"idealizing" poems
1. Like smoke in my lungs, it is an acquired taste that I could not bring myself to quit. And now that I have, the flavor is unprecedentedly toxic.
2. Your name is merely a catalyst to my relapse. You turned your head away from it then, and I know you will turn your head away from it now.
3. To hear that beautiful arrangement of letters coming from my own lips only reminds me of the genuine smile on your face that you can only have when I am gone. And every time it makes me wonder if I truly mean it when I say I am happy for you.
4. I cannot reconcile what is with what could have been. Maybe if I was still yours and you were still mine, it would be endearing to say your name.
5. When it's 4 am and I am falling apart in my half empty bed, I cannot find the breath to utter your name between sobs.
6. I have spent too much time pretending that your absence has had no affect on me that I have not yet grieved. But, I could never pity myself without shouting your name into an empty void.
7. Maybe I am only idealizing you, but his name left a bitter taste and I have been craving yours on my lips.
8. I cannot say your name because I know that if you were to turn your head in recognition, I'd get lost in those blue eyes and fall for you all over again.
9. There is no logic behind how I inherited the right to say your name. Since you have left, this complacency is eating me alive and I am only left to wonder why someone so beautiful would have ever touched a soul like mine.
10. I cannot speak of your name any longer because it is no longer my privilege. It is hers to say now.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
If you let him love you
You will have to say goodbye to me
And haven’t I been faithful?
Haven’t I been the one who was still
There when everyone else left you
Just as I told you they would leave you?
See, they all go away
They all call out “I loved you best”
And drive away with tear filled eyes
Something will ruin this “love” you
think you have found, if not,
I will show you how to do it
You can only be loved from afar
Romanticized and longed for
The woman he loved, but could never have
Soon, he will see that he was just
Idealizing you, and you are no different
From any other woman
Or else he will get scared of all this
Vulnerability and run away,
But either way, he WILL run away
I promise, my love, trust my words,
You are MY closest friend, MY lover
What would you be without me?
Since the day you were born
I have told you the truth
Sorry inner voice, break-ups are a *****
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
asleep
only acknowledged when awake
trapped
seems so easy once above
the labyrinth
of physicality
illusory creations
of geometric energy.
Lost
in the wired perception of reality
forgetting
that all was taught was taught by teachers
teaching what was taught to them
not knowing the alteration
and miscommunication
developing over the generations.
only reactions
that is what defines me
how I respond
in certain situations
how I speak and spew
opinions I heard elsewhere
plagiarizing ideas
that never really belonged to anyone
I, me, the abstract concept of "Malachi"
is an
algorithm!
a mathematical program designed to optimize relations
with continuity to any situation provided
I, concept
sleep soundly in my dream
hating, complaining, idealizing
while all opportunities
pushed my way
are ignored
for I slumber
I gave my freedom long ago
to become an automated machine
a complex voice-mail
an entity who never picks up the phone
never responding consciously
trapped in the spell of samsara
identifying with the machine
lost in the maze
no guaranteed escape
even though the exit is under my nose
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
Stricken with, like fate.
Idolizing. Idealizing.
What makes it so?
Curiosity to obsession.
Obsession to love?
What is love?
Sought after, like gold.
Idolizing me.
Yet none to succeed but for a fleeting moment.
I envy those with their beloveds.
Even those whom have suffered loss, but still love.
Emptiness.
Craving the “good” feelings.
Like fantasies. Wanting someone who isn’t real.
Never to give wounds time to heal.
To invalidate, or embrace?
If I don’t know what is real
And if I don’t know who I am,
Do I follow my heart?
Or is naivety my wander?
What I seek is never mine to keep.
All stories are read, not written.
