Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 4 · 297
Acina Joy Mar 4
We're just paintings
on a plaster wall,
where chips fall
to the linoleum floor,

where we sweep aside
the love and the loss,
our prayers that we cuss
when we have nothing more.

Our exhibit is open
to the ****** and the wicked
and all the good and the naked;
those who blindly trust.

Our love chips off
but we are fine with that
for we never look back
pretending to say, "we must."

In years, maybe
when we're fading and old;
ripped off the frame,fold,
when we're hastily stashed away —

If we were humans,
who could move, love, kneel
kiss and frame, and steal,
please ask me: "would you stay?"

And, yes.
Yes, I would, anyway.
Jan 31 · 161
To you and to me.
Acina Joy Jan 31

Soft and tender,
mild as can be,
I miss it, this burn, this ache;
long for this touch, this heart,
it anticipates;
to you and to me

Dec 2020 · 174
Acina Joy Dec 2020
I cried again, at the thought of her
in between all the drifting stars.
I cried again, at the thought of her
in between my throbbing scars.

I asked my papa, when it'd leave
when my pain would finally stop,
but he shook his head in reprieve,
and from his mouth came a cough,

"It never leaves, only dulls,
never hardens, but never is the same;
you're my daughter, my only daughter,
you and I, we share a pain

Mama, I cried, at the thought of her,
especially on the day when I left;
I came back into your loving arms,
and from my mouth, I finally wept.
wonder where they are now
Acina Joy Dec 2020

Is it me?
Or is there something
between us
that you don't see?

it's tragic to know everything else beyond their name
Dec 2020 · 166
If I Break My Enclosure
Acina Joy Dec 2020

If I could break out of my enclosure
Is there a moment of reprieve
From the horrors you've shielded
Me from?
Or will the skies crumble,
And the oceans drain down
To the very basin,
And will the earth break under me,
Until it knows my name?
Will your world be destroyed
When I break this enclosure?
And if so, will it still be as beautiful,
As you said?

Early morning poetry and god forbid, another person to cry over
Acina Joy Nov 2020
Sometimes, I wish I've never known you;
where you've come from, where you've been.
I wish you were just a void,
with no knowledge to love,
and with no knowledge to hate.

But because of you,
I have a name to adore,
and a person to despise.
Because of you, there are places to which I want to return to,
and there are places to which I am reluctant to arrive.

Your words have always been writhing thorns,
on a beautiful wreath of roses, and I love them -
for what they are, for what they mean;
for how they make me look and feel,
but the knowledge of them hurts me.
The knowledge of them breaks me.

By the gods, I love you, but I hate you on me.

And when I look at you, I wish to kiss you from a distance.
When I look at you, I am torn - disembodied between
my love and the fractured memories.
When I look at you - you give me a name to
agonize over, when the days are empty,
and my heart seems full.

When I look at you, there are reasons why I hate to love you.

And god, do I miss you. When the words blend
into the grains of the wall,
and your face becomes the back of my eyelids,
I can't help but let my heart bleed dry.

God knows how I hate loving you.
i hate it. i dont know if what i really feel is what i say it is, but man, it feels like it, and i cant shake it. i miss them. miss them so much, that my heart could combust and join the ashes of the sun.
Nov 2020 · 235
Your Love Leaves Marks.
Acina Joy Nov 2020
When you hung the decor from the rafters,
       and built these walls with the prints of your fingers;
             proceeded to line the floors with flowers, wedged into gaps,
                  that were inconspicuous until each bud and shoot grew

Speak to me, everything you wanted to say;
          feeble may it be with the dull edge of your knife,
                softened by the mishandled touch of your previous lovers,
                        delicate from your pain, so you learned to be silent -
                                                            ­               never swift, never sure.

