”
“Give the phone back. Hmm, what are you watching?”
“Heaven.” “What did you say?” “I said heaven.”
Mom didn’t say anything afterward.
A few hours came, she asked for the phone.
I gave it to her, prepared my backpack.
Maybe in a different universe.
I would have proclaimed, “Don’t take the phone back.”
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 4:34 PM UTC
It's always you, whom I miss
It reminds me of the perfect blue
on purple sky,
I attach him on a beguiling lullaby retracting the memories of the sea
where the strings like constellations
connect us; You can never be apart from the ocean.
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 7:26 PM UTC
choose or be a life
puppet on a string is you
unless you say not
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 4:48 PM UTC
My mind is blank
In my head, dark thoughts sank
My mind is clouded
Things are shrouded
I can't see a thing
So I begin to sing
Not knowing what it shall bring
I sing of spring
I sing of my king
I see a ring
Attached to a string
What does the string bring?
Am I willing to take the risk
I need to be brisk
Shall I give my life to someone
Or decline the ring from one
Not knowing what the string brings
~23/3/21
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 2:58 AM UTC
Seems unreal
And abstract
A string of zeros
That exists in some
Strange place
Of its own
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 4:14 PM UTC
A puppet on a string.
Every movement
Every word
A mimic
A rehearsal
Every breath is controlled
It wants to see the world
It wants to be free
But all the puppet can do
Is hang off its string
It wants to make friends
It wants to be happy
But it meets the string’s ends
And life’s quite ******
It can see
But it cannot reach
It can hear
But cannot speak
If only it were free
Then it would speak
It if were free
It could reach
But the hands that hold it
Are its own
And it can’t decide
When to let go…..
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 10:52 AM UTC
Attached as if our skin
is patched together
by the red strings of fate
that signify forever.
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 11:26 PM UTC
with a million rounds,
the train, like a tongue,
rolls out of the mouth
like people,
and onto the ground it crashed.
a massive hug to the
***** concrete heart
and the last carriage
made a pact with the air as it
landed halfway, mid-air,
with strings attached to its
wheels,
halfway-unhinged,
an origami left
with its ancient creases,
and it is desperate to
wage war upon
noises and things and
pans and iron axes,
and bang, and screech, and
****
****
****
beckoning you into the wheel,
with strings clawed into the
skin, like silver
linings meant for you
but we twist it around our finger
all to hard,
it hugged around too tight
and we are shredded paper,
too many wrinkles and creases
and tear-stains
on your
whatever paper.
we then, twist, oh we twist,
twist others into a slow,
uncertain dance ritual.
and i dont know what to say,
to think to say,
to tie my words to those strings
and throw it out into
the open air, dangling like a
wheel, another
form of a
roulette wheel,
and then what?
let it dance?
see if it falls and hugs
and then breaks,
or then, it breaks
them.
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 10:14 AM UTC
_'Actually, my friend in Taranaki makes the stars. I combine them with my own elements and string them into garlands,' wrote Makery. There was an element of apology about her words. As if she’d been rumbled. As if someone had confirmed the voice of self-doubt that whispered in her ear, 'Who do you think you are, calling yourself an artisan?'
Stringing things together is applied artistry - whether it be words, Scandi-style stars, or fairytale mushrooms threaded on candy coloured twine. We are all hunter-gatherers who construct our creations from discovered elements. Some transmute received knowledge into constructed knowledge. Others beachcomb lexica for found syncretic treasures. All aspire to contribute to the infinite compendium of human self-expression, to create something which says, 'This is who I am.' With the silent addendum, 'I hope you like it.'_
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
Swift was dusk, reminding people how time flies by quickly before one realized.
Their world was separated,
two boundaries that could never met,
as was fated by heaven itself.
Slip from the crack of the boundary,
The two illusionary figures collide.
Stretching across the land,
White flakes cover every nook and cranny,
Their figures were like two magnets attracted toward one another.
She knew of his name that was covered in blood.
He had walked a path filled with corpses,
the murderer who slaughtered millions with his sword.
Looking at him from a distance, she laughed.
Nothing was needed to be said,
for words were meaningless to the both of them than the look they gave to each other.
The country is broken, though hills and rivers remain,
In the city in spring, the grass and trees are thick.
Chaos, like oil mixing with water, order is not to be anchored.
Enemy, are many;
Peace is few.
In this world, my enemy is numerous as clouds,
Are you willing to accompany my path?
Her smile was the blooming spring that would be coming.
Somehow, she had always believed in him.
He would never fail her.
If he walked the path filled with obstacles, then she would accompany him!
Alone in the northern lands,
The two of them burrow their feet in the earth,
Hands held gently against one another as they faced each other.
A tranquil solemnity befalls on the place,
as all of nature was to witness the soon unity of the couple,
Far from the turmoil of the world.
First, Prayer to the heaven and earth present to witness their love.
As if signifying their presence,
The earth shook, the clouds cleared.
Their heads held high, and their gaze locked onto each other.
A bow to Heaven and Earth,
This bow is as surreal as a dream.
First thanking Heaven for bestowing conformity upon the two of us,
Allowing me to meet you among billions of people,
Till white-haired yet never parted.
A bow to Heaven and Earth,
Kneeling love and hate into dust,
Before kowtowing the earth, permitting a place of quietude for the both of us.
let us imagine the world hatred as congratulatory,
In the end, neither of us owning the other anything,
This life, this moment,
There are only the twos of us.
And the final bow to Heaven and Earth,
the last to represent that they would stick through thick and thin,
a bow to each other,
Immemorial promises to remind each other that they are one yet not, alone yet together.
Their conviviality was sent as a prayer to Heaven and Earth,
coveting their thoughts for peace,
And may it last forever more, under the eternal heaven.
If not this life,
In the next life,
May we meet again.
May 7, 2020
May 7, 2020 at 2:05 PM UTC
Taffeta watches the pigs atop the tables
Glass eyes and stitches where they're enabled
Guts pumping crimson liquid
Sewing 'em up, she's addicted
Family and friends recommend she withdraw
She responded with a twinkle in her eye and a dropped jaw
Scissors and string, that's all she'll need
Besides a corpse, of course, and a bit of stuffing
Lilac eyes affixed on a tattered pillow
Enjoying watching a weeping Willow
Her poor Porky pet has met his end
But everyone knows you can depend
Before your sweet pet starts to smell
On Taffeta's Taxidermy to stuff 'em well
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 4:29 PM UTC