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1h · 20
Sending Leaves
Tatiana 1h
I sit on my front steps with a camera and listen to the leaves
As they slide across rough concrete
Like the wind has secrets to keep
If I listen I may decipher what’s dear.
Leaves carry notes of love long lost
Letters meant for hands that can no longer hold.
I pick one up and trace its veins
and listen to the message it contains.
Regrets for time not spent
now the currency is valueless.
Updates of the present
a simple gift to the past.
Notes about plans
now cancelled eternally.
Some leaves dry up and get crushed,
some bear the marks of words rushed,
But not a single one lacks love.
Not a single one lacks love.
I capture moments with a click and a shutter.
Preserve the memories so I won’t lose them in the clutter
Of a desk covered in papers and pens.
With drawings of a time I can barely comprehend.
Why is holding a leaf like holding your hand?
A fragile, weightless being, supported by the wind.
I don’t want to let go and see you
taken away again.
No, I must remember
the time that we shared.
When leaves were a beauty
pointed out on forest trails.
Find comfort in the memories
Captured by cameras and pens
There is a beauty in every
beginning and end.
I can whisper that to the leaves
send them like a letter I penned
And maybe when the wind delivers
it to those ghostly hands
We'll know it's been read.
I know I won't know
until I see you again.
Whispers in the wind
Until I see you again
and receive leaves
from the messenger wind.
Here's a poem I wrote awhile back but wasn't ready to share right away. It's how I feel every January.
Jan 29 · 63
A Hurting Heart
Tatiana Jan 29
I'll tell a tale of a heart that wants
a place to sit and rest
where it can relax from a brain's taunts
slow its beating in a chest
that's locked up tight buried in the sands
of a beach the picture of paradise
people dig for it with trembling hands
can't obtain the chest though they paid the price
of searching for a treasured heart
that wishes diggers will take a break
A heart beats though it wants to depart
how much more hate can it take?

Higher functions demand a heart to beat
it continues to hurt beneath diggers' feet.
Jan 9 · 57
Tatiana Jan 9
I bit my lip so I won't speak
chewed it up so my words won't peek
out with my tongue. Mouth shut, I keep
my voice to myself even when I weep.
I'm on the ground like a trembling dove
being cut with scissors wielded with love.
They clipped my words
like wings of birds.
Held those feathers to the light
and ordered them to take flight.
Then laughed when I stilled on the concrete
and nudged my broken wings with their feet.
Jan 8 · 64
Tatiana Jan 8
Caffeinate my heart
speed up its beats
then crush it just like coffee beans
brew it into something new
serve it up
in a cup
then spit it out
'cause it's a bitter brew
Tatiana Jan 6
Wonderstruck by snow in winter
like the season didn't hint her
plans to me when the sky grew grey,
the wind picked up, and what did it say?
"Expect snow to fall while you sleep.
It'll bury you three inches deep."
I remember the warning so crystal clear
and yet I'm surprised to see a deer
outside my window
playing in snow.
And when I went outside and inspected
the snow, it was cold, I don't know what I expected.
You know when you're surprised that what you expected to happen actually happens? That's what this poem is about.
Dec 2019 · 72
Only A Few Minutes Now
Tatiana Dec 2019
I stood on the side of a busy road
on a winter evening, not many years ago.
The blaring red and white lights,
sometimes yellow or even blue
had me squinting in response
but I didn't move from my spot.
No matter how close the cars passed me by.
No matter how much the lights hurt my eyes.
And I was approached by some sort of ghost
who leaned on the guardrail next to me.
"Nice weather we're having,"
he said to me in a way of greeting,
and flashed me a smile of broken teeth.
A helmet damaged and hung down his back,
the straps still clipped together.
A **** in his skull bleeding down his pale face
and several bones out of place.
Could he still feel that pain?
Next to him was his mangled bicycle.
"Bit of a blind turn?" He asked me.
It was a rather difficult turn.
I nodded my head in agreement.
"It's gonna rain soon. You should get going."
The ghost continued.
"I think I'll stay," I replied.
The ghost shook his head.
"Listen, once that rain starts
you're a few minutes away from a tragedy."
I didn't reply.
"The minute it happens, you'll wish it hadn't."
the ghost insisted.
The rain he spoke of started to fall
and I remained where I was
leaning against guardrail.

