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Oct 2023 · 768
Deer in the headlights
Alex Rappel Oct 2023
You only touch me when I’m not looking
Stuck in traffic, my eyes on the road
Or when I pretend to be asleep,
Afraid to breathe, to startle you—
You, like a deer in the headlights;
Me, the driver, blinded by the night
It is strange: the touch, the flinch
In the moment of alert and panic
It felt warm like the blood of the dear
Oozing, reaching the car,
To finally meet the driver
Touching me terrifies you to death
And only in death are you brave enough
To reach for me, embrace me
It’s you who flinch now when I look,
Hand quicker than your thoughts
You didn’t hesitate, and I didn’t ask
Lights off now, I get out of the car
But you have run off to where I cannot see you
Been aching to write something after not having been able to for a while, and so this happened. I miss my mother but she is no longer here. She's alive, just no longer the her that I'd go to for comfort. I can count the times she really embraced me with only one hand, and even that is too much to count with.

21 October 2023
Dec 2022 · 263
Grieve
Alex Rappel Dec 2022
Today I grieve the loss of an old friend.
She knew how to spin pretty words from
Raw emotions and weave them into worlds.

Today I grieve the loss of myself.
In the process of growing I’ve discovered that
A life without poetry is a life truly miserable.
I have not been able to lift up a pen
And write to my heart’s content.
I have lost the magic since I met
A man who crushed me with his mere existence.
A power once lost cannot return so soon.
It is my biggest fear yet —
I do not know when I will be able to write again.
A heartbreak can do a number on you but I didn’t expect it to steal my words as well. Every time I pick up a pen to write something I feel genuinely ashamed that I’ve lost the ability to tell a story. I hope one day I find it again.

Written 13 December 2022
Aug 2022 · 680
dear father
Alex Rappel Aug 2022
from the moment i opened my eyes
i had no choice but to love you
to cherish you as if one day you would leave me
and start a new family somewhere far away
from the moment i could stand
i had no choice but to run to you
for comfort and love
but father,
tell me,
why don’t i feel loved?
is there something wrong with me?
is there a secret you haven’t told?
that you have never loved me at all
how come you don’t want me?
from the moment i began to think
i could only ask myself the same questions
over and over, father,
tell me,
is it something i’ve done?
is it that i’m the mistake you’ve created?
or how much burden i bring you?
how much i am spending?
but father,
each day i live as if i am no longer human
my needs do not exist because
those of yours are mine
so father,
tell me
when has your love for me finally died?
Written 17 October 2019 immediately after a fight with my dad lol
Aug 2022 · 1.3k
wildfire
Alex Rappel Aug 2022
i am a daughter of wind and fire
in the summer when the two clashed
i was born

my mother,
she ignites dry leaves beneath her feet,
providing warmth when night comes
but with too much fury she fuels herself and destroys
and into dust we become if we are one step too close

my father,
the east wind who comforts with air
sweeping us to meet the stars when the fire scorches
but he is also a hurricane if we are not careful
he will perish the trees and the life residing within

my sister,
she is safe with her little bird friends
they will fly her away when the forest starts to burn
she will leave with the gentle winds
they will fly her charcoal body to a near riverbank

myself,
i am safe for i have developed strength
to tolerate the fire and the wind and
the quiet of the fiery requiem,
a lullaby to put life to sleep
at dawn, the ashes learn to fly once more
the trees fall, a kingdom of crimson and gold
and amongst the gray i am risen
a daughter of wind and fire
the product of graying love
of two graying souls:
a wildfire



