My Poem - Blog Posts

You're sticking me with pieces

Of someone else's journey.

Weaving in some strangers theories.

But just know that

I'll never be enough,

I'll always be empty.

Starving,

For a truth of my own.

Waiting for my own soul,

To be mixed with the newness in me.

Because I'll always be a reject,

Of someone's memory

Unless I write my own.

Only then

I'll be enough.

-simra . T

•°F I R E F L I E S °•

But how will you grow without failing ?

You cant keep wishing upon the stars to guide you through the light

Ive seen you,

Seen how you hide sunshine in your pockets and grow flowers in the dark.

Why wont you do it now,

I'll guide you home,

From beginning of the dawn.

To the setting of the sun,

Ill set you free.

F A D E A W A Y

I lost sense of self as I watched myself fading away with time.

Making me a museum of memories;

A figment of your imagination.

An immolation,

An abstract thought.

- the result of desire.

Out of love.

Why say goodbye when you dont mean it ?

Why did I do what I have done ?

Why did I cry Infront of you, begging you to come back and you let me go once again.

And I was left on my own, for the hundredth time.

With love left in my heart for you.

And as I waited for us ,

I ran out of love for you.

Cotton Filled Ears

The person who has been with me thick and thin.

The person who loved me when I don’t feel loved.

The person who gave me life.

Is the person who deserves my upmost loyalty.

And yet…something about you changed.

Your eyes are the same ivy green gaze.

Your voice is still as powerful as the unshakable gods above.

Your ears are able to hear my song.

Yet, when I am distressed at the man you call husband.

All I get is numb green eyes.

A voice of uncertainty.

And cotton filled ears.

LISTEN TO ME! JUST PLEASE LISTEN TO ME! LISTEN!

I JUST WANT YOU TO LISTEN! WHY CAN’T YOU LISTEN?!

WHY CAN’T YOU SEE MY SOUL I BEAR TO YOU?!

WHY. Why must I suffer alone? I don’t want to be alone.

Not again…why am I alone? Why do I feel so…

Am I doomed to venture in this alone?

Can’t I get help for this pain?

The answers…are yes.

It’s hard. It’s fucking hard to venture into the unknown pain alone.

But I have survived worse.

I WILL TAKE DOWN THIS PAIN.

Go away you cotton eared creature.

Go away broken souled husband.

I want my mother back.

I want my peace back.

For I am….a knight.

I wish I can hug you.

I wish to hold your hand.

I wish a lot of things when your not here.

Even though it’s only for a couple of hours..it’s a bit hard for me at least.

You might not feel the same way but when I’m with you my anxiety flutters away.

You make me feel whole....but is that right?

I mean it’s romantic but is it healthy? Am I overthinking again? I’m sorry...

I just...I guess I will stick with one thing right now and not overthink it’s meaning.

I love you.

I know deep down if I can try I can do things without you but their just a lot more funnier with you by my side!

Yeah...you don’t complete me, I don’t NEED you but...I want you to be here with me.

I want you and me to grow old together, maybe have a kid I don’t know lol...

But I want to experience things with you...so yeah :D

...I was just gonna go to the market for a bit but now you made me cry you lovable bean.

Noooooo! I’m sorry I didn’t want to make you cry!

WELL YOU DID! NOW COME HERE! Imma hug you forever!

AHHH! nO! thE hUgs ArE tOo sTrONg!

They then hugged and cuddled each other for hours! The End.

Song that inspired this “wish u were here” by Wish oh the Beat! Check out the song it’s real good for vibes...have a great day! :D

ROSES

He loved the roses

even when it's thrones hurt him

for the rose was a sight to behold

and his love unbound

But he forgot that

it would not last forever

until he was left

with nothing but his pain and loss..

By c&p..

Ballad of a beautiful woman

I wake up in a strange room, the sheets are sticky and the clothes are dirty.       Last night my body was not mine. We met in a bar, he offered me a drink and told me I was beautiful;       that I was hot. He told me: “I enjoy your company. Come with me.” He brought me to an art gallery, he showed me what he liked, he asked for my thoughts. He kissed me, he tied my wrists: he told me to beg,       he called me a whore. He hit me, I didn’t like it. He hit me again.       I asked for more.

It’s morning and I wake up in another bed. This man was less rough, he kissed my skin and caressed my body;       he said that a woman like me deserved worship. We met again. And again, and again. He became more talkative during sex. He started saying that I had a perfect body, that I was a gift from the gods,       that I was made for him. When I told him I was moving he begged me to stay.       Two weeks later he was at my door.       He broke in.       I was on the bed.