Your silent words fluttered in and out of sight,
    seared into my home like the etch of fire on word,          
         ingrained till the grains were no longer marks, but my haven
                       please tell, for a long time I've known, all this is true.
love is almost like a tumble by the stairs - up and down, and landing somewhere in between
Nov 2020 · 687
To the Golden Moon
Acina Joy Nov 2020
Out by silver rocks
And fjords of solid ice,
to the golden moon's marrow,
lay an extended hand, harrowed
In draws of every breath, followed
All in desperation, borrowed
A  forsaken dove, it cries
To the golden moon, it flies.
Oct 2020 · 245
Acina Joy Oct 2020
There are steel shears
in your lying hands
and a dress of hedges and thorns
that are my shielding woods.
In the back of my mind, as you hack
away at my limbs and marrow,
cut through bone and sinew;
I pray your blades grow dull
in what is left of me,
for steel simply rusts,
while I simply grow.
Oct 2020 · 233
Homegrown Ache
Acina Joy Oct 2020
Seeds grow, and vines climb,
and thorns burrow, and intertwine
to bury deep, in flesh and grime—
homegrown— this ache and time.
Oct 2020 · 209
I am glad.
Acina Joy Oct 2020
I'm glad I never met your face;
I'm glad  you're far from home;
I'm glad our meetings never came,
so I could cry in bed alone.

I'm glad our worlds were not the same;
I'm glad we  had our different zones;
Of time and space; of heart and mind—
of suffering—all which is my own.

For if we met, and found each other
Mapped every corner, bend, and contour,
I'd find I'd regret the day that I met you,
since seeing you would've hurt me more.
Oct 2020 · 387
Flood the Rabbit Hole.
Acina Joy Oct 2020
If I fall down a rabbit hole,
once or twice,
is it deliberate, or a mistake?
Am I being too nice?

I peer over the edge,
and throw my feelings down asunder;
hope it floods the rabbit hole,
as clouds rumble with thunder.

But it floats to the top,
and now, I have my own wishing well,
with bunny carcasses, snakes, egg shells,
oh well.

Empty it, bucket by bucket;
burry each skeleton in a bed of flowers,
until there is no evidence
of the feelings that I cower.

And rumble, comes the next thunder,
before I even wake.
I've stumbled down the rabbit hole
again, it floods the gate.
i've caught feelings for someone right across the world from me. it's time that i crush those feelings once more.
Jul 2020 · 326
Puzzles and Patience
Acina Joy Jul 2020
We are all jigsaw puzzles,
wanting to fit and to belong,
so if I rearrange the pieces
of my still broken heart,
please be patient with me.
If I have to coerce my heart
into the right place in mind,
please be patient with me.
If I have to rearrange
a real, proper smile for you,
please be patient with me.
(And if I have to turn my head
to properly kiss you,
please be patient with me
I think I should learn how
to hold back sometimes
Acina Joy May 2020
For all the sake of confinement,
and rules, and laws, and all that is in motion,
my heart rattles in its cage and roars
like a beast, defying human nature.
In a matter of a second,
I succumb to fury. I am rage
juxtaposed to a calm face.
I wail and tear apart the truth,
limb by limb, for denial paves way
to the entrance of my home.

It lives with me, dines with me, sleeps with me;
a welcome resident within my haven.
For when you live through the ways of love,
and love in spite, (instead of loving for the sake
of loving yourself
) only to be loved
because of your monetary value and
the vanity gracefully done on your face,
betrayal is strong and denial is natural.

For all the sake of confinement,
and rules, and laws, and all that is in motion,
even in most literature, we see,
only these people come to know love.

On the other hand,
when you are loved despite not having
money, looks, power, and influence,
they tell us it is blind, and sad.
Because our faces are not on LED screens,
and news outlets, or tabloids, or
made into a film adaptations,
in comparison, our love
is fleeting, and non-existent.

For all the sake of confinement,
and rules, and laws, and all that is in motion,
even in the love we see from those around us,
we are also told this is where love is, or where
it can never be found.

