inklingpen

[inklingpen]

I was rarely ever seen but always noticed.

~Darkpit

[inklingpen]

Perhaps all I need to end my misery is for you to stop treating me like I’m not the one you were once intrigued by.

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

Sometimes I wonder if people ever read their own words before sending them. If those words were directed at them, how would they feel? Would it pinch at the corners of their heart or feel like a stabbing pain? Since we care for them so much, we allow their words to sink deep into the midst of our wounds.

Even if you’re someone who typically walks away from disrespect, it’s different when you’ve invested emotions in someone. When you invest emotions in someone every passing minute when you decide to leave becomes difficult until you aren't given any other choice.

It’s like a stack of books, piling one on top of the other. A few knocks, and it all comes tumbling down. You cry, hurt, numb it till there is nothing left to take part, to heal.

Emotions has always been scary. And I was never the type to win the race once I open and let them in. I have always been the person who will always feel more deeply and perhaps that is the kind of "curse" I live with. I write with heartache bleeding from my wrists, letting it flow until there’s nothing left of me. We eventually grow tired of wanting something out of nothing.

[inklingpen]

Just because you love the ocean doesn't mean you need to drown in it."

[inklingpen]

"You don't "save" people, you just love them and hope for it to seep between the holes they force to close."

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

How do I run away from my demons, when it's the kind to love me at my dark and hate me when I am around someone who was supposed to love me but failed to do so? It's the kind I can't relate but can't get rid of it at the same time.

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

The fact that her name was more familiar to me than the rhythm of my beating heart was a clear indication of who had more power over me for the longest time.

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

Are the lights they talk about at the end of every tunnel is going to be my escape or do I have to disregard myself?

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

Too tired of having to feel every now and then that I don't belong anywhere. Neither to a place or a soul. So I let it crush me into shards. For I lack the strength to hold defenses that are heavier than my sorrows.

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

You will never write enough poems for them, or diaries bearing their name, weaving tales of love, swirling your fingers in the air to create cosmos with their touch. Nor will you be able to speak poetry to someone who just doesn't read.

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

Though I am over you, my love still lives on. For the love I showed lies in the midst of the pages of countless written diaries, completed and lost. Written love can never die, and this piece is another evidence of it.

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

I believed that I had the power to burn the city alive if anyone ever dared to even have the courage to look over you, but I saw you wander around looking for everything but me and I couldn't even light a match.

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

Though I am over you, my love still lives on. For the love I showed lies in the midst of the pages of countless written diaries, completed and lost. Written love can never die, and this piece is another evidence of it.

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

If my words don't make me, then what am I? Not an actual poet by work, nor an artist with their brush strokes. If I am not my scars, then what tragedy describes me?

The screeches on the walls of the hollow nights or the leaking of the ink under my messed desk?

If not the lines on my wrists, the broken recorder on repeat, or the spilled pages on the floor, then who am I? I am not a saint nor a sinner.

Maybe a nobody with dreams, too hefty to land its spot. I am just a mere word on a page, a burden heavy on the scale. A face in the mirror, a loop on the plot. A broken star with wishes in the block.

If the scars aren't the ones to describe me.

Then what would, if you had to see me?

For, your view would be different from what I catch myself as.

Reach me to the moon, I'd say I fall into the craters of the dark. Tell me I sparkle like the star and I'll tell you how often they get overlooked.

Unless you really catch a glimpse of what lies beneath the barricades of the versions I hold. Yet, still have enough courage to compare me to the metaphors I don't deserve. Perhaps, I might believe you then.

[inklingpen]

She is a poem if you hold her right,

A delicate verse in the morning light.

Each word a whisper, each line a sigh,

A story of stars in a midnight sky.

She is a rhythm, gentle and slow,

A melody only the heart can know.

With every touch, she softly speaks,

In the quiet spaces where silence seeks.

She is a poem of love and grace,

A timeless beauty, an endless chase.

Hold her close, and you will see,

The poetry in her, eternally.

[inklingpen]

"When he stops in his tracks, he finds it excruciatingly painful to believe that someone could still admire, cherish, and love him without him trying to earn it—without striving to meet their needs, without trying to prove he's worthy of their love."

~©Darkpit

[inklingpen]

You were the kind where I highlighted lines that I loved, folded the pages to revisit. Took a snap of it and send it to others to admire the words the way I did. And, though I wanted you to be my whole title. You still are my favorite pages of the book, I cherish the most.