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"screenshots" poems
You can ignore me, but remember that you once loved me. Yes, it hurts me sometimes, but then I remember what you've done. Taking screenshots of my loyal love, and making fun of me for my feelings. Thinking my heart was just a pawn, a pawn in a board game that you'll forget about. This bitterness against you isn't me being a crazy ex girlfriend, it's me being human and having feelings. I just don't understand how you could tell me that you loved me, but leave me for the girl whom you told me you couldn't stand, and do this all in one day.
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Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 12:25 AM UTC
I'm More Human Than **You**
i say keep your memories treasure them both good and bad they capture a specific moment in your life a specific feeling you can go back and look on them and think "how emotional i was" or consider "how happy i was" you never experience the same version of an emotion twice so keep your memories, and treasure those screenshots of life you experience.
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Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
keep your memories
Hour by hour She checks her Insta Posts a new picture With a Snapchat filter If it doesn't receive any compliments It's not good enough Every morsel is captured For her followers Praised by the likes And screenshots Wouldn't be seen dead Without her makeup Clothing It's got to be designer Membership at the gym To show off her trainers Trails through pages Like a maniac Can't help but compare And want what she's got Her house is big Her boyfriend is handsome Her friends are cool Her family supportive She needs a new car The latest Apple product A holiday To an exotic location The trolls are cruel She can't be seen with you Her lips too thin Her nose too big Searching for surgeries to fix the double chin Without the screen Her life is meaningless She's addicted to social media Depressed and anxious Jealous and bitter She's too deep under water To see you trying to save her
0
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 6:44 AM UTC
Social media
# Throughout the years, you have made pictures of yourself available for us to see and through a number of them-- have shown unedited,  a clear and horrendously honest view,  directly into your deeply-struggling soul--   and even if you may had just days   or hours,  previously conveyed a look of almost carefree    happiness and beauty..   Those chosen few  that graciously gave the glimpse  of how bad it can so often be for you,   also.. unbeknownst to you,      gave light of how tremendously valuable and rare you really are. And like a dyed-in-the-wool stalker,   I saved screenshots of the ones  that moved me to tears years later.. and they still affect me that way and in fairness, some the ones  also to where you were truly glowing   in all  of your natural beauty..   on the ying' side   of the bipolar swing. You are rare and unique.. so very very one of a kind, *(and I have every right throughout the years to say that to you here and now)* --that there is a  worth  within every single part of it all that is wholly beyond measure-- *you can feel it sometimes, little beauty I know there is no way that you cannot.* One day  the ravens will no longer be able to steal that wholly accurate, beautiful self-view so easily from you, ..and you will be able to live that wonderfully-accurate view out,  daily-- having now found it's way down in to your very, central core.. .  .  .   Sorry, young love.. I know how much  a beautiful truth such as this, hurts. You reveal so much of who you are through the raw innerworkings  and conveyances of your poetry and music. You would not be that so very beautiful way, if you did not believe that Love would eventually find a way..   yes, beauty..  even for you. #
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Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 10:11 AM UTC
the art of love