I wake up in the middle of the night. I’m alone. Many men approached me during the evening, each of them with a lascivious look.       I turned them down. I laid in my bed and I cried.

      There is no love for me in this world. Only pity and shallow lust.

One of us is dead.

It's dark outside, it's dark inside

I woke up from the crash without you beside.

It's dark outside, it's dark inside

All I can feel is my hand covered in blood that's dried.

A blaze of light, an ear-splitting screech

Before I could grasp, you were out of reach.

A blaze of light, an ear-splitting screech

While we desperately try to hold on to each.

The world upended, everything still

What just happened? Was it real or just a drill?

The world upended, everything still

A feeling down my spine, is it blood or just a chill?

I lay there, feeling the time cease

Exhausted as the pain increased.

I lay there, feeling the time cease

Wishing I could just sleep in peace.

Days skip ahead, Weeks skip ahead,

You don't see the tears I shed.

Days skip ahead, Weeks skip ahead,

You don't hear a word I said.

I lose count, Time skips ahead,

And I realize one of us is dead.

Thoughts from the ledge

Standing on top of the tower one night,

Knees shaking from fight or flight,

Cold wind swishing past my numb face

As my heart starts picking up its pace.

I took a minute to look around

The shops, the people and the city's sound

Massive buildings standing upright

Others with their blue and red neon lights.

Then I stared at the ground below,

And how it would feel to finally let go

Twenty-something but I've felt enough

That I stand on the ledge and not to bluff.

I saw many streets that I still couldn't name

I've been here for two decades, what a shame!

That's when the irrational optimism kicks in

To hold on to the ledge, to find strength within.

So I step back and sit to clear my mind

To think of everyone I'd have to leave behind,

Places I'll never be, and moments I'll never seize,

And just maybe, in between life I'll find my peace.

Surpassing mess

Something's haunting me from within

With teeth, claws, and an evil grin.

Unlike what the movies show

Mine doesn't mess with lights and photos.

I don't live in a haunted house,

Nor do I own the dybbuk box.

So why am I troubled when I try to sleep?

Why is my sanity so hard to keep?

Do you know what's even peculiar?

It's how much all this feels familiar!

They've been living within me all this while

Things I shoved down and never reconciled.

My brain can be a surpassing mess

Make the entire horror genre seem witless.

Because I don't live in a haunted house

Nor do I own the dybbuk box

But do you hear a girl constantly weep?

Until I finally fall asleep.

For a second or two

Sometimes I fall in love with strangers,

For a second or two or some more.

Not for the thrill or dangers,

For the kindness, simplicity, and whatnots.

That someone on a park bench

Petting a random dog,

And then someone by the swing

Helping a kid back to her feet.

That someone at the next table

Smiling genuinely at the waiter,

And then someone at the handwash

Holding the door for an old woman.

I fall in love with strangers,

A second for how they look,

Two for their generous smile,

And some more for the random act of kindness.

The universe conspires you around such strangers

At that particular point in time out of all.

Because kindness conjures love.

Even if it's from a stranger.

A stranger,

Who will stop what they're doing

To fall in love with you.

For a second or two or some more.

Κάποτε το είχα αφήσει μισό... Βρήκα μία σπιθαμή όρεξη το τελείωσα...

Kinda old but still kinda shiny...

In my life, what is your role?

Are you only in a chapter that one day I will close?

Q: what do you want this year to feel like?

A: like sitting on your front porch with a midnight blue ceramic mug. it is filled to the brim with hot black coffee, the coconut milk still swirling. you are cupping it with both hands and holding it close to your chest, its golden rim glimmering in the early morning glow.

an herbal and floral steam rises from a pregnant earth that drips and dews, fills the air. a fine blanket of warmth falls over your face, your home, as sunlight begins to travel across and down and up and through. the snow is melting. it’s all melting. time is but a faint whisper these days, though you still wear it as a necklace. you take a sip. a bird lets out a sharp cry. then stillness. a car zooms by. then stillness. then stillness.

From Dusk Till Dawn

Rising and setting, back to back

Sunrises and sunsets, two sides of a coin

One watches the world awaken with a “hello”

The other says “goodbye” to the world as it slumbers

A gentle touch of pink,

Spreading across a dull blue sky,

The sun peeps over the horizon,

A glowing gold, shifting across the sky,

Hello, hello

Watching the sun rise from a dormitory roof,

Taking pictures of the quiet world,

A happy memory of the dawn,

Violet shades and periwinkle colours,

Fade away into brighter flames,

Orange, red, pink; set sparks to the west,

The flames are chased by night-time colours,

Goodbye, goodbye,

Gazing into the sunset,

Relaxing, breathing, unwinding,

A new photo added to the album,

Meetings and partings, two sides of a coin

Back to back, the new page uncovered,

Many reunions and blessed memories,

Stored in this little sunrise and little sunset.

