callingthefourgiants-blog

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

This has been us since day one.

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

Poetry Blog Train 2017

Every new year calls for a new blog train. Blog trains can really help people find your blog if they’re interested in specific types of blogs by checking out the notes of all the people who liked or reblogged the post. This blog train is great for you to like and reblog if you do any of the following: - Consider yourself a poetry or writing blog - Post a lot of your own poetry - Reblog a lot of poetry Pretty straight forward, eh? So let’s support each other and start passing this on!

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

I think you forgot something!

< You left a plethora of items scattered across my floor. Do you not want them anymore? Every time I see you now, you’re anxious to the core, pacing back and forth. The room abreast with lavish decor. Pages that you tore, memories we’d store.

But you’re one to forget, that, or omit them from your mind. I was one step behind in a race I didn’t know I was running, miles from the finish line. But I did so in record time. Now we’re both in deep decline, and need rewinds. Or dreams divine. The universe would be so kind.

I’ll continue to wait. I’m not running late, or at any pace. Maybe there is a chance at fate, but I can’t relate, I can’t replace, all the shapes that made up the beauty that fills the space in my mind, in front of my face. I’ve seen the brightest whites and dullest greys, and they’ve all made waves, each laced with a peak so distinct and neat, and a base, but in this case, no one escapes

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

You were a reason to write,

Now I’m scared of pens, pencils, old friends, problems, physical and mental. These bodies aren’t rentals.

I used to write a novel a day, right before the idea would fade away. The text was black and paper, white, but now I only see grey. Its okay.

The ink and graphite used to tell the truth. Re-reading them now, the words are loose. Confused. Many overused, much like our effort, but we still lose.

I’m scared to find my notebook. Plot twists, and twisted crooks. I’m always deceived by how things look.

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

Chains fall to the floor now. I wasn’t the one who broke your vows. I worked my way in only to be forced out.

Now I’ll be content knowing I don’t consent to ever letting you demean everything I represent. But nothing can replace the time spent on a shade of grey, when I was brainwashed thinking it was vibrant.

My apologies, solemnly. Pause and see that what connects us is the toxicity of who we are. The distance between us is comfortably far. We no longer have to spar with words and memories in the front seat of your car.

I’m through the stages of grief, the sixth one is relief. No more secrets to keep. No more allowing you to make me feel weak. I retreat with ease because now I see my efforts; obsolete. Your stance and message are concrete. If there’s a future, no longer can we meet. May we divide these tides in peace. We are released. I now feel as I can progress in hopes to one day be complete.

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

“What is a queen without her king?” I don’t know, but let’s ask Cleopatra, Nefertiti, Hatshepsut, Sammuramat, Victoria, Elizabeth, Amina, Tzu-hsi and the countless other kingless queens who turned mere kingdoms into the greatest of Empires.

Nikita Gill (via meanwhilepoetry)

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

i hear sum dudes dont like cellulite on women.. that’s wild.. u childish if that apply 2 u.. u a child, brah.. u a baby.. imma burp u.. oop.. got ur nose.. 

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

What is more Irish, eating potatoes or not eating potatoes?

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

Valid point

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

Always getting judged lol

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

Lmao. Every damn time

[callingthefourgiants-blog]

I think about you. But I don’t say it anymore.

Marguerite Duras, Hiroshima mon amour (via thegoodvybe)