the forest is a beauty of its own. however, like all things, beauty does not last, although the very concept remains. it resides within our hearts. it is sweet, yes, which is why we choose to linger to it when in reality such beauty simply does not exist. in this poem, a family is illustrated. grim it seems to some, while the poem actually tells of a still-functioning broken family. not all are raised in a garden full of lilies and magnolias. our roots are deep within the rich-brown soil of a gloomy forest where light seldom shines, but we grow just as beautiful nonetheless.
Written on 23 March 2019 as an assignment. The theme was family. Cheesy.
Aug 2022 · 1.7k
fragment #2
Alex Rappel Aug 2022
she touches me and i am lost
in her hair, her mouth,
her eyes, her skin—
she is quicksand, she is oasis.
she speaks to me and i am allured
her voice lily of the valley,
daring tongue soft and subtle
lethal as i drink her in
no longer can i give anyone else
what i so eagerly give to her
Written on 8 December 2018 in honour of a dear friend of mine
Aug 2022 · 170
for jjk
Alex Rappel Aug 2022
you are
the cherry blossom of my days
key lime pie and sunflower
hibiscus and rose petal tea
Written on 21 January 2020
Aug 2022 · 410
wichita falls
Alex Rappel Aug 2022
my lips burn at the taste of your name
my tongue dry, eyes red
i walk along the pavement in search for
the pieces you’ve left behind
with hopes to put them together somehow
they tell me that you’ve moved
a few weeks ago when i was out of town
at first i didn’t believe them
but i realised you had no reason to stay
i guess it’s best for the both of us
to finally move on
but i’m stuck in this very old picture of us
It's about a man in my maladaptive daydreams *****.

Written on 11 January 2020
Aug 2022 · 2.4k
fragment #1
Alex Rappel Aug 2022
...

Since the day I met you, I have been seeing colours—
Of blue tango, dahlia, bird of paradise,
Persian buttercup, daylily, even hibiscus—

...
Just a fragment of an unfinished poem. This is all I could scavenge.

Written on 15 April 2021 about a man who later found somebody else<3
Aug 2022 · 854
This is not a poem
Alex Rappel Aug 2022
I just want a long, tight hug from anyone. I don’t know why it’s so difficult to get one even from my own family. Are they afraid of affection? But they can hug others just fine, so why am I the only exception? Am I missing out on something? I remember crying alone until my sister saw me. I didn’t say anything that day. I went for a hug as soon as I saw her, but  I was afraid that she would reject me somehow, like she always did. She didn’t, though, but I could feel that she didn’t know what to do let alone what was going on, so I let go as quickly as I could. I didn’t feel what I was looking for. Not warmth, not welcoming arms, and certainly not a sense of safety, of security. Or even love. It was a terribly difficult night. I cried even harder afterward. Something about being a family fools you into thinking there is affection all the while it doesn’t exist in this reality.
Written some time in 2020. I'm basically trauma dumping.
Aug 2022 · 1.0k
mortal olympian
Alex Rappel Aug 2022
i have been having many dreams lately
the good, the bad, and the *****
lace curtains breezing at the touch of morning air
your face bare, the curly maze of your hair
undoubtedly an invitation for a quiet admiration

your little nose with its bridge slim and high
sits perfectly on your well-sculpted face
if poor apollo sees you,
this, i am sure the world would ignite
sparks seeping into your mortal veins
demeter, she would try to suffocate you
with wild flowers growing inside your lungs
aphrodite shall drown in her very own ichor
and replace poseidon’s kingdom with eternal tears
for she knows she could never overcome your beauty
artemis would fall out of the sky
with poison arrows piercing through her heart

the way your teal dress kisses
every curse of your body reminds me
of the time you angered hera because
zeus could only look at you and nothing else
there was a baleful thunderstorm coming
yet there you slept, safely and soundly
my arms shielding you in case she would come
but hera never dared, threatened by your power
to move the sea if you wish for land
to shatter the earth for fun if you desire
the hearts of olympus you have captured
within your tiny palms and i question:
am i worthy of such greatness?
an empress from a foreign land who speaks
with every word of innocence and affection
Written in November 2019

A Greek myth themed poem? By me? Who would've thought.