So beauty or no beauty; money or no money,
power or no power; some will never be loved and some will still be loved. As human as it is for us to deny, it is natural as well,
for human beings to defy and change and have different capacities to be loved.

So, love as if no screen can ever behold its depth.
just a thought.
May 2020 · 245
Cords and Ribbons.
Acina Joy May 2020
In cords and ribbons;

she does not speak.
People don't know whether to
scoff, or to pity, both maybe.
Yet she continues,
her tongue clicking,
her hands swift and nimble,
as she cuts up her little heart
and neatly wraps each one
into a package with a small,
small love letter.

Simple words, straight forward
and easy to decipher, with
meaning so plain and tangible.
Her tongue clicks, words still
quiet, her fingers folding the envelope
so delicately. Scissors lay on the table,
for cutting bits and pieces of herself
into each small package.

She hopes, with the light of a candle
and a flicker of a match stick,
that people would notice
her silent devotion.
Would not scoff, nor pity.
Hoped they'd smile and laugh,
as they read each part of her;
saw each part of her;
noticed each part of her—

that were all in cords and ribbons.
I can't help myself
May 2020 · 195
Let Him Rest.
Acina Joy May 2020
In the height of a wave,
In the peak of a storm,
In the quiet of a moment,
In the heart that was torn;
Lay a moment of such wonder,
Lay a moment so profound,
Lay a moment so somber,
Lay a man in the ground;
People say that he was drunk,
People say that he was lost,
People say that he was kind,
People say that he was rough;
They whispered he had hurt,
They whispered he had God,
They whispered he had sinned,
They whispered he had none;
But it did not change the man,
It did not change the dead,
It did not change he loved,
It did not change how we would end.
Apr 2020 · 273
Loneliest Roads
Acina Joy Apr 2020
I've seen the same roads,
those that lead nowhere
or cut into an end here,
reaching the edge of a mountain,
or to the lip of the sea,
or fading off into dust
and growing darker into
grainy asphalt—
that somehow hurts.

The roads straighten and curve,
and stretch and narrow,
and bend and break,
and crack just as it is filled
in between the seems.
They intertwine,
and meet in the middle,
and lead off somewhere,
like the t-boning of a barelling car,
going 40 on a 25.

The saddest roads are always short,
yet seeming endless in a moment
of brief contact.
The same speed,
the same view, and the same
edge by the sea, passing like
two stray boats at night.
The loneliest roads are parallel;
equal in distance, that can never touch. Side by side in meeting,
and always apart when leaving.

The loneliest roads taper off,
and stare at emptiness.
Paralell roads never meet,
and will always stay the same.

The loneliest roads between us
are just a few feet apart—
always infinite miles away.
I feel lonely
Acina Joy Mar 2020
Her movements are economies
of grace and tandem, smooth
like stream water yet strong
like ash and fire.
She is relentless like storms and floods,
the fires that burn through woods
and tremors that wreck the earth into a ruin.

She kisses my brow like the touch of sunlight,
and burns brighter than solar flares
in the infinite darkness of the void and the
other stars. She hugs me like the universe,
and leaves no place untouched,
yet she is boundless; unexplored, alive,
and growing. There's so much more to
find and search for each day.

No man can touch her, and no man
can have her. She only gives and gives,
and gives, for it is all that she knows.
Men can steal her shine, they can steal
the wonder in her eyes.
And yet, they will never have her.

God may have woven her out of man,
but men can never hold her captive,
like the bone God took out of Adam
to make Eve. There is a reason,
only women can hold such life
and destruction; there is a reason why
only they hold wombs and have hearts
that melt even the strongest of steel.

Women are worlds within themselves,
that men can never touch.
If they've let you into their world,
cherish such an honor to be let
into their universe. Chance is,
the seat she's reserved for you
will never be the same again
stay strong girls <3
Acina Joy Feb 2020
In the course of the world's creation,
I've seen you somewhere, or everywhere, all at once.  