# Throughout the years, you have made pictures of yourself available for us to see and through a number of them-- have shown unedited,  a clear and horrendously honest view,  directly into your deeply-struggling soul--   and even if you may had just days   or hours,  previously conveyed a look of almost carefree    happiness and beauty..   Those chosen few  that graciously gave the glimpse  of how bad it can so often be for you,   also.. unbeknownst to you,      gave light of how tremendously valuable and rare you really are. And like a dyed-in-the-wool stalker,   I saved screenshots of the ones  that moved me to tears years later.. and they still affect me that way and in fairness, some the ones  also to where you were truly glowing   in all  of your natural beauty..   on the ying' side   of the bipolar swing. You are rare and unique.. so very very one of a kind, *(and I have every right throughout the years to say that to you here and now)* --that there is a  worth  within every single part of it all that is wholly beyond measure-- *you can feel it sometimes, little beauty I know there is no way that you cannot.* One day  the ravens will no longer be able to steal that wholly accurate, beautiful self-view so easily from you, ..and you will be able to live that wonderfully-accurate view out,  daily-- having now found it's way down in to your very, central core.. .  .  .   Sorry, young love.. I know how much  a beautiful truth such as this, hurts. You reveal so much of who you are through the raw innerworkings  and conveyances of your poetry and music. You would not be that so very beautiful way, if you did not believe that Love would eventually find a way..   yes, beauty..  even for you. #
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55
7:14 PM // Will you marry me? 7:38 PM // Yes. Not today though, it would be dark by the time we got home. 2:30 PM // Marry me 2:35 PM // One day 6:50 PM // Marry me 6:50 PM // I can't today, but I will 2:14 PM // Will you marry me 2:16 PM // Yes. It's too hot today though 2:17 PM // I got a bag of cheetos I've been trying to finish for like 3 days can we get married when I'm done with the bag 2:20 PM // I guess we'll see 6:27 PM // Will you marry me 6:28 PM // I'm not dressed well enough but yes, eventually 6:29 PM // I'd marry you in pajamas and you'd still be absolutely stunning 6:30 PM // You're lovely 11:42 PM // Lets get married 11:43 PM // If you insist. It's kind of late though 11:43 PM // It's daytime somewhere tn
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Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
The Beauty Of Screenshots
First you told the truth told me straight girls just werent for you so I took his hand gave him a sweet kiss and we rolled in the sand Said life never felt this great and the happiness began daydreams  of us kissing wedding bands and life plans of us out of the country My mind on men couldn't wait to escape but there was a fault in our fate a girl who wanted a taste of your luck Mom thought she was great and you start to eliminate your love for your man said god hates gays cant look at you with starry eyes anyways people start to notice A flick of an eye and tap on the shoulder "Dont do that infront of my children" they'll be confused as time rolls over So i believed it didnt know life would be this different didn't know id forget that i was into different love interests So then you started to lie second time comes round cherry boy you kissed just had to fly out of town said his parents abusive doesnt raise no boys whos heart flutters for other men, excuses It hurt more then just a little empty beer bottles start to pile the table cell disabled lies and cheating start to enable the dishonesty he had for his lover man made love for another no amount of liquor could make them lie next to eachother She heard it him whispering soft words of a males name the screenshots of emails he sent were not tame "I love you" Spilled over the page and she knew this wasnt a game So she left that very next day
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC
Part 1: lying to myself
I've got the world's best kept secret locked in 2 AM screenshots-- her late night musings over a crusty joint, a crushed pill, or some ***** cigarettes. She sends me her thoughts, fears, anxieties, insecurities-- at her most vulnerable, absolutely the most beautiful. Her anguish stressed in the digital scroll (though she doesn't like Kerouac, I let her borrow my copy), her stained fingers mashing all their hurt and nicotine into the keyboard-- and her pen aches and her paper stains with the unrequited love she empathizes with in the somber pop punk songs that explode from the stereo she sings loudly on cold and lonely night drives (I shiver in her passenger seat). And she made for me the greatest of mixtapes, her holy scrawl expounding upon a dull grey donut-shaped slowly fading form of intimacy, a blank CD-- "This mix is a good time" and when I jammed it into my car stereo I was illuminated. She is so cool, she is so punk, and in her clandestine drugstore car charger thefts, broken poems, impalpable aesthetic, impeccable music taste, illuminated or even further obfuscated drug trips-- I have the world's best kept secret, and more than anything, I wish to share it with you--                                      so she can make someone another mixtape.