I was inspired by a dear friend who has been posting on here recently, so I figured I would post whatever I have in my notes app. Just for the memories.
Apr 2021 · 130
This is becoming a habit
Alex Rappel Apr 2021
I am staring at the wall
It stares back at me
Blank, heavy;
It has listened to everything I had to say.
There is a scribble,
A weirdly neat handwriting:
NOSCE TE IPSUM
Latin, huh? Funny
When have I ever been so sophisticated?
Beside it a reminder I rarely read:
“You are nothing but
my pride and joy.”
How I value others’ words but never mine.
My eyes are becoming a little heavy.
Apr 2021 · 100
untitled (april 2021)
Alex Rappel Apr 2021
i have not felt like myself lately
but then again, what is that
even supposed to feel like?
Apr 2021 · 996
daybreak (5:41am)
Alex Rappel Apr 2021
for some time now i have been thinking about the possibilities of my beloved having drowned in the same abyss as my own. i will not ask them—no, i do not think i can, because for the longest time i thought that it was only i whose lungs had been suffocated with the inner conflict of whether or not my thoughts meant something, the confusion of whether or not what i had been feeling were mere ghosts of forgone memories.

for reasons like this i have decided to remain sunken, a living ship wreck, half fallen apart. how dare i assume the best of them when i knew fully how sorrow shines the brightest when Moon hides herself, too cowardly to confront Night.

perhaps i have been achingly comfortable with the growing silence of dusk. all are quiet except chirping birds and a few hundred tireless, dissonant fragments of the mind. how frightfully calm they become as day breaks—a melancholic melody

this is when i decide i probably should stay awake to let life flash before my eyes for another day.
I wrote this after finally having realized that my close friends have been through the same things as me. They expressed them through poetry, like I do.

Surprise, surprise — it's very cheesy and redundant.
Apr 2019 · 342
a hymn of infinite hunger
Alex Rappel Apr 2019
a touch so soft and gentle
caressing my skin
up and down your hands go:
curious
there is the heat
and the cold of
your palms when they
embrace me in the
places only you can reach

your skin pressing against mine
i hear the beating of your heart,
your breath; your body
dancing with mine until
there is light again
delicate, careful,
passionate, demanding—
so hungry we are
the air fused with desire
to be free you say,
to cleanse the mind and the soul

like wolves of the night
we sing the chorus of
a sinful hymn, a harmony
of pleasure; and i hear your calling,
innocent yet so intimidating
i follow your commands
your touch, so impatient, wandering,
guides me to the place we most belong
where every part of me is yours
and you are every part of mine
Wrote this in class. Way to go.
Alex Rappel Apr 2019
there is no need for the sky
for the constellations are painted
individually, ever so gently
on your honey dripping skin
i look into your eyes and see
star dust scattered across
the never-ending nova

your smile could end a cursed storm
while your kiss could cause a wildfire
and your lips alone could melt
the words in my deafening mind
you shine brighter than artemis
you bring the tides, take them away
you grant the ocean life, and
if you please, grant sailors their fate

your voice, like a ghost, follows
i cannot escape it: in the nights that
i dream i hear it calling to me
when i am awake, it is haunting me
deep like a valley, coarse like the rocky shore,
low like a ripe Apple hanging from the Tree,
warm and dark and awakening like coffee,
sinful like i am

your hands move along the curves
of my body, sparks seeping into my veins
to my spine you whisper, ‘comply’
and i, an empress of my own, comply
you come from a foreign land yet
your commands do so much to me
i do not ever have to think
to move with your hands on our silky palace
I believe this was my peak hopeless romantic era. Can't tell if I should be sorry for myself lol
Sep 2017 · 355
after my funeral
Alex Rappel Sep 2017
i will be
six feet deep
buried
amongst filthy dirt
and our memories
please tell me you'll miss me
May 2017 · 2.0k
needle and thread
Alex Rappel May 2017
if only i could stitch
this family back with
a needle and thread
we wouldn't be like this
Apr 2017 · 60
for the moon
Alex Rappel Apr 2017
he is beautiful
so heavenly
perhaps
he is not made for me
but
for the moon
my first poem ever. yay? idk

— The End —