You mapped the stars by my side, when I didn't know where they were or what they were named.

You told me about fascinating little things that walked and lived, and breathed, with such enthusiasm, I began to learn that they existed with such amazement.

You formed nonsense of words, so ridiculous, you  made me question the peak of human intelligence.

You showed me gestures so small, or words that required no enunciation, I learned how silence spoke louder than our words.

You taught me so much, that eventually, I knew the feeling inside of me that grew in my chest, I no longer needed your assistance to name such.

Somewhere, everywhere, all at once, you were in the course of the world's creation.

The moment I took notice, the world stopped revolving.

And in that moment, it was just you and I.
Feb 2020 · 272
I'm Sorry
Acina Joy Feb 2020
Hey, I'm sorry
For not telling  you beforehand
I'm sorry
If I somehow make a mistake
I'm sorry
If I somehow hurt you again
I'm sorry
If I keep on loving you

But, you don't have to forgive me.
You really don't have to.
Acina Joy Feb 2020
The living room is silent,
and my fingers are cold.
Have you come by in awhile?
Have you chewed on your nails,
pacing by the porch, before you brushed the brass knocker
with your rough knuckles?

The woolen blanket is missing,
from the back of my office chair.
I remember you stole it as a significant memento for yourself, when you stormed out. Your words knocked ice
deep into my throat, until it caused me
to lose the right words, to help you stay. Keep the demons at bay. The woolen blanket rarely helped,
unless I pressed the cloth into your
tired shoulders.

Do you miss me?
Does my touch still linger?
Sometimes, I see you across the street,
and frost grows at the edge of my glasses; a silent fury benign of threat,
but full of pain, making my bones creak and my back tingle. Makes my teeth chatter, and sweat build.

I still wonder,
when I peered behind the peephole,
to your bent head that looked
at your wavering hand by the brass knocker, scared to knock at the door.
Did you still love me back then?
Did you miss the press of my palms, and the kiss I gifted your forehead?
Was there still a remaining shred of love, left there for me?

But the living room remains silent,
and my fingers are cold.
When I see you across the street,
my heart drops, and your shoulders
are heavy, with or without the
woolen blanket. My glasses fog,
and every time I look into
the tiny peephole, not a single shadow remains there, for me to see.

Between the street, and porch of mine
that seems to rot away into the years of its growth, the rift only grows farther and farther apart, that even sorry cannot begin to cover the ravine between us.

I clench my cold fingers and cry, the day I finally acknowledged my futile efforts.

Between the porch and my brass knocker. Between you and the door.

Somehow, our love ended here.
Feb 2020 · 234
Acina Joy Feb 2020
you've filled every thought in my head
that you follow me back from home into bed.
I worry about who I'll be when I'm dead,
when all that I am is just of you instead.
I've let you into my heart, until all that I beat was for you.
Feb 2020 · 275
Acina Joy Feb 2020
Comes his waking breath
against my pinched face
in the early morning hour
of our lofty, soft embrace.
He pulls the sheets like the tide
of a sad twinkling moon,
making sure to hold me warm,
so that I won't leave so soon.
Feb 2020 · 270
Endless Matter
Acina Joy Feb 2020

The universe out there
grows far beyond our reach
every second, every breath,
every step, and every minute
of our counting days.
In those little moments,
stars are born, planets die,
galaxies stretch even further,
and the skies stay blue as the world
beyond grows farther than we can
ever comprehend.

Yet, somehow, the world
seems to stop, and hold its breaths,
as it narrows itself down
to you. Your wondrous spirit,
debilitating mind, and your kind,
kind heart.