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May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
Mixtape Heart
How I learned to deal with bullies: Let them have their laugh. Then laugh about the stupid things they say and do later because you got screenshots of all that **** for the cops. xD
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Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
Laugh It Off
*Sapphire Eyes Of An Astral Mermaid, Perpetual Eternities & Her Sundrenched Serenades, Myriad Odysseys & Spellbound Fairytales, Veiled In Elysian Elegance Of Her Harmonious Tales, ****** Landscapes & Electric Fire, Stellar Cloudscapes Of Her Ecstatic Desires, Spatial Matrix Of An Emerald Queen, An Ethereal Butterfly Perpetually Serene, Colored Screenshots & Blue Moon Foundations, Wrecking Overdose Of Her Summer Seductions, Synthetic Transformations Of Her Sun Caged Maze, Interstellar Canvas Painted In Her Galactic Sage, Searchlights Trapped In Her Floral Vortex, Eternal Burns Streaming Spectral *** Supernova Charades & Her Uncharted Palisades, Dewdrops Verses Drenched In Her Toxic Shades, Restrained Insanity & Crystal Heartbeats Stained Perspectives Of Her Intimate Deceits, Phantasmal Radiance To Her Billion Dreams, Enigmatic Raves Blossoming Into Epiphanic Realms. - 05:47 AM -*
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Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 8:32 PM UTC
Princesse Du Soleil
Do you remember how big you used to smile whenever we would meet? You could melt icebergs with the warmness in your eyes. Now, it feels like you don't even see me anymore… Do you remember all the jokes you used to tell? They were lame most of the time, but you would laugh so hard you couldn't breathe anymore because you thought they were so funny. Now, how I miss those stupid jokes… Do you remember how we could talk for hours, never getting tired of each other? You used to confide in me, about anything and everything. Now, my worst nightmare has come true because we don't talk anymore. Do you remember how you used to pull my hair from behind and hold me so tight I could feel your heart beating? Now, I only see you from afar… Do you remember the little names you used to give me? I claimed to hate all of them, but we both knew I secretly fancied them. Now, I can't even remember the sounf of your voice… Do you remember how you used to send me random texts, every day? Some made me blush, some made me smile softly, and some had the power to make me laugh out loud. Now, all I have left are the few screenshots I have kept. They don’t make me laugh or smile anymore. They make me cry because it hurts to recall how happy we were together… Remember when we used to know each other? Because now, we’re just strangers.
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May 11, 2019
May 11, 2019 at 11:09 AM UTC
Do you remember?
Thought of you everyday thought of you to tell you what you meant thought of you to express what i feel thought of you and then to end myself again thought of you i remembered us thought of you i remembered our screenshots you on call thought of you i look for you in my sunsets thought of you but i am dead to you thought of you how easily you moved on thought of you why it didn't work thought of you we were supposed to last forever thought of you you sleep great and i have accompany by darkness thought of you then i remembered thought of you you dont care thought of you i still remember our future together thought of you i remember what i am next to you thought of you i cry sadness and love thought of you i am empty broken thought of you you made the decision to be apart thought of you i spill art of sorrows and lust for death just thought of you
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Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 2:05 PM UTC
Thought of you & Don't tell me
I shouldn't still love you, For that annoys you greatly, But I do And no matter how many apps you block and unfollow me on I still check in to see how you are I read your posts hoping you mention you miss me And I ask the friends we share to unlock your thoughts on me As I lay in bed on these cold lonely nights Reading our old messages, Looking at the photos I still have of you saved in my phone, And finding nostalgia in screenshots of all of my favorite things you've said Now you didn't know but I had an idea I wanted to do for you, Something I'd give you when we met which was supposed to be over the summer; I wanted to make a personalized notebook, Fill it with my favorite quotes from you, Poems I write about you, And even the reasons why I love you so you'd never forget; And everyone said that was a really sweet idea So I'd daydream of you keeping that forever That one day we'd be married and look back at it as we cuddled, smiling back at the memories That we'd share it with our child{ren} and show them how to enjoy the simple things Oh honey, whatever happened to that? Our shared dream of us singing to our child{ren} every night as you strummed away on your guitar? I guess I'll just sit here and hope you'll maybe one day come back, Realize what you've left behind and what an amazing girl I really am But that's just me hoping Ignoring the fact that you've left me, Ran for the hills and ditched town, And that you're already far gone...
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Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
Timothy
i take screenshots of what i feel. when i first fell for you, i took screenshots about love, hope, and happiness. when i saw that your heart was somewhere else, i took screenshots of depression, suicide, and jealousy. when i moved on, i took screenshots of things i found funny. now that the beasts are thriving once again, i take screenshots. of the emptiness.