- Shinkai

People

Sometimes people won't appreciate your hard work. Sometimes people won't acknowledge your appearance. Sometimes people won't be there for you. Sometimes you can't always let those people get to you and tell you different.

Melt in my mouth like poetry

kiss my tears ever so delicately

hold me close to your heart

caress me on those dark nights

cage me in your love like never before

oh darling I still need your love

I still need your love.

You at 16

I couldn’t count it on my fingers and toes how much you were to me.

A never-ending waterfall fell from my mouth even at the slightest pin drop of you being around,

And suddenly,

I’m left to wonder where you are in the world.

I don’t know what you’re doing,

Who you’re with

Or what you like anymore.

Truly,

I don’t even know who you are.

If they asked me to tell them who you were I would recount a version from a two months ago.

Sixty days and a new world has passed by and replaced you with a stranger.

Goodbye to the two girls, inseparable, always hip to hip.

We took on each new adventure together.

Rolling ankles on netball courts, silly little passes and snickers.

Needles sewn through fingers, hot glue burns and endless loose threads.

Dancing in living rooms, laughing at the table that broke my toe.

And suddenly,

I can’t breathe.

It’s an onslaught I don’t expect.

I see you once,

Your hair is a new colour.

I see you twice,

And you look just like the little girl I met fourteen years ago.

Your tiny fists have winded me,

Keeled me over and told me to remember.

I scream at her, you, she, you,

“Who do I remember?”

Do I remember two chests heavy with dread,

Illusive freedom at our fingertips

And bitter words on our tongues?

Do I remember soft gentle hands,

Pushing my hair back,

Saying ‘it’s okay’,

Beckoning me to safety,

Calling for hours on end,

The fuzzy yells about expensive phone calls?

Do I remember

You at 6

You at 10

You at 13

You at 16

And then again

You two months ago,

Twenty almost touching your lips.

No more will we see the world from the same lense,

But I’ll always hold two little girls’ hands as I walk across the street.

The Prospects of Love

But, I am in love. In love with the eyes. In love with the lips. The way they bubble and crack To then mimic the softest of bed sheets. I am in love with fresh linen.  The way my legs feel freshly shaven  Over something so freshly cleaned. A poetic stance on the topic of new beginnings, The topic of rebirth. The littles that are seen in the most mundane items.  How they dance With the prospect  With the ability To be more. To be a metaphor. I am in love With the dog hair on my bright yellow chair.  Each strand bursting with the pure ability to love, Enhancing its stance against the fluorescent fabric. Simply, I am I love with love. -T

"And one day I realised all I could do was give up and lay down, let it go. Or," They talked like they were stripping. Taking of their layers and showing them the ruined city beneath, daring almost pleading for them to run away from her darkness. "Destroy their dreams as finely as they did mine. Make the stars combust and become something so destruction that I laugh as their cities are blown away by burning starlight falling from the sky. I think my body had become too cold and numb for real fury, so that I decided," she looked up at them, regretful but also... defiant, andry. "To let fire speak for me. Because justice darling" cynically they ended "was never an option. "

All that blood was never pretty,

But they did so love the sound of warhorns,

Perhaps they went into every battlefield thinking,

This time it'll be rubies instead.

I was made from mismatched pieces,

God's leftovers,

A warrior's heart,

And a dreamer's mind

And a gentle soul

And a chaotic existence.

Then they shoved me in this tiny little useless body, and sent me into battle.

Without ever teaching me to fight,

Or bothering with armour.

—I was never meant to survive, was I?

10/idk follow and reblog to support

Maybe we're all tragedies,

Covered in skins

too stubborn to be tragic.

fingertips

my fingertips barely touch the surface of the mirror, in what reflects my most vivid of dreams. to be loved, touched like I’m a secret that’s meant to be told, and a reflection that’s seen but never meant to be shown.

i imagine what it feels to be admired, to match an energy so surreal my dreams can’t even begin to create a scene so magical. so what is it? will i ever be loved, respected, praised, or celebrated?

my fingertips have calluses from wrists bruised with scars deeper than stains. calluses so thick I can’t feel what I want to, and I don’t know how to react. to myself, to the world, and to anything at all.

so I shout, and I scream. and no one hears anything. maybe one day, I’ll be able to finally feel something.