essays-nobody-needed:

was playing around with some prose, they’re not very good but I thought I’d share anyway

My mom likes to ask if I’m in love with my best friend

And although I love the boy, I’m not in love with him

But I grin and blush when I tell her no

I’m not ready to let go

Of the image of me and him walking down the aisle

I know how much that makes my mother smile

I’m scrubbing my neck to get rid of your lipstick stain

Washing your sweet sugar perfume down the drain

He’s the one that holds my hair back when I’m sick

But I can’t stop thinking about the taste of your strawberry chapstick

Sometimes I rest my head on his to remind him that I care

And he knows how much I love it when he runs his fingers through my hair

And he loves me for the things I do when my mom is unaware

He’d be the perfect, golden partner for anyone but me

Because when I kiss my best friend I don’t feel anything

I wish that I’d grown up with a different life

The kind where I could picture a world with you as my wife

But all I can do is kiss your hand in my pitch black basement

If I was choosing who to marry I know it never could be you

But when I live with my best friend I hope I’ll get to kiss you too

I feel as though a large amount of sadness resides within me.. In a way that seems difficult to grasp. It seems to take refuge within the internal confines and crevices… so much so that the intermingling of two bodies—the metaphysical exchange of pleasure, specifically what exists beyond skin-to-skin and pelvis to pelvis contact—allows for an individual to dip into the pool of my vulnerabilities and reach out to me. The leverage one has… to wield the power of healing or corruption— and the jolt experienced from your touch against my skin causes the transcendental silhouette of my being to become water as it returns back to the very pool in which we both stand. To become one with the sadness around me and disguise myself from being captured, warding off others with the unbearable salinity of my tears, yet I am still vulnerable nonetheless. You can take a sip and I will heal you still, though I can flush you out until all you can witness are the waterfalls within my eyes that pool and gently trickle down my cheeks.

Maileta /// the well within me

It seems as though

The intimacy I long for dearly

Will come at a price.

The sweetness between pretty legs

In exchange

For the fulfillment

Of that empty space

Beside me.

Maileta /// quid pro quo, it seems

“Because my emotions can be destructive

Not only to myself,

But to others too.

And I’m tired of losing people because of it…”

Maileta /// never again

pick me apart until i’m nothing but crushed daisies on a sidewalk,

until i’m dreams dashed on the pavement.

pick me apart, love…

pull at my seams,

drag on my soul,

weigh down my world with your burdens.

i will wear them til i drown,

and meet your diligence with my own.

so pick me apart, my love…

and i will hold my fragments in open palms for your perusal

until you take them, with pleasure,

your promises a riot on my heart…

your neglect, the rot i should’ve scented from the start

the sun sets;

and earth meets moon

it rises, and the tides rise too

in awe, they stare

silenced by the other’s beauty

interrupted by daylight

before they ever exchange a word

dusk turns to dawn

and we trip over our hearts in the dark

collecting them…

weighing them

knowing we might grow apart

but hoping our love will last

the connection is dim,

but not yet dark

sometimes time

reveals the spark

throw the bone to the wolves;

no mice are out today

the cat is coughing up a lung

and this game’s too big to play

i’m mixing up my metaphors

because you’ve shaken up my brain

the only thing i know for sure

is that you’re the one who got away

forget me

i’m frozen

winter’s cheek rests on mine

like a familiar pillow-friend

forgive me

he whispers

for where you wrote our beginning,

i must call our end

each time we meet, us two,

familiar strangers… me and you

one, a dreamer, lost in the clouds

two, the pen, she can’t quite put down

no warrior of Wednesdays,

no midweek-mad marauder,

my tank is running empty;

i’m a survivor, not a soldier

Oh those spring afternoons filled with bird song and laughter, drunk on the afternoon sun and clear breezes.

Would anybody be interested in book reviews or book recommendations after I finish reading them?

I’ve gotten back into reading an awful lot now and thought I could start a book club or book reviews tag on my blog for people to find easily. Plus I’ve just been given a week off work so I have a lot of reading time on my hands!