Though the world may be expanding, growing ever far and wide. You're a world within this world, unbound by time, endless.
Acina Joy Jan 2020
I brush your love,
and I am in a tizzy;
feet bare and loose
on the grass and soil,
reaching the far stretches
of land like the sea;
skies dappled with
large clouds, as blue and clear
as a baby's set of eyes;
love so deep and cavernous,
and wedged deep into the earth,
a depth of which I could not fathom;
strong and mischievous like the wind
in a storm of your emotions,
wrecking civilizations like they were
made out of paper.

You left me in awe
when you told me that
your love was boundless
like the universe.

So imagine my surprise
about the depth of your love
when I had once underestimated it
so much. When I brushed you off
like lint on my coats and shirts. Not
deeming you worthy of my time, as I watched you move and love another.

I have never stated that the love I had witnessed was ever mine.
Hi, im back
Acina Joy Dec 2019
After you, I've had the urge
to finally cut my hair
that ended beneath my waist
and looked good with
shoulders bare.

The length of it stretched on
and it reminded me of you.
The same endless cycle,
you'd always split off
into two.

Colours have faded now,
leaving the carcass of a strand.
A fraud of what it truly was,
growing under your demands.

But I face the mirror now,
as scissors went where you've dwelt.
My mother hacked away my hair
until I looked more like myself.
I got a hair cu t XD
Nov 2019 · 243
To Another Friend
Acina Joy Nov 2019

I find it easy to make friends, sometimes.

I befriend those around me.

Those who move too fast, those who drag so slow.

Those who change, those who shift and realign.

Those who smile, those who cry.

Some who are a mix of both.

The hardest to befriend are those who care so little; lost within themselves, forgotten like a dream.

Those who refuse to be held, to be cared for.

Those who take the terrifying edge into oblivion.

Sometimes, befriending ourselves can be quite the challenge.

Nov 2019 · 227
We Never Change.
Acina Joy Nov 2019
Remember those small ***** that wash up at shore,
in the event of a low-tide?

I am those *****, and you are the tides.
I lay buried beneath a surface of fine grains,
salvageable in your grasp. I wait, live with you,
call to you like a tenant to their home.
I descend into your hold, unknowing, or rather,
forgetting that you change.

You always do.

You are the tides, always shifting and moving;
slow to recede, fast to return. You hold me close,
take what is dear to me. You press, and you pull,
and you push, push, push, bringing everything
with you. Always leaving nothing for me.

I lay open, bare, confused by my lack of home,
discarded like a stone, left to search for you
into deeper waters.

When you come back, you are new;
perhaps warmer, or perhaps colder,
depends on where you've been. Where
your currents always travel.  It always
depends on where you've been, but your
current had brought with it my filter of grains,
the white stark sand. The place I rested,
and where I deemed my home.

And you left it somewhere far beyond my reach,
apathetic to my struggle.

With your new presence, you leave me to burrow once more,
either shallower or deeper than before, in grainy arms
and lulling currents, making me anticipate when you would
leave again. Because I always have to find a new way to fix and
build my home, when the only thing you've ever done is make
me wait for you to come back.

And I am always surprised of the fact that I always stay.
Acina Joy Nov 2019
Somehow, words bleed into the night,
and your voice is on the other end of my ear.

I know, my form lacks beauty, and the way I confess lacks grace or dignity that comes with the frail women you like. I know my antics are somewhat crude, and I still am a mystery to myself.

But fulfillment is having your chest stuffed with the sky and a bed of flowers. It is having 2am filled with your laughter, and their laughter. It is forgetting all beauty, all grace, all that binds misconceptions in the world, and leaving only your heart, theirs, and the love that you give.

Funny stories fill the room, hearts quiver with the truth. And the next day that we meet, we play with our friends, you cover my eyes and laugh, and I try to pull your hand away. You tap your forehead against my shoulder, and miss the way my heart beats.

Your smile is beautiful, I think.

And though a small part of me still wants their love, they're still here. We don't say my affections out loud after that night, but they respect me, and I respect them.

