#poetry community
‘Liminal’ Poem
Written by The Silicon Tribesman. All Rights Reserved, 2020.
It smells different here now. The air doesn’t smell sweet like pancakes and cinnamon instead everything smells like a fire that won’t stop. The other day I tried to make something for breakfast, and I was proud of myself because I’ve been skipping breakfast for so many weeks now. But the toast turned into ashes, and honey, they say oil and water shouldn’t be mixed together so why the hell were we together? I think we were two molecules that tried to be together until we noticed that one of us was broken. I don’t mean to sound irrational but I just want to ask you, do you think someone out there will salvage the air we once inhaled together?
-Alexa Evangelista, my head is underwater
How do you expect me to feel
when you put the entire
universe inside my heart?
And then one day you decided to
burn everything we nurtured?
The sun died and the clouds
weren’t even crying.
The flowers stood still,
and I cut off the thorns
on all of the roses you gave me
because what was the point of
trying to save them from the wild?
My chest felt like a love struck
battleground, and I was just sitting
next to the armor. Now everyone can
see that I’m not the same person
who once had the entire universe beating
inside the heart that once lived.
-Alexa Evangelista, the book I’ll never finish writing
I’m glad I got to experience the experiences that I experienced. They left scars and heartaches behind but I am who I am because of it. All of the colours added to my life that is indeed a masterpiece. Pure flesh-tearing art. I suffer for the beauty. Art indeed.
*sneakily shares a glance with the moon, fleabag style, as if we share a secret*
I was thinking of a word;
it sat on the tip of my tongue and yet I refused to share it.
Refused to let it fall out of my mouth like
semi melted butter would slide across bread…
A kind of gliding that I am not yet good at.
I was thinking a thought.
A thought that quickly made me feel something warm.
I could feel it hot against my skin; red scattering across my cheeks
like a mask that I had no choice but to wear.
You didn’t notice. Wrapped up in your own thoughts, I’m sure.
Like the way you wrap your fingers around a glass of whiskey; tight.
I had started to write about the word.
The word that we both held in the caverns of our throats; in the dark.
Shadowed against burning fires that were extravagant but didn’t keep us warm enough.
The word tried to keep us warm.
The word created actions that we couldn’t help but act out;
jumping into rivers without thinking twice about drowning.
I think the word made us love each other.
There are so many things that happen due to this one little word.
This one word that we can’t help but fall into.
This one word that we feel belongs in our everyday blood stream.
I whisper the word under my breath just barely and wonder if you hear it;
wonder if you heard it, if you would react…
Would you reach out and try to hold something real?
Peel back the layers that I’ve held deep under the surfaces of flesh and bone?
I wonder what an utterance of the word would bring into existence…
Would it bring about love? Hatred? Anger? Denial? Sadness?
I close my eyes tight and I whisper into the room full of echos;
into the chambers of the life we live…
Disguised.
Did you hear me?
I always struggle with myself and who I am. I have a hard time dealing with things like imposter’s syndrome and anxiety. I overthink and tend to care very much about what other’s think of me. It often breaks me and then I become filled with stubbornness and anger. I shut down and refuse to continue on in my life and I realize that this ends up hurting me more in the long run. It hurts me to constantly make myself small because I am so afraid of being told all of the things that were told to me in my childhood; that I am so unworthy of any kind of platform or voice.
I try to be proud of how far I have come in my life (personal and writing) and be happy but it’s so hard. I feel like I’m constantly fighting with myself; constantly convincing myself that I am worthy of love and this art that I sometimes hate with all of my heart but words keep saving me. Words keep bringing me back out of myself and showing me the way to my own happiness. At the end of everyday of my life, after I’ve done everything I can to pull my happiness from others I find myself disappointed until I release here. In this way. In this form. This is the only way I know .
’ but I wanted to share this and say, I truly appreciate everyone who sticks around and reads my work and shows me love and appreciation. It’s amazing how much I have grown just by joining this amazing, insane, random, beautiful community. This is literally the first time I’ve written in maybe a month? and it turns out I had two pieces inside of me so here you go! I haven’t ever done one of these before here but it’s a poem within a poem… You can read it on the first slide or you can swipe and read on the next slide (separately).
Thank you again for following/liking/sharing/commenting. I truly appreciate all you
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than a Flower
I keep being reminded.
Keep seeing myself in your eyes;
the reflection of myself creating a new feeling.
