myfirstpoetrybook - Tumblr blog

[myfirstpoetrybook]

i miss him. i miss him like a starved man, i need him close to me, with me, but when i have him the pain is insurmountable. him, right there, and yet i cant reach out to touch. to love. when he is far away, the distance is crushing, but it is a rope to hold onto; when he is with me, there is no distance, instead there is a few inches of space to fall into, and fall i do. i want him to cross that space for me. i want him with me. i want him. i have wanted him for two long years. for two impossibly long years, i have wanted nothing but him, but the more i want the farther he goes. he steps closer when he wants, not when i want, and like a beaten dog i wait for him to need me. i wind like a snake around the delicate petals of his soul, fearing i will crush his periwinkle heart. he wants help, a friend, maybe. i want to fucking marry him.

[myfirstpoetrybook]

i feel so heavy with all this love, it lays on my shoulders like a burden i cant rid myself of. i am too small for this, for the brunt, the force, the weight of this love, and i don’t know how much longer i can carry it in my frail arms with nowhere to put it. the only place i want to place it, to plant it and keep it safe is a person who claims he is made entirely of podzol, and even if this love were requited, i fear he wouldn’t let me water the soil of his heart, but my fragile body is full of wanting for him. it seems i am cursed to carry this love until he accepts it, or until i fall, and i am already preparing myself for the cold, hard ground awaiting me.

[myfirstpoetrybook]

i should like to be immortal, but only if i have someone immortal with me, too. what good is the gift of watching the world grow if i must keep it to myself ? what good is a pride like that if there is no one to share it with ?

you wouldnt like my liver by the way im an alcoholic

"immortality sucks because all your friends die" all your friends die anyway. those we do not mourn are those who mourn us.

"immortality sucks because you forget who you are" we always forget who we are. do you remember who you were at four years of age? who you were at fourteen? "who i am" is a shadow cast on the wall.

"immortality sucks because" skill issue. skill issue. skill issue. give me your liver

[myfirstpoetrybook]

i fear no one has prepared me for the aftermath of trauma. everyone talks about how horrifying it is when it happens, but the cries when i shower fall on deaf ears. the event was horrible, but i would live it a thousand times if i didn’t have to fear falling asleep ever again

[myfirstpoetrybook]

sometimes i think i may be rotten to my core, wreaking havoc wherever i go. i make mistakes and i repent, i thrash and cry and laugh all the same amidst the fire i lit with a careless flick of the wrist. witches don’t burn, but i fear this fire ive caused will turn me to nothing but ashes, forever to be carried by the wind, smaller and smaller with each trip.

[myfirstpoetrybook]

writing is a dreadfully odd thing, i have this ability to create worlds, to tell stories which make people cry and laugh and pine and i do nothing with it. i simply do not write. and i love writing. i fear i have some bad words to say

[myfirstpoetrybook]

midnight struck and it is my birthday again, and this year i am eighteen. it didn’t get so much easier as it did calmer, but i am afraid that would not be enough for little me.

nevertheless, happy birthday, little lottie. it’s not my day, it’s yours. i’m sorry for what you went through. i love you.

[myfirstpoetrybook]

earlier today i showed my friend something i saw on here (dont ask what. i wont tell) and she went “you have a tumblr account ????” well not to you asshole. not anymore.

[myfirstpoetrybook]

i often wonder if i am selfish for wanting relationships, for making plans to live with my best friend, for forming connections like that when i am so unstable, when there are days where i cannot snap myself out of an episode and nights when i lay in my bed and heave and choke over memories of scents i havent smelled in years, and rub and scratch at my eyes over memories of scenes that havent played out again in years. do i deserve relationships when i am still hopelessly chained to the past ? it must be wrong of me, to want someone with me, knowing they will just be chained to me by the premise of having to care for me on my worst days.

[myfirstpoetrybook]

dont forget the absolutely ancient poetry book they keep specifically because of one poem

things i be having

[myfirstpoetrybook]

are my memories really mine or are they borrowed from a dream

[myfirstpoetrybook]

how can somebody claim to like you only as a friend when he looks at me like that, like im the center of all their attention when i speak to them, like im the most interesting thing theyve ever seen, and hug me like that, like im their last hope at not falling and like they have been desperately waiting just for this

[myfirstpoetrybook]

occasional posts from users

[myfirstpoetrybook]

the ghosts of my old friends, whom i almost killed in my twelve year old idiocy, follow me everywhere i go and haunt every dream i have and by god, the guilt never gets easier

[myfirstpoetrybook]

in the sea of bad memories that haunt me when i go to sleep, the one i think about strangely often is when i lost my hat and my mom was so angry with me i had bruises to the next week, and before she picked me up from gymnastics i sat in a vast, empty gymnasium and prayed to god to please make it better. i think thats where my religious trauma stems from

[myfirstpoetrybook]

some days i think im healing and others her maiden name is just on the tip of my tongue, forever unsaid, never remembered

[myfirstpoetrybook]

you’ll never find me here!!