Let me know if that’s something you guys would be interested in seeing here!!

Hope the start of your week has been wonderful!

- Finn <3

Professional?

I know I’ve shared this before but I’m not scrolling through my archives to reblog it it was quicker to just make a new post. I’m going to be sharing a few poems from my Vocal page.

Vocal has made a few updates, they’ve introduced a little feedback thing you can give to writers at the bottom of our pieces but they’ve now also made commenting on peoples work available. So if you like my work of have feedback or anything on it feel free to leave a comment or feedback. You can also give it a heart/like if you wish although idk if you need an account for that tbh.

Vocal does also have an option to leave a tip which is never expected but always appreciate or if you prefer I now have tipping on tumblr as well as my Ko-Fi which I have the link to on my Vocal and there you’ll also find access to exclusive poems for supporters.

Enlightened

An exclusive poem about Bipolar and it’s cycles. Filled with hope it documents my journey towards recovery after breaking free from the constant Bipolar cycles that have been with me since I was a teen. It uses nature elements throughout & has an uplifting tone.

Keep reading

My

starlight in a bottle boy,

burning up from the inside.

My beloved supernova.

Finally come to end it all?

Finally going to let us rest?

Solar flare,

don’t you dare

burn

our house

down.

Time can only

heal the entry wound of the

poison barb

you left inside me:

rotting love,

festering longing -

purple toxin living in my

blood.

Your hand in

my hand,

but

time struck and

you stumbled —

down,

down,

down —

oh,

were our shattered knees

and

scraped hands,

blood-tinged teeth —

were they worth it?

(Was it worth it to

clasp

our hands

so tightly that

one circle, two —

rings of fire,

surrounding us both

forever?)

My once known shadow,

but my forever estranged enemy,

held me so tenderly when I gave him what he longed for:

goodbye.

You love that little blade:

cradle it’s handle oh so gently.

Sing it soft songs to sleep.

Warm it’s metal with your rest laden body.

You love that little blade -

even when it cuts.

Have you ever loved in scales?

Perfect balance?

Perfect symmetry?

Each step mirrored -

where one goes, the other

follows?

The smallest shift in weight can

jar the balance -

a breath,

a kiss,

a tear,

a moment.

A clang as joints disband.

A crash to the floor as you

spin out of orbit.

It will never be the same.

You will never be the same.

But -

But,

once,

you were lucky enough to

love

in scales.

Once,

you were whole and

perfect.

Oh,

sweet memory,

the icy blade between my

bones.

Oh, sweet love,

the ailment lingering in my

blood.

Oh, sweet agony,

burning through my

lungs.

Oh, sweet lover,

lost from me

forever.

Oh, sweet sadness:

eternal companion and

penance.

And he saved you from

disaster and ruin,

your beautiful fire-starting boy.

The flames he lets lick your

salt-soaked remains

don’t change that.

Many times,

he saved you.

Many times.

(It only takes once for

destruction

to lay waste.)

(It only takes

forever for a

heart to break.)

Carved your name into my

cold bones

and was stunned when you showed yours:

pristine.

Something tender,

something sweet;

loveliness found in

rotten meat.

And what of falling stars,

and crashing waves?

What of split tectonic plates?

What of

you,

me,

us,

and the yawning chasm

between?

(Do you still say my name like

the only

prayer

you’ve ever

known?)

And I wonder when I’ll stop

seeing your face

in every

tragedy and

betrayal.

One word,

never uttered,

forever lingering in my mouth

and

burning eyes.

One word I wished I had the courage to say:

Stay.

I opened my arms to comfort you

and

you went for my throat with a snarl.

Monsters need love, too

(but only on their terms).

I’m so tired of this

heartache

wrapped in

barb wired love.

Darling,

you are an

axe hammer

and, I -

a sheathed blade.

Do not forget:

we are both weapons.

(I know how to cut, too.)