becomingherself

[becomingherself]

trigger

Well then, say the words. I'll let your judgement linger.

Come on and preach it. I'm sorta used to pointing fingers.

Two hearts in a gloomy sunday, carving their own ways out of a mess,

but sentences must be given, even when questions are not asked,

I suppose.

So go on, say what you mean, I'll swallow a dose of your anger.

It will bleed a little, but not as much as it did in long months of grieving.

Words, of course they cut, but let clear conscience in charge of healing.

I don't plan on absolution, I'm not asking for the tourniquet to loose,

but before the cutting of heads, at least take a decent walk in my shoes.

[becomingherself]

on walking away

whenever I see you

it feels as packing my stuff

all over again

to walk the busy road

of my own choices

you're familiar with the weight

of saying goodbye first,

so you probably know

where I'm coming from,

don't you

it's just how you smile

and then look away with

sparkly tears throwing

themselves out your eyeballs

it's how I'm way too used

to your warmth

damn, doesn't it feel

good

it's how despite my pleas

you only connected

with me when I

was gone and

how we only learned

through pain

and it's just how

even though I'm gone

and even though life

might be healthier now,

whenever I see you,

it feels as packing my stuff

again

in a torn bag

I keep juggling all

these things as they fall

I wonder if I'll ever

get this bag fixed

it’s how some memories

keep ringing like a 

deafening white noise inside

my lungs, muting my

reasons to the point

they just asphyxiate

I have logically let go

already, I really have,

but then I see you again

and I just wish,

you know,

I really do wish.

[becomingherself]

rendez-vous

two years 

and just a minute ago

she asks me

if it was ever love.

I look down

my eyelids tremble 

unwittingly.

she adds “you wouldn’t have left, have you ever loved me”.

I feel her grudge,

so gentle, yet so loud,

as I carefully place my words on her conscience

“have you ever loved me, though, you wouldn’t have pushed me to leave”.

and so we depart

to never

again.

[becomingherself]

bzzzz

comfort is long forgotten

I no longer plan on pillow serenity

ever since the culling began,

my feelings are bare wires

wrapped tight around my neck

electrocuting everything

they

touch

and anyone

who dares 

to

help

[becomingherself]

carnage

How could you say I never loved you 

when I’ve made friends with hurt

grunting your name?

We’ve become intimate, close. 

While I’d give her a naive, gentle heart to ruin, 

she would allow me to breathe next to you. 

By then, it only seemed fair.

How could you say I was selfish 

when I’ve made you wine with my own blood, 

cutlery with my own ribs and food 

with my own lungs? 

How could you say I did not try enough 

when I have offered my every organ as 

a sacrifice for better days to come?

You've given cruelty a new design.

Now how am I to resurrect without a body?

How am I to depart my soul from circling in your orbit

when all the paths I’ve ever known

lead me right back to where I

once belonged?

[becomingherself]

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Thought I'd add some music to this blog since I'm feeling good...

[becomingherself]

rpg

Caught up in your

role playing games,

I was just wondering

if I will ever stop raiding

your ego and finally gain

some experience to level

up towards your armored heart.

Thought I’d let you know I am

actually running out of mana.

[becomingherself]

march the 8th

Should I care about these chocolates?

Smile gently and offer you the best of me

while you step on my sisters during

all the other 364 days of the year?

Cleaning, washing, working like a dog

forever knowing that in order to be promoted

I should help my ever so generous boss jerk off.

Nothing wrong with it though, since we’re all so devoted.

Yes, it is march the 8th, thanks for noticing.

We have indeed dealt with massive disrespect

and excruciating abuse only wishing for your flowers.

So we giggle and blush, say “they’re perfect!”.

Oh, you’re leveling your guns at me again,

thought you could handle 3 stanzas of blunt truth.

Well, nevermind, thanks for the flowers, they’re beautiful.

I know they really are the very best a chauvinist can do.

[becomingherself]

remnants

I had a dream last night

where you seemed happier than me.

You’ve given your heart to this girl

I could never compete with.

Such a wallflower like you,

a bit hippie and 100% vegan.

She could probably live like a nomad,

your favorite kind of pagan.

Meanwhile, I’m a busy architect

trying to buy an apartment at Windmills.

I work hard, talk loud, so urban,

and always pay the bills.

As I woke up, I started wondering:

Is it bad that my dream hurt?

I know we can’t be together,

but I guess I wish we still could.

[becomingherself]

my territory

Do not make haste to climb my mountains.

I am no land to be conquered.

My sex is not a fountain

offered to wanderers.

But if you plead to see the sun behind my hills,

rising with an overwhelming amber light,

I might calm my seas and ease the wolves

so you can safely spend the night.

[becomingherself]

speed limit

Please, do not rush my heart

through your busy streets.

I have learned the hardest way

to respect the maximum speed.

It is not that I don’t want to,

in fact, I am kamikaze like that,

but though bruises tend to heal,

fears remain intact.

So do not tempt me to love you

this recklessly, this fast,

or I will gift you what I’ve been given:

The best scar you have ever had.

[becomingherself]

departure

No, I cannot stay any longer.

The winds are calling, I must go.

There is nothing you can do or say

to make peace within my soul.

No, this is not where I want to be.

Guess you always knew I craved for more.

There is no need to lie here, I am certain

you could feel it at your very core.

I’m leaving you my favorite sweater

and all that’s left of what we once were.

May you find yourself, eventually,

now your nemesis is finally gone.

And if you ever miss me, my dear,

I beg you not to falter, please, stay strong.

You will never see me again, I promise,

for I am riding beyond the cliffs of no return.

[becomingherself]

Love your poetry! Have a good weekend :)

Aren’t you kind! Thank you very much, I’m glad you had a good time around here.

[becomingherself]

blind following

Floating above my own needs

and ignoring what’s best for me,

I have been following you.

Sleepwalking through this city’s

busiest avenue, it is known

I have been following you.

Singing my way out of this place where

you always put me in past tense,

I am still following you.

Could I ever find the thread that

binds us oh so very glued, I would 

close my eyes and force myself 

to kill us back 

in 

two.

[becomingherself]

careful now

While treading on my kingdom,

there are some lessons to be learned.

Making amends is not enough

when my farms get burnt.

My fields are open for your horses,

but ride carefully through my sympathy,

for this is delicate grass you're stepping on.

I have a bad temper with delinquency. When in doubt of the consequences,

remember these words to your choices judge:

There is always a certain dose of honesty

that doesn't cost that much...

[becomingherself]

the killer in me

Don’t stay up and wait for me

if you can’t see blood.

Tonight I’m out for hunting

and I won’t be home

until I get enough.

No surprises here,

though the truth may be rough, 

for you were once my 

prey too, and you rejoiced

at my fangs on your scruff.

So let’s not play hide and seek

if my nature has always been

so clear.

You know I’m no good,

but, my love, you are

still here.

[becomingherself]

up your pedestal

Not only I don't agree

with your words,

but I despise them. I do not need the sense of

friendship that comes with

blind indulgence.

You like to think you're

so much better 

than you really are, talk to us like you're

a thousand, a million

light years afar from our potty existence,

so pitiful, so beneath you,

so aggressive to your elegance. Sadly for you, I'm not bewitched 

by your approval, by how bad you

like me, too little or too much.

Guess you'd be surprised to

know that, in fact, I do not give

one single fuck.