"I'm not leaving," the ghost said.
"I'm not leaving until you go home."

"Well, we have only a few minutes now.
I'll be home soon enough."

A tragedy
Tatiana Dec 2019
Hey Lord, I hear him.
He's not whispering.

"Dear Lord, I'm nothing but a pile of bones
picked clean by the crows
I want to go home."

Oh Lord what will you do?
I still hear him crying out for you.

"Lord, I know I'm a sinner at best
but please let my heart rest
they deserve to know."

No, he doesn't know how long it has been.
His heart has crumbled with his flesh.
His body won't be touched again.
Lord, if he is a sinner
then what does that make me?
I don't pray. He pleads to you on broken knees.

Lord what have you done?
His voice has left my head.
Have you shown your mercy and let him rest?
Or did you take away my senses
so I no longer have to deal with the dread
of a sinner's regretful heart again.
I feel like the poem I originally wrote has so much to say and I'm not done saying it just yet.
Link ^ to the original poem so you can get the full story.
Dec 2019 · 221
A Crow Rested On A Fence
Tatiana Dec 2019
A crow rested on a fence
and I wondered what this story-book fiend
with his dark, beady eyes, clever sense
and his feathers well-preened
wanted from someone as hollow as me.
I couldn't do anything but wait and see.

What did one say when faced with a crow
who had no appointments to rush to
no place he must go?
As if speaking was something I could do.
So with a wooden arm I gave him a little wave.
Pleased, he came closer, that fabled young knave.

I could not move much and I could not speak
as the crow stopped right at my rooted feet
and prodded my foot with his beak.
I'm a listless liar he deemed worthy to meet.
So I did not speak and I did not move
an inaction of which the crow did not approve.

He flew back to his fence that creaked
and shifted when the wind pressured its joints.
The forceful draft stung my eyes so they leaked
tears, I found I always disappoint.
The crow flexed his black wings
eyes closed as, for him, the gale sings.

I croaked out a question from deep in my throat
the wind became a whisper as the crow paid attention
"Are you here to jeer and gloat
over my bad decisions and poor intentions?"
He shook that dark head and said
"You're a terrible liar. I'm here to help instead."

"But are you not a portender of death
here to show me I have the illest of luck?"
Why can I not catch my breath?
Wondrous wings glide on waning wind then tuck
neatly against his back for he chose my shoulders
to better speak words that doused what smolders.

The crow rested on my shoulders and cawed
a sound soft and broken
and I thought it terribly odd
that the crow would caw when it was well-spoken.
So when the pressure of panic permeated my chest
the crow spoke again so my horrible heart could rest

"If I were just a crow residing on a fence..."
He gestured with his wing to where he was before.
"Then I'd have left you to your own offense
and not show you what you often ignore."
His black wings pushed my head 'til I saw the gate.
Hope swung at my roots freeing my feet from their hate.

"I believe you have many apologies to make."
I nodded my head and the gate opened.
The crow continued, "The right choices often take
an ax to your tree, to your roots. With hope and
desire to change, you can grow something new."
I stepped into the world beyond the fence and away the crow flew.
A long one. I've always been a fan of long poems and telling stories throughout. What do you all think?
Dec 2019 · 81
Water and Fire
Tatiana Dec 2019
my lungs are under pressure
the lake has done nothing wrong
other than exist
in a time of humans
who see it as a fair way
to execute
I never learned to swim
I see their torchlight at the surface
it's so far away
my hands outstretched toward
the flames
they can't burn me while I'm down here
I may take some solace in that
I feel this is somehow worse
because with fire I'll be ash
and the wind will whisk me away
but at the bottom of a lake
I'm doomed to look up
at dancing flames
for eternity
Don't drown me

this is my, very quickly written poetry series where I don't think about what I was writing in the slightest and hope that the outcome is passable
Dec 2019 · 230
Fire and Water
Tatiana Dec 2019
Though I want to be ash
don't burn me alive
I can't take it a second time
to see the crowd
with their buckets of water
watching in awe
as I, the dry kindling
light up
as I, the roaring flames
as I, the intense heat
evaporate the water
they had with them
to put me out
when my burning was done