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Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
Screenshots
She's like a tigress, walking past my life everytime. Making me fall for her always. I thought I love her. If I did, then why'd I always fight with her for dating someone else? Why'd I act bad with her? Why'd I not be more kind to her? Why'd I not stay out of her life when I planned to leave it rather than her abandoning me? Because I realised I can't stay without her. Because I realised she was the tiny missing piece of my puzzle. Didn't her happiness matter to me more? If it didn't I wouldn't listen to her keep on telling me about him. If it did I'd not listen to her endless talks. If it did I'd not see the pics of him which she kept sending me. If I didn't I'd not tell her how to convince him. If it didn't I'd not even have read all the screenshots that she sent me. If you ask me what I got after all this? I'd say nothing. All I got was hate. All I got was to listen to her tell me bye. All I got was her telling me to forget it. All I got was her ego. All I got was her attitude. All I got was me to hate myself because of whatever I did. For all I got is to hate world, to hate humanity, to hate love, to hate appreciation, to hate living.. I wanna live more. I wanna be part of something much better than her. I wanna forget her. I wanna be me again. I wanna be the real me. I wanna be happy. I don't wanna regret my actions. I don't wanna regret loving anyone. Is that too much to ask?
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
Tiger Girl..
You're in a bar thousands of miles from home in a city that your tongue struggles to properly pronounce watching a seventeen year old chain smoking nicotine he bought from a girl on the corner when you first feel like you're beginning to settle, a familiar weight settling in your stomach, an old acquaintance a stone's throw from a stomachache, so you slip off of your stool to stagger to the bathroom where you clutch the porcelain and kneel with fingers poised like a prayer to your gag reflex, but you don't do it, you just sit and feel cold tiles seeping a chill into your knees and you're trembling. You don't get up for a long time but you know you have to settle and sit eventually. When you go back to the bar, a boy with a galaxy smile will take you outside and buy you candy from a sketchy vending machine, and you can let yourself believe that sweets solve everything: sweet words and signs and cards tucked into your jewelry box, tongues tucked between teeth in smiles and screenshots as receipts of ten second Snapchat dreams. But other people can't fix you. Learn that. Don't you dare let yourself believe, don't you dare let yourself put something as fragile as your happiness in someone else's heart because it probably won't beat as hard as your own, and it won't pump life into your joys for long, and before you know it, that happiness that you tethered to someone else is gone. That's okay. You'll be okay. You just need to learn that memories will only ever be memories, that things only shine when you remember that you have to keep them clean, that the chemicals of development take white pages and make them dark, that photos come from negatives, and that you've never had a predisposition for rose-tinted lenses.
0
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Salzburg
You're in a bar thousands of miles from home in a city that your tongue struggles to properly pronounce watching a seventeen year old chain smoking nicotine he bought from a girl on the corner when you first feel like you're beginning to settle, a familiar weight settling in your stomach, an old acquaintance a stone's throw from a stomachache, so you slip off of your stool to stagger to the bathroom where you clutch the porcelain and kneel with fingers poised like a prayer to your gag reflex, but you don't do it, you just sit and feel cold tiles seeping a chill into your knees and you're trembling. You don't get up for a long time but you know you have to settle and sit eventually. When you go back to the bar, a boy with a galaxy smile will take you outside and buy you candy from a sketchy vending machine, and you can let yourself believe that sweets solve everything: sweet words and signs and cards tucked into your jewelry box, tongues tucked between teeth in smiles and screenshots as receipts of ten second Snapchat dreams. But other people can't fix you. Learn that. Don't you dare let yourself believe, don't you dare let yourself put something as fragile as your happiness in someone else's heart because it probably won't beat as hard as your own, and it won't pump life into your joys for long, and before you know it, that happiness that you tethered to someone else is gone. That's okay. You'll be okay. You just need to learn that memories will only ever be memories, that things only shine when you remember that you have to keep them clean, that the chemicals of development take white pages and make them dark, that photos come from negatives, and that you've never had a predisposition for rose-tinted lenses.