And isn't the person I love so wonderful?
I confessed to my best friend finally, and though they dont see me the same way, he still holds me close and loves me as a friend, and this makes me love them more.
Sep 2019 · 169
I Do Care.
Acina Joy Sep 2019
Come on, tell me
the secrets you hold
the weight of your world
before you go cold,

I don't want to leave you
right here in the dark
when you've left a feeling
so clear and so stark,

You're so void of wonder
and now you're alone
You leave me at sidewalks
as you go and walk home,

You're falling apart
with your shards on the ground
But I do really need you
and I won't rest till you're found.
Sep 2019 · 582
Acina Joy Sep 2019
I open the door.

It creaks open,
and my fingers tremble at the ****.
Beyond the small window,
and the pounding of my heart.

We are close enough,
and my words are lodged up somewhere-
all at once!

I want to say hello, for you to smile my way.
The yearning in my heart grows stronger,
but aren't we just friends? Can't I just say it?

So why, why, why,
is my body frozen to the door?
To the side?
As you pass by?

I need to move somehow,
just a little bit, *please

But you open another door.

And it closes.
I just wanted to say hello, yet your back only said goodbye.
Sep 2019 · 298
The Sky and the Land
Acina Joy Sep 2019
We were a country that lived near the equator;
I was the land and you were my infinite sky.
We have lived and witnessed our aeons together.
Each moment fleeting, and passing by.  

The wind whispers, and the creatures rumble
weeping for me the unfair weather I hold
Only the dry seasons and the rainy seasons come by
and the sky, he's always done what he's always told.

When he cries, he creates floods and storms
or peaceful drizzles and ditz so plain
and when's angered, he takes right up
the moistened land and then grants me pain.

At night, he's terribly beautiful and quiet
the stars twinkle like stickers on my attic
The silent love, and the prolonged memories
and what he holds, goes far beyond semantics.

I sung, "Precious sky, I am your earth
the land you watch with clouds and dew
And he replied, "Pretty land, you are my purpose
and there's nothing to take me from you
Acina Joy Sep 2019
I'm a quiet woman.
A dangerous one at that.
Give me love, and it's dangerous
for a woman like me.

I don't burn men;
I don't provoke women.
I don't mount weights on my shoulders,
I don't move castles just for myself.

I'm a quiet woman.
A dangerous one,
that once you give me love,
I will swallow lit matches
into my gas-filled lungs
and breathe fire
to my terrible world
to burn, burn, burn
and rub ash on my skin,
hoping it will fix my aching heart.

Hope peace for a dangerous woman like me.
Hope nothing else will fall apart.
hope you enjoyed your day today
Sep 2019 · 223
Acina Joy Sep 2019
Suddenly, there's more than distance and heat. There's your heart and your soul.

Inside your embrace, and your thrumming flesh. There's more, there's more, I want to know.
I find this feeling pleasant.
Acina Joy Aug 2019
I've met him twice; for months; and now years, into jubilees.
His name is Gabriel, and he means regret (in the language my heart only began to speak after him).

The way I know him, sinks deep into my soul like a splinter, hurting me more as he burrows. He refuses to love; is willing to be cared for. Never returns, doesn't even borrow, but nonetheless, he takes, and takes, and takes. He is a selfish man, the regret I've named Gabe.

We once held hands, and when I looked into his eyes, I poured my soul into the void he called his heart. And he took that love-and took it all, all, all and then gave it away.

My heart learned how to write songs because of Gabe. It broke, and it learned, and it began to write as if the endless words I wrote were expectant of the love he never gave; for the hurt he always seemed to be generous upon.

And I drank it all up, with a pinky held high, and he was not made of the substance I thought him to be.  But Gabe was a lesson, was an epiphany, was an age-old history (of aeons of regret).

Yet, he was once the substance that had made me.

A bitter heartbreak over a cup of tea.
Weird long title, but eh, enjoy
Aug 2019 · 536
Here Comes the Rain
Acina Joy Aug 2019
The rain comes.