You whisper in my ear and I let it linger.
I let you walk away and find myself huddled alone
in the corner, memorizing the words of another new
language happily [being alone]. I scribble into
journals and decide it’s good enough
to feel it and then let it out.
I find ways to distract myself and
empty the over kill into
pots and pans that I eventually
throw out [stop holding on].
Reminding myself that self pity is
trash and I don’t need
it to acknowledge the pain.
I don’t need you to see it for me
to heal it but you do see it.
You tell me all the time not to be
shy but I don’t know if I’m shy or just full of shame.
I push through the feeling of dying to share
what I keep in the part of my ribcage I never
let you touch and you hold me. You reward me
with the thing you don’t even label as “reward” but
I would do anything to feel your love heavy against
my skin so I keep breathing, pushing, trying, crying,
dying, falling apart in front of you,
vulnerability eating
me alive right before your eyes, smiling…
You keep reminding me… It’s okay to want to be alive
even if it feels like everything could be dead inside.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than A Flower
I need you doesn’t seem
powerful enough even when I
speak it out loud. You don’t
feel the urgency in my texts
either; saying, “I know, baby but
I’m here, okay?” I can’t seem to
get myself out of the loop; the
worst of me placed on repeat in
my mind so I cry. When you hold me
I feel good inside until it’s time for
you to roll over and close your eyes…
I sleep in your clothes to try to keep
myself from believing that you don’t
love me. The smell of you surrounding me,
helping me fall asleep but even in my
dreams, the demons speak. "He never
loved you.” "They’ll always leave.”
I wake up and you’re there but I can’t
feel you. I don’t feel the love you hold
for me; numbness spreads over me and
I feel the lies penetrating. You look at me
worried and I smile through the pain;
“Don’t look insane. He’s done nothing
to make you feel this way.” You kiss me
and it silences my brain for just a little…
I find myself distracted; laughing until
I’m alone and the inward reflections are
nothing but hate speech and degradation.
When I cry you ask me why and all I can
say is, “It’s so scary inside my brain.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I haven’t felt like being vulnerable, like sharing, or being raw for a while now because I’m exhausted. I have had so much time during this quarantine/lockdown to sit with myself and it’s been hard for me. I have realized that I haven’t healed as much as I thought I had… That I have a lot of bad habits, 0 coping skills, codependency/abandonment/trust issues, self-esteem issues, etc, etc… I started therapy again to try and deal with my issues and maybe find some solace. I always come back to this search for solace… I’m not sure if I’ll find it anytime soon but at least I’m writing again (here and there…)
So, anyways… Here’s a poem. I hope to talk more about this shit in the future because this space has always been a place where I felt like I could share, where I could possibly help someone feel less alone and maybe more understood… Mental health is so hard; it’s so different for everyone… As is the path to finding healing and peace… I hope that you know that if you struggle with feelings of worthlessness, self-hatred, shame, guilt, intrusive thoughts… Whatever… You’re not alone and we’re gonna be okay eventually. We just have to keep fighting… Keep trying. You are loved even if you can’t feel it right now.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than A Flower
Recording moments:
2:34 a.m. July 19th, 2020
He falls asleep while I play with his hair
after he tells me my bare skin is cold and
wraps me up in his arms. Radiating warmth;
I wonder if it’s just the way he makes me
feel. He stares into my eyes until he can’t
fight it anymore and I kiss his lips gently
before untangling my fingers and soaking
up all the safety he offers before falling asleep.
It feels like a dream before the dreaming
even begins… It’s one of my favorite feelings.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than A Flower
I wanna talk about the way you touch me
when you’re not paying too much attention;
when your fingertips brush across my skin
quickly and gently, almost as if it didn’t
happen at all. Those moments leave me
feeling breathless; craving for more. When
you find yourself lost in the coffee that swirls
in my eyes, butterflies don’t just flutter in my
stomach, they sing. Bringing flowers to bloom.
I hear them talking in the depths of my soul;
chattering on about how you’re the one and I swoon.
Melting into the river of emotions I can never seem
to dry out; I flow through so quickly that
I’ve lost my breath all over again and…
It. Feels. So. Good.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than A Flower
I climb into the covers and try to hide the shame that I feel.
Trying to keep you from seeing how much I want to be destroyed;
let me be missing in action. Bottom of the ocean kind; washed
away, sins taken off of the skin I could never love. Full of hatred and
then… Release. Completely undone, my sobs sound like screams
being choked out; I can’t get ahold of the air. Underwater I struggle to
push myself out of the depths, out of the sadness [brokenness]
that I can’t help but embrace. [What would I be without this pain?]
You try to comfort me and I spit venom in your eyes just
to get you to turn your face away from mine, embarrassed by
the reflection of myself in your eyes. Yet you come back,
you take the shirt off your back to wipe away the poison
and wrap your arms around my body until I can no longer
fight you. Tears roll down my face as I gasp for air;
shivers run down my spine as you kiss away all of the pain
until I’m numb. I can’t feel anything except the high that you
bring to the forefront of my mind. You whisper, “rest” but
I can’t. I dig my claws into your back and bring your flesh to
mine; ecstasy taking away the sadness and replacing it
with lustful love. Addicted to the way you make me feel I
beg for it until you’re exhausted. I take until you break and
then the shame washes over me again. A sick cycle I can
never seem to break.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than a Flower
What if all the love I’ve given you destroys me? Tears me apart and leaves me hollow; completely empty… Lost to the cold wilderness? Dead. -ReBecca DeFazio
you reach for me
and i breathe
into you.
you’ll never catch me
saying “no.” envelope me
in your arms, lips to neck
and i’m yours. i find that
we’re at our best when we’re
under covers figuring things out
and i could try to romanticize us
but it would never fucking compare.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than A Flower
We find each other again;
we melt into words that lead
to actions that cause feelings
to explode into the space that
we thought would be empty
forever. We crawl through the
briers that grew from trauma,
stress, and silence; misunderstandings
leading to mistrust and heartbreak…
Knees bleeding, we remember
who we are. In the light and in
the shadows; finding each
other’s lips, fingertips, and
hearts still alive; still grasping
for one another’s flesh…
For one another’s affection,
validation, love. We admit
that we will never find
another connection like ours
and we give into the raw.
We give into the now. Where
pride and fear of rejection no
longer exist… Where we’re
more than flaws and perfections.
We see the damage done and
kiss it away; begging for forgiveness
from one another until the days
become lighter and the love
becomes fuller. We remember
what it is to love; teenagers again
looking into each other’s eyes
accepting that we’re so flawed…
But so loved.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than A Flower
We never cliff dived;
never found ourselves lost.
We had a plan; a plan to be anything
except our parents. A plan to be
okay; thriving. In love. Happy.
And we’ve come so far but
I’m tired of safety; maybe this
feeling is coming from my
self destructive heart.
We both know that sometimes it
tends to boil over but maybe it’s just
that I feel safe anywhere you are.
So let’s jump. Let’s move to France
and learn a new language. Let’s
raise the children with love
and freedom and cultures that
aren’t our own. Let them bear
witness to our love story.
Let them tell their friends and
spouses stories of us laughing
hysterically while dancing in the
kitchen at midnight in a new
country, our kitchen is feeling a little
small lately and I would love
to spend a night lost in Paris with you.
Lost. Blissfully lost.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than A Flower
Sometimes when you’re lying next to me, fingers tangled in my hair while your hand rests on my cheek… When you’re fast asleep… My heart physically aches; like love has filled me up so much that I can hardly contain it and if I don’t cry, I’ll explode. My throat feels like a volcano ready to erupt; my breathing short. I never ever would have guessed that this is what love felt like. - ReBecca DeFazio (More Than A Flower)
I haven’t written everyday since January. I second guess everything even my own skin - should it look this way? What could I do to change it? Why do I think like this? Shouldn’t I learn to love myself? When do I find the soul hitting questions to help myself solve all the “hard” questions? Why haven’t I found “my people?” Why didn’t I spend more time finding my place on the East Coast, in New York? Why are there so many writers but so little conversation? It must be me. I’m always avoiding. Always running away. Always afraid that I’m not who I am. I read books and I cry. I watch movies and I cry. I wish I could write again and I cry but I don’t write. I wait. I listen. I cry. You hold me sometimes, sometimes you don’t even know. I’m sneaky when I want to be [ashamed of how I can never seem to pick up the pieces]. I’m trying to find happy in myself instead of finding it in those around me. When they don’t understand me I break- I feel they must be right. I must be so hard to fucking love. I must be so god damn difficult… I don’t see it. He doesn’t see it (or he does but he doesn’t care, I think…) I don’t know.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than A Flower