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================================================== I still have screenshots. From nights You definitely Do not remember. ... I still have recordings Of things You don't remember saying. Words you don't remember falling From your mouth. ... I still have memories. From the first few nights. Mental images of our smiles. The laughter. The fun. Our happiness. ... I wish I could Forget. .... I want to Forget ... I need to Forget The way you looked at Me ==================================================
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Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
The Way You Looked At Me
I am obsessed with my health. Not just simply my health, but my weight, and my eating habits, and my view on life and myself. I am so obsessed that it has now gotten to the point where it is all I think about, and it has become obvious to everyone around me. I can tell you which lunch ladies at my school won't question your lunch choices, which teachers will let you sit in their classrooms during lunch because you don't want to be around anyone or food; I have memorized restaurant menus, and I can tell you the meals with the lowest amounts of calories. My photo gallery is full of screenshots of healthy, low calorie, low fat, no-sugar recipes that I intend to make when I choose. I follow 177 eating disorders blogs on Tumblr. One of them being my girlfriend, and I get notifications when all of them post anything new. I weigh myself everyday, I know what I am eating two days from now, I overexercise, and I can tell you how many calories are in the 6 200mg ibuprofen I take everyday before facing the world. I have lost 20 lbs. That doesn't seem like something worth keeping to myself, but it is when you are a high school girl; it is when all girls think the same, and suddenly when they hear numbers, they want to be number 1; they want to be the lowest, to be the winner, to be the most miserable person. I can tell you exactly what it feels like to be embarrassed of being in your own skin. I love giving other people food because I want them to remember that food is good for them. I want them to feel as though being given food is a kind gesture, not a last resort.
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Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC
The things I never say - part 3
I am obsessed with my health. Not just simply my health, but my weight, and my eating habits, and my view on life and myself. I am so obsessed that it has now gotten to the point where it is all I think about, and it has become obvious to everyone around me. I can tell you which lunch ladies at my school won't question your lunch choices, which teachers will let you sit in their classrooms during lunch because you don't want to be around anyone or food; I have memorized restaurant menus, and I can tell you the meals with the lowest amounts of calories. My photo gallery is full of screenshots of healthy, low calorie, low fat, no-sugar recipes that I intend to make when I choose. I follow 177 eating disorders blogs on Tumblr. One of them being my girlfriend, and I get notifications when all of them post anything new. I weigh myself everyday, I know what I am eating two days from now, I overexercise, and I can tell you how many calories are in the 6 200mg ibuprofen I take everyday before facing the world. I have lost 20 lbs. That doesn't seem like something worth keeping to myself, but it is when you are a high school girl; it is when all girls think the same, and suddenly when they hear numbers, they want to be number 1; they want to be the lowest, to be the winner, to be the most miserable person. I can tell you exactly what it feels like to be embarrassed of being in your own skin. I love giving other people food because I want them to remember that food is good for them. I want them to feel as though being given food is a kind gesture, not a last resort.
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5
I don't write love songs no more You then ask what is this for I said that I really don't know But either way would you come home                                come home                                                        come home                                                                      ....Yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah.... Baby I got it and no not ironic The way that I see you go way past the logic All of the girls in they summer dresses Got me rappin' without none of the stresses Blessings on blessings I'm countin' them: Chance Sonnets to hip-hop that modern romance Fly me to China, I teach you Setswana Drinking that wung zai 'cause batho ra tshwana- Pink: pretty girls like trap music Think: of who got dat music make movements- That's me, that's real, any other nig gotta deal got 'em feels, give 'em tissues, take no issues, under heel- Step on 'em: let 'em know that I'm only one Tell on 'em: got the screenshots say I'm the one Did on 'em- right **** I hit 'em with dat beat Pretty picture model sisters never follow though like you See I got you boo Like no one else luh you Some people want it all But I just want you Yeah, I got you boo Like no one else luh you I also got dem views- and **** all of dem views's you                                               *** What was the joke that we thought was so funny? Can I hear it again? Can it touch me at night and make me feel again?
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Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 1:31 PM UTC
Poem (w/ P and S, after Alicia Keys, in Hangzhou).