A lover cries.
A farmer rejoices.
A lost man is renewed.
A friend has been taken.

Wherever you are, wherever you've been. It is the same.

The rain comes.
If you want an anime recommend, watch Dororo, and specifically, episode 6. I got inspiration from there. :((
Aug 2019 · 240
A Hero's Speech
Acina Joy Aug 2019
I wish we could all be traditional heroes from way back then, who answered to people's beck and call. But now we've blurred the line between suffering and falsehood, and just as people can scoff at the silenced weak, the words of our present heroes can be as soothing as whispering to a festered wound.
Promise is not in words, but in actions.
Aug 2019 · 263
It Once Was
Acina Joy Aug 2019

I denied it.

(It isn't love. It isn't love. It isn't love. It isn't love.)

I mean, it was.

Aug 2019 · 277
Said the kind man,
Acina Joy Aug 2019
"Hear me out, and listen. This is a bad thing, or not necessarily, I know, but you love and you let go when you don't. Why do they blame you? Why do they bother you so? It's because of the fact that they can't get over a love that they so desperately hold onto. I mean, it's understandable to never let go of that love. But is it ever love if  you don't wish for their happines?

Wish for  yours?"
And with a smile, he says farewell to the soul who eagerly listened.
Aug 2019 · 420
Acina Joy Aug 2019

What do we have left to protect,
when a reason ceases to exist?

watching aot at night, and having flashbacks
Aug 2019 · 160
Acina Joy Aug 2019
Madeline walks the sun,
falling all apart
to the beat she drums.

Take me far away,
is what she breathes
despite her dismay.

Hold both my hands
he takes a breath
to neverland.

Then they breathe as one,
Madeline walks the sun.
Jul 2019 · 399
I want you to love me back.
Acina Joy Jul 2019
We fill them with love, and love, and love—

then they are filled with love to share with someone else.
Jul 2019 · 240
Acina Joy Jul 2019

There is no wound deeper than the love that we carve.

He turned to ask me, voice accusing and eyes holding a sense of betrayal.  "Did you tell all the rest of them? About my secret?" His voice never wavered, as if not even hesitating to accuse me (because I was the first person he ever told this secret about). Hurt washed over my chest, and it pressed down, slowly crushing my heart somehow. I was surprised not to have teared up a little, but nevertheless, it was painful to be accused by the person you trust the most.

"No, I didn't," I snapped, rightfully so, offended from his accusation. "I defended you from them, and told you not to tell them, or else they'd tell everyone else in class. Why are you even accusing me when you knew the risks all along?"

I stared up at him, expecting an apology for his accusation, or maybe even a bit of embarrassment or shame. But he narrowed his eyes even more, voice unconvinced and nonchalant, that it nearly made me flinch. "Yeah, right."

And he turned around and didn't look back. And the moment he did, I knew he would never love me, the same way I loved him; with all my heart and soul, that even if he hurt me, I still forgive him to this day, for not trusting me back and loving me the same way he does a stranger.

The same way I wipe away tears to help him gain the stranger he wanted.

I forgive him for leaving me behind.
Jul 2019 · 197
Acina Joy Jul 2019
Bravery is swallowing iron, belly pooling with lava, as I face towards the horizon. Death croons and taunts, offering their hand, and I give no response.

"There is time for that, but not now. Not yet."

I watch the horizon grow, before I feel Death's icy hands on my neck.
Acina Joy Jul 2019
The tips of her lashes
were silver like rainfall,
and her hair was the sea at night,
her flesh was the clouds
obscuring the warmth of the sun,
and her teeth were the glinting knives.