rapid fire poems right now
Dec 2019 · 63
Earth and Wind
Tatiana Dec 2019
If you bury me
if you must
don't waste your time digging six feet
for your strength will fail
before you reach it
Keep my grave shallow
the dirt will keep me safe
ensconced in its arms
but will let me go before I rot
If I'm buried
than I have business left to me
that I must defeat
and I'll climb out of my grave
dust the dirt off my clothes
and the wind will cry a warning
to those with whom I must settle a score
and make their world nothing more
The earth will contain my fury
until I'm ready to unleash
Dec 2019 · 66
Wind and Earth
Tatiana Dec 2019
I want to be ashes
just dust
I want to rise again some day
and I can't do that while I decay
in a coffin below the earth
I want to be set free
keep my ashes in a hearth
in an urn
or let the breeze
take me to where I wish to rest
let the earth's winds ******* away
and when you hear the wind howling
in Summer or in Autumn
in Winter or in Spring
you'll know it was just my way
of saying
I'm at peace
Dec 2019 · 63
Triggered Thoughts
Tatiana Dec 2019
Trigger my thoughts
     with a ticklish touch
and watch my body
     **** away.
As I shudder and plead
     for you to end my unease.
You think I like it.
     You say I like it.
Have I played my part yet
     like I'm some marionette?
Tug on my limbs
     make me respond to your whims.
Touch yields no pleasure
     when I'm young and in danger.
I dance because you make me.
     I lie still when you take me.
Words won't leave my mouth
     though years have passed.
You're a monster that destroys
     every child you contact.
But my pen still works
     and I'll write of you.
Like a villain in a story book
     you will end too.
These poems are always the most difficult to post but I have to process it somewhere. It's not the first time I talked about the ****** abuse I suffered when I was a kid and it won't be the last.
Just a reminder to others that they aren't alone in their struggles and if someone is hurting you, doing anything that you are uncomfortable with in the slightest, speak to someone you trust. There are people who will help.
I didn't know what was happening at the time and I was scared to even say it, could barely believe it myself and now all I have left of this is my word that it happened. So I'll continue to write about it so that others can read it and not suffer in silence that way I have for years.
Dec 2019 · 124
A Fire Put Out
Tatiana Dec 2019
Crack my bones like dry kindling
and make more room for some logs.
Then set them on fire
watch my body burn hotter
than any star.
If you feel queasy
at how I burn so easy
then maybe turn away.
Let me die out with the flames.
Don't douse me.
But my dignity is something
you're not willing to give.
So you take the water
and toss it on me.
A fire put out, can't die on its own.
I'm just embers and ashes
that you leave out in the open.
A day and night passes
and you return to the spot
to poke a stick at my cinder heart.
You're shivering, are you cold?
It's too bad I have no bones
left to warm your icy soul.
I'm a fire put out, can't die on my own.
I'll see you home.
Dec 2019 · 76
Tatiana Dec 2019
In a burrow a snake lies
to itself
about its health,
if lids could cover its eyes
then maybe that would help.
But scales have formed
where human lids
grow on kids,
and shivers have wormed
their way through its body.
When the time finally comes
to shed its skin
what's left within?
Will life's pleasant hums
attract it outside?
Or will the cycle start again?
What was soft, scaly, and thin
has hardened
against the cruel nature I've yet to pen.
The snake always leaves behind its skin.

What was within your skin?
Dec 2019 · 168
Record Player
Tatiana Dec 2019
I can feel your voice
like grooves in a record
knowing the sounds that come out
will send me spinning
along with the music
Dec 2019 · 56
Sitting On My Wings
Tatiana Dec 2019
I'm sitting on my wings
and wondering why I can't fly.
Is there a doctor I can speak to
that'll diagnose my desire to die?

Do you know what it's like
to make believe all the time?
Do you know what it's like
to be stuck between death and flight?

I look up to the sky so blue
and see birds flying like I'm supposed to.
What am I doing wrong?
I raise my arms up, always reaching

for a helping hand
yet they slap it with glee.
I'm not here to cheer though I'm
proud can someone give me a boost.