I don't write love songs no more You then ask what is this for I said that I really don't know But either way would you come home                                come home                                                        come home                                                                      ....Yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah.... Baby I got it and no not ironic The way that I see you go way past the logic All of the girls in they summer dresses Got me rappin' without none of the stresses Blessings on blessings I'm countin' them: Chance Sonnets to hip-hop that modern romance Fly me to China, I teach you Setswana Drinking that wung zai 'cause batho ra tshwana- Pink: pretty girls like trap music Think: of who got dat music make movements- That's me, that's real, any other nig gotta deal got 'em feels, give 'em tissues, take no issues, under heel- Step on 'em: let 'em know that I'm only one Tell on 'em: got the screenshots say I'm the one Did on 'em- right **** I hit 'em with dat beat Pretty picture model sisters never follow though like you See I got you boo Like no one else luh you Some people want it all But I just want you Yeah, I got you boo Like no one else luh you I also got dem views- and **** all of dem views's you                                               *** What was the joke that we thought was so funny? Can I hear it again? Can it touch me at night and make me feel again?
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(6/21 at 10:36 AM) this is where it started, you went full blast, with [ssfydbso] (6/24 at 8:12 PM) cute words and flattery that made me laugh; [mfsivv] (7/3 at 1:11 PM) the nicknames, if you could call them that, in the very least [vks/sks] (7/3 at 1:29 PM) the way we matched [sks/vks] (7/6 at 10:13) the unapologetic delivery [v#1s/fc] (8/19 at 12:52 AM) although before i'd been skeptical, i soon fell into a habit of you, and when i confronted you, oops, little did i learn, how you felt, yet i still extrapolated [ysaah] (9/6 at 10:57? PM) as you shared your music, you showed me new songs and i think i saved them all. [DBL you said @1am but if i'm honest, i think you were projecting how you felt onto someone else, but maybe i know a thing or two about that] (10/23 at 6:49 PM) then things got out of hand, so to speak (wink, wink) [hbbg] (11/13 at 11:00 AM) and i thought it would be a one-time thing, and it was, more or less, until the moment you texted, telling me i had invaded your dreams [wtbalos? (edited)/(redacted)] (11/15 at ??:?? AM?) but when i reached out, in the dead of night, maybe you thought it had underlying meaning, when really, i was lonely and wanted to talk to someone, but that someone was mainly you, or the version of you i concocted in my mind. [twtnajgd] (11/24 at 10:53 AM) and after months of reading into nonexistent nuances, and constructing a cacophony of daydreams involving you, when i threw my phone out, like three days later - well, i did say three was my favorite number - i reached out, for i wanted answers, and clarity and closure, and i guess i got it; i finally ******* got it and it drove me to poetry, where i spent the most time in a long time on you, searching for screenshots for timestamps so this ******* poem is the most accurate it possibly could be, and i even maxed out the discord character limit - just on you, and that's something that i rarely ever do. [biadttg] (11/28 at 11:48 PM) so, my phone is still thrown out, and i get my access back tomorrow, and now i must stick to the reasoning for which i threw it out in the first place, but i still seek out your name and activity on spotify, (?/? at ??:?? AM&PM) but i will work to curb that habit and every other one i have associated with you, and one day, they will all be but a distant memory
0
Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC
timestamps
(6/21 at 10:36 AM) this is where it started, you went full blast, with [ssfydbso] (6/24 at 8:12 PM) cute words and flattery that made me laugh; [mfsivv] (7/3 at 1:11 PM) the nicknames, if you could call them that, in the very least [vks/sks] (7/3 at 1:29 PM) the way we matched [sks/vks] (7/6 at 10:13) the unapologetic delivery [v#1s/fc] (8/19 at 12:52 AM) although before i'd been skeptical, i soon fell into a habit of you, and when i confronted you, oops, little did i learn, how you felt, yet i still extrapolated [ysaah] (9/6 at 10:57? PM) as you shared your music, you showed me new songs and i think i saved them all. [DBL you said @1am but if i'm honest, i think you were projecting how you felt onto someone else, but maybe i know a thing or two about that] (10/23 at 6:49 PM) then things got out of hand, so to speak (wink, wink) [hbbg] (11/13 at 11:00 AM) and i thought it would be a one-time thing, and it was, more or less, until the moment you texted, telling me i had invaded your dreams [wtbalos? (edited)/(redacted)] (11/15 at ??:?? AM?) but when i reached out, in the dead of night, maybe you thought it had underlying meaning, when really, i was lonely and wanted to talk to someone, but that someone was mainly you, or the version of you i concocted in my mind. [twtnajgd] (11/24 at 10:53 AM) and after months of reading into nonexistent nuances, and constructing a cacophony of daydreams involving you, when i threw my phone out, like three days later - well, i did say three was my favorite number - i reached out, for i wanted answers, and clarity and closure, and i guess i got it; i finally ******* got it and it drove me to poetry, where i spent the most time in a long time on you, searching for screenshots for timestamps so this ******* poem is the most accurate it possibly could be, and i even maxed out the discord character limit - just on you, and that's something that i rarely ever do. [biadttg] (11/28 at 11:48 PM) so, my phone is still thrown out, and i get my access back tomorrow, and now i must stick to the reasoning for which i threw it out in the first place, but i still seek out your name and activity on spotify, (?