Not written by me.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 10:46 AM UTC
whenever somebody reminds me of you, i consider how our roles
were like margo and quentin from paper towns. you loved mystery
novels so much, i'm sure you became one yourself. at one point, i
wholeheartedly believed you were this unattainable celestial being
completely confined in your paper skin. then i realized something,
do you remember that day you called me your best friend as a joke
and the same day, you talked so much **** about me? it made me
realize you were right. you are a part of the ****** people living in
their **** houses burning **** to stay warm, since you like to talk
**** what was i expecting? of course, you're a high schooler. to
think that before my 21st birthday, i was quentin in the way i
admired you from afar, idealizing you as a god and dismissing
everybody else as animals. i preferred to let our paths cross in
my dreams. there were many times our strings crossed, separated,
and then came back together. although i don't have the drive to
chase you across border lines, i would skateboard miles after miles
of desert terrain just to have that opportunity to see you. realizing
it now, being friends with you was a ******* trap. to portray myself
as someone you would prefer to be friends with was difficult, since
you didn't really seem to like anybody all that much anyway. our roles
were strictly platonic, but the days stretched out seemed almost phantasmagoric. our strings that were knotted together so tightly broke
through and through, and none of us would have expected that i'd be
wanting to drive across border lines to stretch the distance out between
me and you, kind of like the way you stretched me out. as i'm slowly
undiscovering you, little by little, i'm realizing the way you think about
a person isn't the way they actually are. people are different when you
smell them and see them up close. now i'm addressing everyone that i
previously ignored because of you, and dismissing you as an animal. i
would rather live in my paper house than have to live with your ****
- kra
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
Imperfect timing and missed chances, torn up couches and realized fears. Wandering streets with names that weren't important. Time meant more with you.
What ifs and happen stances, products of an idealizing mind. Realization of grandiose fears. Words from you held more weight.
Hanging on every word. Wanting to tell you, I think you're scars are beautiful.
We were catching lightning bugs.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
A locomotive
Floating down the tracks
singing in falsetto
Flashes of skin against skin
erratic breathing
Blinding calcification of desire
The sound of eggshells cracking,
of bare feet on tile flooring
Laughter Not mine
Frequent idealizing, projecting
The soft whirr of a washing machine
and her lips pressed against my own
The click of a disposable camera
and shoes scraping against gravel
Embrace intertwine
enveloped by her being
intimacy that puts the world in stasis
A locomotive
Floating down the tracks
Singing in falsetto
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
today, sir, is the day to say thank you
and my way to do so, ermh --
is to write you a poem
i don't know about your past but your
knowledge of mine is vast
you knew me better than my parents
and you spotted the real me during our therapy never said my "father" that he
was proud of me -- but you did, you revealed in me the true kid because you have the gift to lead people to the place where their truth is; most people join the rat race, but you always kept the same pace and you
made it to erase my shame, healing people is what you're here for, reliable and faithful, and regardless of any writer's fame: YOU HAVE A NAME... an inner flame of kindness glows in your soul, you released me from my
blindness, and you helped me dealing with my tormenter: cole, i never felt that you played a role, i sensed you are whole, may god bless your four daughters, and i wished YOU had been my father, but thats fine: cause you
became a father figure, and soon i figured that your goodness makes you richer than a person owning millions, i do thank you a billion times for being
a mirror who is speaking, at our first session i
shivered, but hid it, you opened me, and noted nothing down, you just listened and saved me from drowning
each letter is for you, each word proves my gratitude how can you have this attitude? how do you do this?
im not idealizing, yet, you're my idol, cause you taught me bout my anger, that as a child, i never had a man as a rival, i had lost my destination and you were my arrival
Fakhri Khalik, you were my arrival.
You stopped my denial.
You are a huge part of my survival.
You are my arrival, I am your disciple.
Forever Yours.
Max
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 10:38 AM UTC
a flower came from your mouth
i ate it without permission. sorry
my body becomes the evidence
that i will hide forever. you were soft
i wish i broke you
your flower died when i munched it
sour, moist, bitter, a bit salty
my tongue & my eyes
both teary and red
help me. i have been poisoned
by my own goodwill
i just wanted to taste the soft petals
why should it come with thorns, my own
blood, despair, defeat
death you don't care about
who are we against? i don't remember
does that make me the murdered or the murderer
if no one dies at this scene
who will come to my funeral
who will regret not idealizing me a little longer
does any of this ever make you sane?