No obsidian dark
could outshine her eyes,
and her words were a painful storm.
The more she breathed,
a new star awoke,
and in the darkness, I grew forlorn.
falling, falling, falling into the darkness of love.
Jul 2019 · 128
we love, we live, we leave.
Acina Joy Jul 2019
we loved,
and kisses were butterflies,
hugs were butter on toast,
and sunshine was food to the soul
as we loved and was loved the most.
we lived,
and years were but mere moments,
lives were just as opaque as mist,
as seconds lasted morbidly slow eternities,
passing the bits of memories we missed.
we left,
too early for man to heal,
footsteps so light, without simple sound,
lived years of love and pain away,
making me think, "were you even around?"
love, live, leave.

Jul 2019 · 161
23 Messages.
Acina Joy Jul 2019
Big and bold, in the likeness of capital words
burning through my lids:
"WE ARE DATING NOW!" screams at me
in the darkness.
Tell me why, what little happiness that
resided in my diminutive heart, died down without a sound?
I should be happy; smile graceful, heart light as always,
to know that you have found someone.
He deserves you, and you deserve him.
My feelings don't matter, put way beyond the display,
behind, behind, behind.
You matter to me, and come forward
before everything I know and feel,
metallic taste on my tongue,
heart bursting every so slowly,
yet now, I say otherwise.

The screen remains dark throughout the night.

(23 messages from Your Favourite Girl)
lovely feelings growing in my chest,
roots keep ripping through the mess
Jun 2019 · 279
Acina Joy Jun 2019
I climb,
in the lip of monsters,
in the best of demons,
rock, fire, ash,
skin dark and flaking,
tongue to the roof,
feet scraping,
to the precipice,
of here and there,
to before, into beyond
"in love"--
"into death".
love can maybe be too much
Jun 2019 · 200
Unhealthy Habit.
Acina Joy Jun 2019
Shards scatter the kitchen floor;
Joel Adams plays through the radio.
Hearts chained down, wrists throbbing.
Phantoms appear, knocking the lungs empty.
He?--She?--Them; they appear on the table,
where guests are supposed to sit. The counter,
the couch, the bedroom (where guests are not supposed to be).

(But you reminisce, they're not guests anymore.)

The shelves are cold--freezing even, like a snow storm
has passed by. Not only that, but the pillows, notebooks,
that spot on the floor, the jacket, their mug.
Every single thing they've touched, it freezes every time,
and it stays.

Yearning for warmth no longer there.
Fire no longer burns, heat but a necessity.
But there is eternal warmth in the body;
the blood. The kitchen is scattered with shards of
mug, and where warmth is found in blood, fingers
squeeze onto pieces of glass.

Once again, it is warm, it is relief.

You feel warm again.
But where blood and body meet, there is no end nor beginning.
Where there was, there is.

(It's always been like this.)
UCSP class dried me.
Jun 2019 · 196
Just One Question
Acina Joy Jun 2019
The words are not the same anymore,
wrapped in meanings that are concepts far
beyond my eyes, that fall upon my lips,
empty and bitter and fading.

My poems are like foreign aspects of my life now,
disappearing under my finger tips without further
notice, kneaded into the paper under my palms
and leaving me slowly, dreadfully, painfully.

Who am I now, that my voice has waned?
That the moon on my tongue no longer revolves,
with the earth and the sun, left trap in a desolate darkness
filled with brighter supernovas, and wanton galaxies.

Who am I now?
That the thread of my being has frayed,
and slipped, and weaved, through the contours of the universe,
as I slip easily through the cracks without being chased;
without being noticed (and I regret and regret, and regret, because I wish that they had).

Who are we, now that I'm gone,
and that you've gone with another? That you've followed
in their footsteps, left me, with one foot entering my grave?
With a rough necklace dangling across my collar? With silver lining your eyes, and with an exuberance that comes with letting go?

What are we now, that my poems no longer hold the essence of me,
as it remains to long for you? What are we, that we no longer hold what was once dear for us? What are we now, that the physical form of who I am remains to fade alongside your death? What are we, when all that remains of our past selves are gone?

Who are you?
we have to move on once in awhile, but I can't help but think of you sometimes (or most of the time).
Next page