/? at ??:?? AM&PM) but i will work to curb that habit and every other one i have associated with you, and one day, they will all be but a distant memory
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All those fights and bad qualities about you start to fade But I still have the screenshots of how many times you bade My existence in your life, that we'd give it once more try That you're sorry and your sorry and you hope I'm doing fine And then change your mind As you harass and beg But those times didn't happen Don't speak ill of the dead Now all our old friends are texting and calling Sympathy overwhelming as my heart is falling Down to my stomach to boil in acid "have you heard" "Are you ok" "have you heard" "Are you ok" And I say I'm sorry I don't know how to feel I'm not even sure if any of this is real I didn't know him any longer And how much he went through change Living in his family's prejudice cage He ran into traffic in a drunken rage Now I look at my past And the messages we exchanged How he begged for me back And said his life wouldn't be the same That he dreams of me every night And how he'll never find someone like me I remember our fights and how this all came to be I remember how his family would look at me With love and with pity How I was so handsome, it was a shame I was gay, How I was a bad influence on their son and how I "made him this way." I remember sitting every holiday alone while he went to family dinners the weight of them explaining my relation to the family was too much to bare I won't be at the funeral either I'm assuming that's only fair. They never wanted me there. One day I'll visit your grave And ask the tombstones "why?" And get a response similar to yours Although a little more dry I can't cry Maybe he is watching me, I think about that a lot In my new life It's been 5 years on the dot. He still wasn't over me "I don't think he ever will be." said his Nana under the old oak tree. Israel was fallen By a GMC Sierra As I watch from afar This ending of an era
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Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
Mourning the Death of a Stranger
All those fights and bad qualities about you start to fade But I still have the screenshots of how many times you bade My existence in your life, that we'd give it once more try That you're sorry and your sorry and you hope I'm doing fine And then change your mind As you harass and beg But those times didn't happen Don't speak ill of the dead Now all our old friends are texting and calling Sympathy overwhelming as my heart is falling Down to my stomach to boil in acid "have you heard" "Are you ok" "have you heard" "Are you ok" And I say I'm sorry I don't know how to feel I'm not even sure if any of this is real I didn't know him any longer And how much he went through change Living in his family's prejudice cage He ran into traffic in a drunken rage Now I look at my past And the messages we exchanged How he begged for me back And said his life wouldn't be the same That he dreams of me every night And how he'll never find someone like me I remember our fights and how this all came to be I remember how his family would look at me With love and with pity How I was so handsome, it was a shame I was gay, How I was a bad influence on their son and how I "made him this way." I remember sitting every holiday alone while he went to family dinners the weight of them explaining my relation to the family was too much to bare I won't be at the funeral either I'm assuming that's only fair. They never wanted me there. One day I'll visit your grave And ask the tombstones "why?" And get a response similar to yours Although a little more dry I can't cry Maybe he is watching me, I think about that a lot In my new life It's been 5 years on the dot. He still wasn't over me "I don't think he ever will be." said his Nana under the old oak tree. Israel was fallen By a GMC Sierra As I watch from afar This ending of an era