i almost had it. freedom
turns out my sanity
isn't even worth that much
remind me again why i am here
remind me again why i am here
remind me again why i am here
remind me again why
i am here
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC
This disorder is characterized by three or more of the following symptoms:
1. Odd appearance or behavior.
2. Peculiar coping mechanisms that do not seem to follow any logical train of thought.
3. Fumbling with language to the point of gross disorganization.
4. Odd perceptions that can range from illusions to hallucinations.
5. Strange beliefs that fluctuate wildly depending on context.
6. Wildly wavering opinions on others -- that is, a fluctuation between idealizing and devaluing people.
These symptoms must cause some sort of impairment in everyday functioning, social skills, and workplace skills.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
listen, you were never gentle or caring, you were a ******* whirlwind of ******** and false feelings, you killed pieces of me that I was too naïve to even understand, what a tragedy right?, I viewed you as a god.. but in reality you were only a guy who was trying just as hard as I was trying to keep breathing, you were full of big words and enchanting theories of why we're even here on this earth, but I was blind to the fact that you were hurt. God, when I finally stopped viewing you on a **** pedestal everything became clearer, boy it was so blurry until someone turned on the lights, idealizing people is not healthy.. you were not healthy. But I tasted ***** today and it tasted like you, not because it made me warm and fuzzy or made me feel new but because it tasted sweet at first and then burned my throat, and left me needing an antidote, looks like we're both unhealthy, also I remember when the first time we talked everything went quiet, it was like having earplugs in but all I could hear was you, everything went away for a second. Is that love? If that is, why did I wake up choking on the air you couldn't give me? Love is so strong in the end you die from it?
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
Idealize them once they’re gone.
Pity is bestowed by victors;
Evening thus recalls the dawn—
Truth revised by truth’s depicters.
Swooning for the Noble Savage,
That comes later. First comes war.
Conquerors arrive, then ravage:
Dominance worth fighting for.
The conquerors, in retrospect,
Describe their subjugated foe
In shades politically correct
(After they’re defeated, though…)
Ambushes and scalps for dinner—
Pretty pictures of the past:
Airbrushed touch-ups from the winner;
Real depictions cannot last.
Idealizing distant lives
While snug inside your comfy home
Is fine; your living standard thrives.
But Gaul had other views of Rome . . .
Apr 17, 2023
Apr 17, 2023 at 3:37 PM UTC
We were just ruled by wishful thinking
Idealizing our lives, believing in our dreams
I wonder how much of that we’ll get to fulfill
You said even if our dreams remained as they are
At least we could define our perfect futures
And I believed you
Not because of sensibility,
But because of trust
And we both know that supersedes everything else
All the more made possible with the stark promise of reality
For me, that’s more than enough
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
Restless nights have become habits. Lying on the bed listening to the same song over and over again thinking somehow the song will change into the same childish sleep lullaby you fell asleep to when you were little. You excuse yourself saying the heat has got you or you have been feeling a little under the weather and you can't sleep, but you know exactly what's going on. Everything around you seems to have a meaning doesn't it? It looks like everything as a reason to be, but you don't. You don't have a thing to say it's yours. You don't have a thing to immortalize your name when your body dies. And thinking about it gets you. You think about it late at night, while everyone sleeps. You start figuring out solutions and idealizing plans to restart your life tomorrow. Tomorrow will be different. And when you notice it the sun is coming back up. You fall asleep with a smile on your face thinking you have made some progress this night, it was worth it. You sleep for 2 hours and wake up. Everyone is still asleep. It's 8am and you wonder why the hell you woke up so early and tired. It must have been last night. Last night...? It's a blur.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
To take that which lies
and insist on compromise
tired, sleepless night
I chose to be hungry
Invaded incense musk
lilac bush in the faded light of dusk
the buzzing of bees has finally ceased
and I chose to lie, hungry
The smell of metal
my tongue and nose taste as it's wetter
summer rain, warm breeze through screens
I do not eat, though I am so hungry
Under blankets of sun and sheens of sweat
I let go of reality I seldom met
taste turns sour, no matter it's source
still, I deny myself the worst
Idealizing my death, among life
Trees, grass, flowers, smiles mask me
I will always be this hungry
as long as creation follows death
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC