#young poets
Wether it’s the hope of love
The grief of love
The lesson of love
Or the regret of love
Once you have loved
It always remains
༄
You said you wanted all of me
So here I am
Darkness
Melancholy
Rage
Why are you walking away?
༄
With you
I am drowning
In despair
I breathe
Incurable sadness
Not air
༄
The day will still come
No matter how hard you close your eyes
The night will kiss the day goodbye
Painting colors in the sky
Welcome the darkness
Embrace the light
Don’t fight against the up’s and down’s of life
༄
when i was eleven, my older brother passed away. he was fourteen, he loved blink 182 and the offspring, he played guitar and was even a part of a band (MFIC; motherfuckers in charge). he was impatient but kind, and he was the best brother i could have asked for. it has been nine years since he passed and i have forgotten what his voice sounded like.
i have forgotten what it was like to have a constant companion, someone who was always there to talk to. when he was with me, i felt protected. nobody could hurt me with my big brother there. he never let anyone rag on me, even if he was actively doing so (which was often.)
i loved my brother dearly, even though he most likely regarded me as the annoying kid sister most of the time. I liked to be wherever he was, doing whatever he was doing. i admired him more than i had or ever will admire somebody else, with no regard to how irritated he would get at my constant presence. nobody likes to hang out with their little sister 24/7.
looking back i am glad i pestered him so much to play with me, as now i have more memories to look back on. like playing on the stairs that led up to his room, slowly moving up each step until reaching the top, where i would be so loud and obnoxious until he came out and let me play the playstation with him.
or when we would play swords in the backyard, when we shot empty soda cans with bb guns, when he dared me to eat a jalapeno out of our mom’s garden (which i did, in one big bite.) and then had to run inside to get a glass of milk while i cried and blubbered in the middle of the yard. when we were playing storm troopers in the middle of winter, and my tongue got stuck to a metal pole.
while i may not remember his voice, his smell, or the small details of him as a person, i do have the memories of the time spent together. nine years have passed and my brother has become more of an idea than a person. i think about him everyday, if not when i wake up then before i fall asleep.
i think about what my life would be like with my big brother still by my side. would i carry the same ideas, would i have the same passions? who would i be had he not passed away? sometimes i wish i was her, oblivious to loss and able to live a complete childhood.
but i figure every life has a purpose, so does every death. in the short time i had my brother, i had the best childhood any kid could ask for. i had a partner in crime, who i thought would be there forever.
after nine years you would think you would find a way to fill that hole that is left in your hear after losing a loved one. you find ways to distract from it, to busy yourself. but you never find exactly what you need to feel complete again, simply because you are unable to.
i love you big brother, you stay in my heart always.
a slave to paranoia
I love you more than anything
I hate just as much
I wish you would feel
anything at all for me
How can I live without you?
How could I live with you?
My heart is broken
- MayAPoetBe (draft)
tell me
is this forever
am I doomed
to feel this way
-mayapoetbe
you are not trying to forget
what I did to you
you are trying to forget
everything at all
- mayapoetbe (draft)
the world keeps on spinning
as if we’re not in it
keeps on turning
as if it does not care
and we’re just not learning
to stay at a point
-MayAPoetBe (draft)
愛してる
Despertarme antes los fines de semana para poder escucharte se ha convertido en una parte muy arraigada de mi rutina. Cuento los minutos y las horas que me quedan para verte hasta que me duermo y vuelvo a despertar esas noches, que son transición del viernes al sábado, para continuar durmiendo, pero por lo menos esta vez a tu lado.
Anoche me acosté a la 1a.m., después de haber pensado que podríamos hablar, que podríamos vernos; pero no fue así y pensé: “Si mañana madrugo, podré estar con él, eso haré”. Ayer me sentí hermosa, vestía el mismo vestido con el que me presenté a tu madre, la única diferencia es que ya hacía tiempo de camisa en vez de jersey.
A lo largo del día le saqué fotos al cielo, muchas más de las que te suelo mostrar. Mi madre me vio y me dijo que quizás podíamos hacer un mural de ellas en la pared, porque ninguno de nosotros llega al techo, pero para eso aún me quedan muchos días para poder hacer tantas fotos de las nubes de Madrid como para poder llenar mi pared. Quiero pensar que con cada foto que saco, estoy más cerca de ti, pero puede que sea otro de mis desvaríos.
Hoy me levanté a las 6a.m. y me estabas esperando con todo listo: en la cama, con los audífonos y las luces apagadas y te marqué. Hablamos un poco de las cosas que habían estado pasando: tu hermano te preguntó por mí, pensé en ti… Comenzaste a tener sueño y te dije:
- Vamos a dormir Toto, hoy ha sido un día largo, toca descansar. - Pero en el fondo, hablarte en este estado era un sinónimo descarado de hablarle a la nada, pues ya te encontrabas en un lugar al cual yo no podía entrar.
Todo estaba totalmente en silencio, y de repente dijiste:
- Porfa, no te vayas. No me dejes solo.
En ese instante, comencé a preguntar por dentro quién te había hecho tanto daño como para que tuvieras miedo a que me marchara mientras dormías.
“No, vida mía” - pensé. - “Sería ridículo marcharme ahora que he encontrado a algo que me hace tan feliz. Ningún poeta en su sano juicio deja escapar al arte y a todos sus poemas de amor más sincero una vez se han hecho carne. Y es que la idea de perderte marchita los nomeolvides de mi corazón. No quiero que temas, no quiero desprenderme de tu lado, y si lo hago, que sea para encontrarnos en otro tiempo o en otra vida”
Mientras que todo eso sonaba en mi cabeza, caí rendida de nuevo sobre mi almohada y volvimos a dormir juntos otra vez más hasta que me volví a despertar. Pero decidí quedarme contigo un ratito más mientras dormías, porque no quería dejarte solo, porque quería que recibieras mis abrazos y mis más sinceros besos.
Al cabo de un rato colgué, para comenzar mi vida aquí, para vestirme, limpiar, comer y hacer deberes. Cuando despertaste te conté lo que ocurrió y me dijiste que lo que me habías dicho mientras dormías debió de salir de lo más hondo de tu corazón. Volví a preguntarte sin qué me oyeras, quién había sido tan cruel de llenar de temores tales, a alguien tan bueno como tú.
Me has dado las gracias por quererte, por estar contigo, por no dejarte solo; en otras palabras: me diste las gracias por todo. Yo te pregunté si hacía falta que te dijera que te amaba en japonés para que lo entendieras por una vez en 6 meses que llevábamos juntos.
Tú directamente me respondiste con los caracteres que resolvían mi duda: 愛してる. Así, tan tranquilo, me dijiste: <<Así es como se escribe>>. Se me hizo bonito, tierno, como cualquier cosa que sale de ti.
Ahora, observando esos cuatro caracteres en mi pantalla, sigo sin entender como terminamos dónde estamos. No entiendo como terminé con alguien que comprende mis chillidos y conoce casi todos mis cambios. Eres la persona que se sabe el cambio de mis cejas cuando me enojo, y cuantas notas baja mi voz cuando tengo sueño. Eres la única persona que me ha visto con las mejillas más rojas que las acuarelas de mi mesa, y la que ha conseguido escuchar mi voz como nadie más me ha podido oír.
Soy incapaz de barajar la idea de perderte, si lo único que me viene a la cabeza en cuanto pienso en ti, son todos los lugares que vamos a visitar a medida que nos hagamos mayores. Me resulta inevitable no pensar en nuestra casa, en nuestros gatos, en los platos de nuestra tierra que le enseñaremos y las miles de vueltas que daremos al mundo gracias a un avión, o sin irnos muy lejos, también con un colchón.
Si algún día entras y ves esto, quiero que sepas que esta propuesta siempre será para ti, Salvatore. Que sepas, que no me iré a ningún lado, que te acompañaré hasta donde nos alcance la imaginación. Porque los grandes amores, son compañeros, y un compañero no abandona al otro.
愛してる Salvatore Di Vita.
“Never a Movie Came to an End” ~ poetry
In my dream you came to life
You are now so out of my sight
Your body, I can’t touch no more
You don’t feel real, just like before.
Your voice softens my heart
And I wish I could go back to the start
Years and years I would rewind
Just for you to again be mine.
In you I’ve never seen cruelty
Only the day you’ve turned against me
There wasn’t any wrong that I made
But I lost this game we played
We were nothing but we had it all
Yet you made me feel super small.
Perhaps you never cared about this
That’s why your hands danced in my hips
Never a movie came to an end
So easy it was for you to pretend.
After all I know what was going in your head
‘I wanna take her to my bed’
I thought it was fine, because you’re a man
But I wanted to be loved instead…
~By 2SoulsCollide
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From a young age our minds are filled with
false expectations that our lives must be
riveting, we must be grand to matter.
We learn how quickly people fade
from every memory, thus starting a
desperate attempt to be eternal.
It is near effortlessly to inadvertently
forget to love the softer aspects of life
in light of trying to create something endless.
Sometimes we all forget to live,
we let experiences pass by attempting
to manifest future happiness.
There is endless love in this world,
sometimes hiding in ways we may
never know, so easily missed out on.
We put so much pressure on ourselves
not to be forgotten and accidentally
forget what it is all for.
-[i.r.]
[04.22.22.]
Why must I always
feel like I am dying
The rusted cogs
Ceasing to breathe—
My conviction
Grinding to a halt?
Madness eats
My crime is life
A reflection
Mirrored
In bloody sheen
It’s all too sterile,
All too white gray
The marked path
Traveled by droves
of certain men
Without value
I continue on
Diminished by
My still-beating heart
For on the rooftop
There is a weed
Damned be its growth
In direct path
Of an unforgiving sun
Warmth emanates from
the singular chimney
Housed within the heart
Of a drafty mansion
It’s where the deer go
To lie upon rickety floorboard
As sparrows acquaint themselves
With the abandoned rocking chair
Preening their worries away
Serenity melded with serendipity
The course of the universe
Ivy stretching over bricks
Decomposition of matter
And the soul
How I would love to lay in a flower field
The waving grasses cradling my form
As cold spring air gushes over the hill
Kissed by a lenient sun
- - -
An Internal Dispute From Sleep Deprivation
Blatant words befalling blue lips
Smeared the color of sadness
Tri-coated depression
What is art to sadness but apples to applesauce
thefortymillionsomethingpoems
Some statement minus punctuation and declarations of woeful broken love
Gorge upon the sales of music to public ears
I gave my blood, the likes which you’ve never seen and apparently do not want
Pages of fine ink multitudesofwordsmeaninglesswords
The alternative framework lost—
Eaten in the mainstream, some cherry picker we have to thank for this
Poets ought to rip the world to shreds with a pen
Splash ink onto pavement, blacken the world into a deep void
Gross schemes, where the fuck is reality?
I accidentally threw it down the garbage disposal
But the corporations forced my hand
The meaningless throb the echoes of time ticking sand
Mind wrenching melting numbness pain
Contradictory hell
What more is left to do? What more is to be achieved?
Light a metal garbage can,
Set all the books on fire
And all the art as well.
Ichor of old gods
Pitter-patters solemnly
Gaia drinks her fill
—
Deafened ears
Silent eyes
Rippled waters—
Reflecting murky skies
What remained
Laid in sullened tune
—With calla lilies
In godless demise
My organs wrung
Then clotheslined—
Like some
common rag
Discarded lungs—
Airbags for the worms
And my
once sharp tongue
Sits ’tween teeth
Delicately dead
This damp cavern
Punctured by
A singular watery tree
The branches splay
Beams of light
Where I lay—
Skin haloed
in mossy wreaths
Flowers before dusk
Curling from darkness,
How you shrink
So timidly inward
You fill yourself
With seas of fears
Though occupying
Minimal space
I would
Kiss your petals
If you
Loved me
||
Some nights I crave release
In loosed muscles
Over the beaming lights—
Polluted city skyline
Standing atop a tightrope
Roaming like a minor god
My insides disemboweled—
Numbing immortality
I want to linger in apathy
No inhibitions,
without criminal feeling—
Lonely contentedness
Breathing with intention—
Aeolus, commanding wind
My soul is drunk
Filled to the brim—
With hopes and dreams
Peace with the worms,
Consciousless things
How I’d like to join them
In holy matrimony
With the earth
As the skies weep
Crank me
Jack-in-the-box
Cricks of rusty parts
As music tinkles
Softly
Through floorboards
Dusty as the attic
And the locked chest
From where it came
Your fingers could
Draw lines
Into the age
Of that wooden box,
The one
With a precarious lid
It delights in your touch
Waits for the skip
Of your heart
When anticipation
Is empty
And
P O P
.
.
.
.
The spring dashes
Firmly into your eye
A lone thing
Without a clown’s company