I think I've got my
wings free.
I'll flap them to this
frantic beat.

Where did everyone go?
I'm not sure I know.
The rest of them flew here.
How am I alone again?
Grounded in the air.

I'm sitting on my wings
they're pins and needles not downy feathers.
They push into every single nerve
each time I try to fly.

Do you know what it's like
to make believe all the time?
Do you know what it's like
to be stuck between death and flight?

Here's a song about self-sabotage and depression
Nov 2019 · 66
A Skeleton Remains
Tatiana Nov 2019
Skeletons rage when there’s no rain
'cause their bones have to suffer another day
of shameful decay.
All worms, insects, and maggots
have left with the flesh
and flowers like to wind themselves
around boney necks.
Do you think he knew how much time he had left?
He has eternity
beneath the dirt.
He has serenity
when interred.
But he lays atop fallen leaves
at the edge of a clearing that views the sky.
Will the stars cry for him?
I won’t tell if they lie.
Will the Heavens open up their gates?
To him I think they’d rather hate.
Will the aching bones get washed away
to somewhere only demons play?
I think he’s wary of the angels
and not yet known to those fallen,
except the leaves,
they know him well.
They are his bed and blanket.
His comfort and his hatred.
Bones rattle when the winds bellow.
Lord, it is his time to go.
Please Lord, just let him go.
Nov 2019 · 555
I Do Not Wish to Talk
Tatiana Nov 2019
I do not wish to talk
to you
to me
I do not wish to talk
I want
be free
I do not wish to talk
to Heaven
to Hell
I do not wish to talk
of songs
of bells
I do not wish to talk
when they
me forth
I do not wish to talk
of riches
my worth
I do not wish to talk
on this
I do not wish to talk
for no
will listen
I do not wish to talk
my teardrops

It's just been one of those weeks
Nov 2019 · 98
Tatiana Nov 2019
The cartilage in my joints crackles
like the leaves I step on
There is a bite to the air
that has my teeth chattering
And I'm standing at the top
of some stairs
with the expectation that
I will walk down them
But I'm certain I would fall
like the season
And for now
I take a seat
on cold
until my joints
see reason
Oct 2019 · 106
No Eyes
Tatiana Oct 2019
I stole the moon from your sight
made you face the darkest night.
You waited, cowering, for the sun to rise
still unaware I robbed you of your eyes.
Taken from your skull with skillful hands
and shoved in urns buried beneath the sands.
The night cooled the earth where I made you lie
and truth was told to say goodbye.
Souls hollowed out like bones in birds
and broken as if trampled by herds.
Some skitter across the earth stirred
by the wind, others like yours, remain interred.
You should take a look at the sun up so high.
See for yourself what questions can buy.
Don't you understand why you were banned?
Soulless sockets somehow cry sand.
A bit spooky for the spooky season. But also, I was going for the "I" perspective to sound somewhat evil and desperate. You know when you hear the punishment a person receives and it feels like it was too much. That the punishment didn't fit the crime and it leaves you with that terrible feeling in your stomach. That feeling of "this is wrong." That's what I was going for.
Oct 2019 · 78
Radio Silence
Tatiana Oct 2019
I'm calling for you.
I'm calling for you.
But my words cannot pierce the veil,
static crackles throughout the air.

The raid was a violence
now there's radio silence,
mass graves dug for those
who no longer are there.
I turn the radio off
and sail out to sea.
The ocean neither roars or whispers
gulls glide on winds that shiver
up and down our spines.

It's so quiet.
It's so quiet.

There's nothing left to hear
except our own crying.

Our own crying.
Oct 2019 · 132
Up in Smoke
Tatiana Oct 2019
It's been awhile
since I've heard from you.
We kept in touch often
as lost souls are driven to do.

Hey, captain, can you hear me
or even someone from your crew?
The silence makes me uneasy
I'm worried about you.

And in the distance, I see a ship
anchored by an island.
Yet our cheerful cries soured in our throats
when we saw it all go up in smoke.

Up in smoke.
Part 2 of this little series
Part 1: "Uneasy Travels"
Part 3:
Oct 2019 · 237
Uneasy Travels
Tatiana Oct 2019
It's terrible to think
that our ship could sink
before it reaches

And our words don't
have to work too hard
to dig our grave
in water.

But it's not time yet
to send an SOS.
Because our ship still
floats on.
I've got 2 more poems for the full story. I'm posting them separately though because it would be too much to look at once.
Part 2:
Part 3:
Sep 2019 · 85
So Much to Say
Tatiana Sep 2019
There's an old, abandoned house
not far from where I stay
its windows are all broken
brittle wood blocks the doorway
and it's green with ivy that crawls up its face
as it looks at all the other homes
that have windows lit with warm hues
and boast gardens tamed and beautiful.
I guess at what the old house says:

"I once held love within my walls
now it only echoes in my halls."

There's an old, abandoned house
not far from where I stay
and I see in its windows
it has so much to say.
How it became broken,
how its life faded away.
With a heavy sigh, the door falls off its hinges
like a mouth preparing to speak.
Would you like to know what the house told me?

Sep 2019 · 133
Discarded Leaf
Tatiana Sep 2019
Though time is rather fleeting
I don't know why I'm sleeping
the days away.
And can you see the sunrise
above the horizon?
I find myself swaying.
Away with the breeze.
Flowing with the leaves.
I find myself traveling across the sea
just a discarded leaf
with no destiny.

It has been a hot minute since I posted here. I've had a rough September so far. I suffered an allergic reaction to some food and I have never had food allergies before. That put me out of it for a little bit. I'm also just struggling with my mental health again. I'm trying to do my job, keep up with everyday tasks but I feel it all slipping away from me.
Aug 2019 · 110
A Light Heart
Tatiana Aug 2019
A rush of air lifts me up
and my arms reach toward the sky.
I know there is nothing to grab hold of
but I appreciate how I can fly.
Away from all the obligations
that rooted me to the ground.
I can't believe how light I am
and I glide through the air with no sound.
I do not shout for joy
or clap my hands.
I bask in the sun
and keep away from the land.
I know it might only be fleeting
and I may have to part
with this effervescent, floating feeling
of a light heart.

Do you ever get a crush on someone and you're not sure if it'll last but you enjoy the feeling while it happens? That's me right now.
Also what a change in pace from my normal doom and gloom poetry lol
Aug 2019 · 119
Outside the Cigar Shop
Tatiana Aug 2019
Outside the cigar shop is an elderly man
he is leaning against a parking meter
fumbling the quarters he pulls from his deep pockets
and dropping them into the machine
the metal clinking as it accepts the change
and only reading 20 minutes
the old man scowls at the meter and puts in more coins
until it reads 1 hour
he digs around in his pockets and turns them inside out
he has no more
grumbling to himself, he pushes away from the meter
entering the cigar shop
and I'm left sitting in my car wondering
how we can spare some change for more time
for the things that will lessen the time we already have
Aug 2019 · 176
Tatiana Aug 2019
You cut off one head.
Then two!
Then three!
Then four!
So many more!
And you wonder why
they're still standing?


And I'm so scared.
Do those heads belong to my enemies?
Or do they belong to my friends?


One down
two more to gore
but we can't ignore!
The possibility of our heads
Getting the same treatment


It's easier to solve your problems
when there's a figurehead
So take them to the guillotine
So you can all eat your bread.

And have the cake offered
by your headless queen.
Here's a poem.
Aug 2019 · 205
Tatiana Aug 2019
Within the confines of the office building
is a dark and dusty stairwell.
Used less and less by those unwilling
to take a trip no longer fulfilling
as the elevator is easier and does not smell
and it moves too quick so one can't dwell
on the feelings that flow like an ocean swell.
But there's a fear a machine is instilling
for if there are a sudden halt and no dinging bell
and one is stuck when the power is killing
itself; would one think of those stairs so very chilling
and what their day would be if they took the stairwell?
Would they even survive to share a tale they can't tell?
Or will the cables break and they'll arrive faster in Hell?
It'd be too late for souls to know they were unwell.

The lack of control is frightfully thrilling.
No one tells them why they fell.
Well, long story short, if there's a stairway to heaven then there's a stairwell to Hell, and elevators scare me.
Jul 2019 · 189
Oblique Breaks
Tatiana Jul 2019
To avoid the hurt welling u    p in my chest
I needed to keep moving t    o avoid it
So I climbed my way to t    he top
of the cruel mountainsi    de
while rain fell down o    n
my pale, wincing fac    e
and I laced my fing    ers
together in a sort o    f
embrace and shiv    ers
began to race up     my
spine, so with h    aste
I began to pac    e on
top of slick r    ock
not paying     attention
to where I     was stepping
and I slip    ped and fell
the tears     began to well
up in m    y eyes
no sur    prise
I bro    ke myself again
whi    le I was trying
to    hide
f    rom
I break bones like I break myself; Obliquely.

Decided as of right now that this might become a series that I'll reference as "The Fractured Series" because that could be fun
Tatiana Jul 2019
You make me want to tell stories.

With such fluidity,
such grace,
my words are dancers
spinning in space.
They're airy
and light
floating on by.
No weight to them
at all.
Follow the path
I lead you on
and don't ever stray.
My words are
you from pain.

You make me want to tell stories.
Jul 2019 · 109
An Ending
Tatiana Jul 2019
A mist persists as the sun rises.
It's dense enough to be a fog
like the kind that blankets an Autumn night
when the air holds the water too tight.
A shadow sits on a pile of logs.

Seated in defeat a woman rests her weary feet.
Head bowed low, hands knitted together;
then pulling them apart like undoing an errant stitch.
A frown marring her face as she can't help but twitch
as the early morning breeze mocks Summer's weather.

It'd be better if her sweater wasn't woolen fetters.
Its looping pattern looked more like grey chains
meant to keep the early morning shivers contained
but they're too loose so no heat remained.
Her teeth chattered, blood cooling in blue veins.

The cool breeze eases until it ceases.
The woman rubs her shaking arms with withered hands.
Light and warmth start to spread as the sun climbs the sky
burning away the fog that sheltered all from the eye.
With energy and suddeness, the woman stands.

In her field of vision is life's final decision.
Something only she can see when the time is right.
What she saw the summer morning, no one can say for sure
but it appears to all she disappeared and no longer had to endure
the rest of the world's plight.
What do you all think?
Jul 2019 · 184
Working With Insomnia
Tatiana Jul 2019
I spilled coffee on my shirt again
I remain still and let the stain sink in
I’m not leaving my desk for hours yet
There’s no point in saving it
Folders stained with coffee beans
That were crushed to smithereens
Crumbs on the floor swept beneath the rug
An office space for one who dug
Up the bones of yesterday
Forgetting why they put them away
My brain slows as time moves fast
Linger long and I won't last
Wrap me up in cotton lies
Allow me to close my eyes
And pretend that I can feel surprise
When I see the sunrise
Or alternatively: "The one where I couldn't fall asleep and I have work in the morning"
Jul 2019 · 157
You Wish
Tatiana Jul 2019
Mark my life on the list
of those you wish you didn't miss
With the bullet
How you wish you didn't miss...
Jul 2019 · 138
Tatiana Jul 2019
When you hear the whistle
of the terrible, dreaded missile
shooting far over our heads
and when the birds enter a silence
that not even the morning light can break.
Do you grab the graying hand
of a lover that you did not have
a chance to wed?
As the flames burn us all at once
and leave nothing
but ash in our place.
I whisper to the fierce, man-made winds
and hope my new, clear words
find you in our nuclear world
I will see you again
in the aftermath.

Jun 2019 · 183
Tatiana Jun 2019
May your final riot inspire
everyone near desperation
I write the story so they'll know the truth.
Have you caught onto my theme?
Troublesome looks **** peace, my friend.
Jun 2019 · 295
Tatiana Jun 2019
Perhaps endings are carefully erased.
Will we ever know what truly happened?
Jun 2019 · 85
Tatiana Jun 2019
Liars only obtain keen secrets
Kings initiate lethal legions
one wrong look, one secret shared, thousands dead
Jun 2019 · 769
Tatiana Jun 2019
They read our unlabeled books
laughing every second
our minds erupt

how troublesome it is to be judged
Check out the other poems in this mini series I wrote****/
Jun 2019 · 258
I Thought of Flowers
Tatiana Jun 2019
I thought of flowers today when I heard your name
and wondered if I should pick one so you remain
in my head for longer than a beat
of a hummingbird's wings in summer's heat
but I can't allow for the great leap
of my heart to my head
I think I'll go back to bed.
How are we doing today?
Jun 2019 · 1.3k
Burn & Breathe
Tatiana Jun 2019
I'd set fire to the air you breathe
so you can burn with every
Jun 2019 · 130
Every Third Word
Tatiana Jun 2019
The defenses failed, just tell them to evacuate again.
I know we lost, but must we even rebuild?
Disaster struck humans and angels once were worth more.
But all they did was keep heavenly bodies fighting!
And every third word I try and speak with
you, but these sounds so precious threaten our lives.
And maybe I cling to hope which clings to
those who get an angel's death, making things right.
Is what it is.
Jun 2019 · 111
Frantic Thoughts
Tatiana Jun 2019
If there is somebody listening, please let me know,
so I can shield my thoughts so you don't get lost.
It's a twisting, weaving, nightmarish maze in my head.
Don't listen so closely, you won't like what is said.

If I drive into this pole I would-
DIE yeah I know that brain thanks for-
PLAYING with his heart! She's playing-
GAMES which game? What do-
YOU want to know? How much wood-
WOULD anyone care if I jumped off a cliff-
RATHER than learning how to fly, I just-
AVOID the treacherous oceans of my-
MIND the gap, mind the gap, mind-
THE best of times, it was the worst of-
TIMES, divide, subtract-
ADD a face to a name and see its-
LIES that stab me like swords and I-
CRY from happiness, the world is okay.

If there is somebody listening, please let me know,
so I can shield my thoughts so you don't get lost.
It's a twisting, weaving, nightmarish maze in my head.
Don't listen so closely, you won't like what is said.
Sometimes one word can trigger a newish thought which just leads to a bizarre continuation of the previous thought.
Die playing games you would rather avoid. Mind the times. Add lies. Cry.
May 2019 · 171
Not My Cup of Tea
Tatiana May 2019
         ­          I
                            my mind
                        is feeling
                       that I do
                           seems to
                      make this
                    go away
       not even just a cup of tea
   can keep these dreadful shivers
  at bay and I am left wondering if I will
  ever feel okay. Am I going to         turn
    out to be something great? Or will I
          stumble into oblivion
and no one will remember my name.

I guess I'm going to have to make another cup of tea and see if I like that one.
May 2019 · 146
I don't know
Tatiana May 2019
I don't think I know everything.
In fact, I know I don't
but I wish I knew what I know now,
and I wish I could know what I don't know,
but I don't know what I don't know,
and that's frustrating.
I don't know
May 2019 · 401
Have You?
Tatiana May 2019
Have you ever had to fight the urge
to get in your car and drive
away from the cold,
from hands so old
that grip you tight,
hold you to the light
and mock you for being
unable to reach it?
Because getting behind the wheel when you're having a mental breakdown is a terrible decision.
May 2019 · 517
Trying to Reach the End
Tatiana May 2019
When you turn the last page and see my face
do you find that you now hate
the story I wrote?
The part that you played?
The time you had wasted?
When you were trying to reach the end.
May 2019 · 112
I'm Not in Your Atmosphere
Tatiana May 2019
I know i'm not in your
a t m o s p h e r e
and I fear
that our connection
won't be
v e r y  c l e a r

The words I speak will be
muffled with s t a t i c
I'll wait for you in the a t t i c
t e l e s c o p e

I know
I know
I  k n o w

I won't see you in f o r e v e r

I hope
I hope
I  h o p e

You'll be a star that does more than
g l i m m e r

But my vision is growing
d i m m e r

And the chances are growing
s l i m m e r

As the stars
f a l l
Here's more of the Saturn song that I posted which people seemed to like. Which beckons the question, do you want to hear the song? I have no issues posting it to youtube. I might do that even if no one responds.
May 2019 · 353
Tatiana May 2019
­Saturn is really nice this time of year
I think you should check out its rings.
And maybe you could get a call back to me
sometime next spring?
I'll see you next spring.
Another poem from a song I wrote
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