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I’ve lost count of the weeks. Grief has made its own calendar. The pandemic stopped what ambition started I surrender. 4th March 2020: My mother has died I can't close my eyes tonight not because I am afraid of falling asleep but of waking up in a tomorrow where she does not exist. Behold, the audacity! I never accepted night, and still, the sun creeps up across the jagged Tokyo skyline ascending the tower ladder, bouncing off windows, pushing apart curtains pouring in from all crevices as the city flips up person by person, onto its stuporous hustle, as if nothing happened. ----------------------------------------- Amazing Grace: A million poems came to hold up my heart as it fell apart in my mother's death I had prepared for this moment, but what preparations suffice, when air is wrenched away from breath? I could write the saddest lines, sadder than Neruda's but the tales of her glory have a more engaging story to tell. What would she have said when she saw herself tagged in her obituary? she always counted the likes and read the comments I receive, rejoicing momentarily, in what, she claimed, was borrowed fame. And now I grieve. My frantic efforts to capture screenshots whenever we face-timed, so I could hoard her presence. Oh, bless her essence! even though her skin-clad bones had lost the cushion of flesh, even though the bruit of the fistula in her left arm terrified me like a constant 'low-battery' signal, when she managed to hug me, breathlessly, that last time, it was an exchange of the most amazing grace: her pain wrapped in patience, mine in gratitude. ----------------------------------------- Retrospective Realizations: And suddenly, I remember all the condolence messages I have ever written and retrospectively fill them with feel, only now revealed to me. My best compassion and empathy paled in comparison to this reality. Death is inevitable; mortality, inescapable. but life, with its enticing persistence to carry on, is cruel. ----------------------------------------- The poem ends but the pain doesn't: The real mourning starts when the visitors leave and the phone calls end and the messages stop pouring in, when you have to resume living but the dead can't un-die. Arshia. 22.4.2020 #onewritingaweek #weekunknown
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Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 10:35 AM UTC
Never-Ending Ending
I’ve lost count of the weeks. Grief has made its own calendar. The pandemic stopped what ambition started I surrender. 4th March 2020: My mother has died I can't close my eyes tonight not because I am afraid of falling asleep but of waking up in a tomorrow where she does not exist. Behold, the audacity! I never accepted night, and still, the sun creeps up across the jagged Tokyo skyline ascending the tower ladder, bouncing off windows, pushing apart curtains pouring in from all crevices as the city flips up person by person, onto its stuporous hustle, as if nothing happened. ----------------------------------------- Amazing Grace: A million poems came to hold up my heart as it fell apart in my mother's death I had prepared for this moment, but what preparations suffice, when air is wrenched away from breath? I could write the saddest lines, sadder than Neruda's but the tales of her glory have a more engaging story to tell. What would she have said when she saw herself tagged in her obituary? she always counted the likes and read the comments I receive, rejoicing momentarily, in what, she claimed, was borrowed fame. And now I grieve. My frantic efforts to capture screenshots whenever we face-timed, so I could hoard her presence. Oh, bless her essence! even though her skin-clad bones had lost the cushion of flesh, even though the bruit of the fistula in her left arm terrified me like a constant 'low-battery' signal, when she managed to hug me, breathlessly, that last time, it was an exchange of the most amazing grace: her pain wrapped in patience, mine in gratitude. ----------------------------------------- Retrospective Realizations: And suddenly, I remember all the condolence messages I have ever written and retrospectively fill them with feel, only now revealed to me. My best compassion and empathy paled in comparison to this reality. Death is inevitable; mortality, inescapable. but life, with its enticing persistence to carry on, is cruel. ----------------------------------------- The poem ends but the pain doesn't: The real mourning starts when the visitors leave and the phone calls end and the messages stop pouring in, when you have to resume living but the dead can't un-die. Arshia. 22.4.2020 #onewritingaweek #weekunknown
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If you feel so much pain If you feel you can't leave If you feel hurt cuz of me If you feel I'm sadness If you feel and it's real Just let me be Just let me go Just leave me alone Just ignore me for good Just do it for your own good Poetry is my therapy Poetry is my form of expression Poetry is my hobby Poetry is my thing Poetry is something I'm into I make music, I make poetry, I make art, I make education, I make improvisation, I make creativity, I make invention, I make I create
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May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
Screenshots
I love the way I hate the way you wish that I would smile. If only you could see that so much has been taken from me That I couldn't love you for a while. It took those awkward smiles through the camera to see That I could love you the way you love me.
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
.screenshots.
I remember so many things So many things that shouldn't even matter to me “My mind's memory is worse than my randomly saved screenshots.”
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Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
My mind's memory