hypothetical-poet-writes

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

okay, idk if i’ve posted much of other peoples’ poems on here, but this one really got to me 💙💙💙

What Is Love?

The love is forgiving,

Everything that has happened.

Love is being afraid,

When the smile could turn to a frown.

Love is hunched back,

And broken chair on the floor.

Love is hand throat,

Squeezing with all might.

Love is pulling of hair,

And head bashing on wall.

Love is being ignorant,

To all cries and sobs for help.

Love is asking to forget,

Everything that's happened in past.

Love is being by side,

And help get up after everything.

Love is trying to help,

With everything in might.

Love is recalling everything,

But still be forgetful .

How can one say,

What is Love?

If they've never been loved,

Without unfortunate consequences.

Maybe it is the forgiving and kind,

Trying to find the brighter side.

Maybe its being too young,

To understand anything.

Growing with fear and pain,

But still being happy outside.

So everyone else can be content with life,

While one is still broken and healing alone.

Maybe one can't write,

What is Love?

If they've only knew giving pious love,

But only being returned is sinful love.

One still wonders what is love?

What is love?

-s.b.

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I'm sorry for dark poetry..... but it is what it is

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

not mine, but something that i found interesting/inspiring.

Richard Hugo, Essay on Poetic Theory: The Triggering Town

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

The Role of Empathy

i know you’ve forgotten

my name and my voice

the space i fill

is not really mine

it’s better to leave you

with a sense of

appreciation

for this vaguely sweet

antidote

to headache and heartache

my own dark fear

is caught in a cage

like a wild animal

that I can’t tame

and never thought

i would have to

let me let you feel

like you did something

right

my role has never been clear

my power never complete

i’ll let you close enough

to breathe the clean air

of my sorrow

and push you away before you pollute it

without thought for

innocence

or violence

or me

leave me to fight my own demons

they do not live in your head

they do not eat at your heart

and gnash their teeth

at your hopes and prayers

let me breathe my own air

my lungs are collapsing

but the air is so sweet

i’ve never been easy

to understand

and i’ve never wanted to be

when i said goodbye to past lives

and lost love

i thought my ears would stop

ringing

with voices

and wailing goodbyes

perhaps my heart was meant

to feel the darkness

like a dream catcher

let others sleep

in peace

while i scream my blood to running

lest it pool in the bed with me

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

Title: The Role of Empathy

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

My Mother

the sun is my mother

they have raised me up

from the quiet mud

to drink the honey gold

life

they rain on me

asking me to stand

taller than the pines

with face lifted

to sing hymns

with the song birds

i am alive in my mother

and my mother is the sun

the moon is my mother

they have awakened my

soul

in cold mystery

and lured me from my bed

to trace the ground

with my aching feet

and dance

to the music of shadows

before losing to sleep

i am at peace in my mother

and my mother is the moon

the earth is my mother

they have clothed me

in moss and leaves

and comforting warmth

fed me milk and fruit

urging me to build

on their bounty

build a future

build on our past

build a home

i am at home in my mother

and my mother is the earth

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

Title: My Mother

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

a little less lonely

i have no claim to your love

but i want to be loved

how do i make you understand

that my chest hurts

from loving you

and wanting to be shown

how gentle and careful

and playful

you can be

but there is a canyon between us

and sometimes i can hear you

on the other side

hear you say you love me

but you’re not HERE

and i can’t figure out how to walk

across this GODDAMN chasm

this valley is too low

the mountains have always been too high

and i have climbed up and down

up and down

up and

down

to feel like you love me

and maybe you do

i believe that you do

but that doesn’t change

that you’re not

here

you’re not the shelter

love was supposed to be

you’re not the warmth

i was promised

i was promised

that i would find family

and love

and hope

if i kept climbing

up and down

up and down

but what if all i’ve done

is worn myself out

worn out the soles of my feet

and the soul of my heartbeat

worn myself down to a holy cloth

holy from the journey

and full of holes

from tear drops that felt like acid

and fell like stones

building the wall between

love

and me

ever higher

it’s...

it’s hard to not feel familiar with love

love is a member of my family tree

or at least i want it to be

it should be easy for me

it should be easy

to love and be loved

why isn’t this easy?

why isn’t love simple?

it feels so simple

to care so much for someone

for many someones

to let your love seep out into the sky

of their lives

and paint constellations

to remind them that you love them

fucking adore them

would paint the sky

to make them less lonely

love

this should be easy

but i can’t figure out how

to feel like you see me

or my skies

and i have no

goddamn fucking clue

what you’ve been yelling

from the other side of this canyon

but if i knew

would it make a difference?

would my skies suddenly be full

of new constellations

and stars

that you’ve been painting for me

hoping that i would understand

the messages

written in your stars

my new stars

i want to know

i need to know how

to draw myself across this canyon

figure out how to make it to you

so that i can show you

how love feels to me

what love looks like

from me

so that i can feel

loved

and a little less lonely

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

Title: a little less lonely

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

ink

my eyes burn

from crying too much

and every time i see my wrists

i am reminded

that i chose to layer them with ink

rather than scars

chose to feel the living pain

of a needle

over the dull and deadly

sweet pain

of a knife

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

Title: ink

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

fuck. i don’t have the energy to post any of my poems, but i have enough thoughts rattling around in my head to write poem after poem.

i’ll post them all eventually.

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

Plaster of Paris

Do you not understand

That I am not made

Of steel and iron,

Of brick walls?

Why is my truth

More a lie

To you?

Often

I am only made

Of plaster of paris,

So afraid of

Bumping into corners,

That I lie in bed

And fill my cracks

With sorrow.

You say you want honesty,

But I think

You want normality.

You told me

To speak my truth

But have always taught me

To suffer

In silence.

My head is heavy

And my eyes are heavy

And my legs are heavy

And my body

Settles so easily

Into the gentle

And sweet comfort

Of my bed,

While a storm brews in my bones

And lightning cracks

Of loneliness

Light the skies.

Why do I feel like

I am lying

When I tell you

the truth?

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

Plaster of Paris

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

To Swim

Listen to the growing sound

Of my heart,

Each beat it pounds.

Can you tell with every breath,

That my thoughts

Feel so unkempt?

And my soul is caught in tides

Of an ocean

On the rise.

My feet barely brush the sand,

Just enough

To make me stand.

Dark fins rise and fall around.

And I think

I hear the sound.

Of hungry predators at bay,

And it seems

They’re here to stay.

Can you hear my voice? It cries

Out to figures,

Passersby.

Noise of lives we wish to save,

Howling wind

And crashing waves.

Silence seems the bigger sound

When your feet

Can’t touch the ground.

And The Ocean sweetly says,

“Let me hold you.

Just give in.”

But I hear the question now:

Will you swim?

Or will you drown?

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

To Swim

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

loneliness

my heart has found a complacent beat

in step with loneliness

an ache that eats away

at the marrow in my bones

sucking out the little nests

of love i’ve built there

loneliness

is one hell of a companion

it offers to kiss the parts of your body

that yearn to be touched

until they ache

holds you tightly and wraps you in

arms that remind you of others

embraces you

when no one else does

holds your hand

through every heartbreak

carves itself lovingly into your eyes

kisses your lips tenderly

in the place of love

my chest has broken and repaired itself

around my loneliness

leaving little space for my heart to swell

and beat

beyond the embrace

my eyes fill with salt

from the earth and the sea

and even my tears

fall one at a time.

[hypothetical-poet-writes]

lonliness