#Poems

[metamorphesque]

"Sister, it might be...", Eghishe Charenc (translated by metamorphesque)

[dreams-of-mutiny]

Black forests inhabit her; midnight, moonlight, dreams.

[letsbeapoemtogether]

“Have you ever noticed when you’re tired, your fingers don’t grip things as tightly as they should? That things slip through them more often than you wish? I feel as though I am those fingers and life is slipping through me.”

— Kelsey Danielle, from “Life And Other Things.”

[soulmaking]

William Wordsworth, from "The Waterfall and the Eglantine"

[dreamer-but-realist]

[my-lost-love]

I dream of being loved. I dream of love that big that even my heart can't handle it, But Im worried. Im worried that this feeling isn't meant for me. My heart is always open for everybody, Like an ugly, scary shop open 24/7. I will always show love to everyone, Even to random people I met on the street. My destiny is to be a lover, not a loved one. It will be easier for me, If I come to terms with the fact I will walk through life alone. Not everyone deserves to be loved and maybe, Im one of this people. ~ER.

[threewordusername]

piercing through the darkness,

the morning sun smiles.

it caresses my face

and my limbs,

like a parent adoring

their newborn child.

i feel rejuvenated, almost reborn:

the inner turmoil which

consumed me

has taken its toll

and finally departed;

now, is it possible to start anew?

"the break of dawn."

d.b.a

no matter what challenges you may face in life, you never have to do so alone. you have the strength needed to persevere on your own, but pay heed to the people that care about you.

[sad-stucky-shipper-107]

There is a Boy

There is a boy, he is the sun.

Warm. Nurturing. Radiant. He’s  hemorrhaging light from every inch of his body. Flowers bloom where he walks. He has become a necessity, bleeding warmth in your soul. He is going to ruin you for all the other boys and it’s going to kill you when he goes.

There is a boy. He is a wildfire. 

Destructive. Annihilating. Obliterating. Burning down empires, leaving swaths of destruction in his wake. Dangerous. Playful. His kisses are like him merciless and purifying. Putting him out is going to leave burn marks on your heart and you’ll be left picking yourself up from the ashes.

There is a boy. He is a nebula. 

He is radiation. . Cleansing. Poisonous. Pure.  He is pink. And green and blue and every other color in existence. He is creation itself. An act of power. A show of unfathomable strength. Killing him would be like killing a god, leaving you bereft. Cursed to walk the earth alone forever.

There is a boy. He is a supernova

Dangerous. Beautiful. Volatile. Bright. He is a star on the verge of collapse and when he dies he’s going to take everything with him. And you’ll be standing there, at the edge of the raging inferno he is waiting to be consumed, inch by inch. He’ll drag you both into an eternal black hole of misery.

There is boy. And then there’s you.

A binary star system. Forever orbiting each other. A snake eating it’s own tail. Infinite. Unchanging. A law of the universe. And you won’t leave  because you love him too much and separating from him would be separating salt from the ocean. You entered this void together and that’s how you’ll leave. 

There is a boy and you love him and that's a death sentence, you know that.

But you're not going to stop because you know, loving him will be the only thing you ever want to do.

[arseholism]

I live for the moment those perfect lips curl into that perfect smile..

My heart skips a beat.. time stands still.. my world stops spinning..

I’m transfixed, you’re like a work of art, a masterpiece painted by angels in heavenly light..

Every minute detail etched into my memory, replayed over and over again..

The sound of your voice.. like an heavenly orchestra in a world filled with noise..

The laughter, brightens up my world like a thousand burning suns..

The sparkle in your eyes, like an aurora lit up by millions of dancing stars..

You are the very definition of beauty, the epitome of perfection..

The stars can crash into earth, the moon can disappear, the sun can burn out into oblivion..

I’m oblivious to the world, to life, my darling, when you are around!

[metamorphesque]

"Love One Another", Vardan Hakobyan (translated by metamorphesque)

[matthew-pasquarello]

I don't cave in but there's avalanches of skull dust in the mountainous corners of the spider's favorite library

[the-garden-of-electric-light]

Stargazer. Walk forward in the Moon's quiet steps. Outline my stare with your own watchful eye and be warned, it will leave you blind-- my glare-- my glowing and ominous stare.

[ikarust]

i talk about tearing flesh from an arm with my teeth and you stare at me in horror like you haven't tasted blood before. i talk about being crushed like a small animal on a fast lane and you ask me how it's humanly possible of me to cling to the stone of the sidewalk the way i do. my mother could skin her hands at the sink and it would still not rid her from the truth that is that she has fed me her body and that she is convict to the manslaughter of her child.

quick question: how does one write about their mother without mentioning their mother? mine is a fortune teller. she tells me in the dead of the night while i am on the kitchen floor with the boning knife in one hand and and a towel in the other that i will never be loved right. that i will never find real love. that i will always suffer if i look for it.

mother knows best.

she tells me she destroyed herself for me and that i am selfish and cruel for not destroying myself for her. she begs me to be beautiful. she begs me to be the daughter she wanted to have. my friend tells me on the swing on a beautiful springtime evening that i am selfish and cruel for devouring every little piece of every damn thing that has ever tasted like love to me. and when i go home in the evening, my mother looks at me like she did the night she told me she wishes she'd killed me when i was a child. i tell everyone i am starving. my mother tells me she told me so.

i stare at the red in the ball of spit i hawked onto the bathroom floor. i retouch the scars on my thighs. i hack away at my hair with the big crafting scissors. i pray to god that i will wake up tomorrow beautiful and loveable. i wake up the same way. my mother tells me to never come back when i step out to leave for work. i tell her i am trying my best but nothing is working. she tells me she told me so. she tells me she's glad to see me in pain because i deserve it.

maybe i do deserve it.

i visit a clothing store and step into the fitting room just to see the way i am reflected back and forth in the front-and-back mirrors. i look and i see a morbid, mangled ruin the greatest what-could-have-been of all time. and by that i mean, i see a million possibilities in one. all the girls i could have been. and at the very center, where the image gets so small it's blurry and barely visible maybe i am beautiful. maybe i am loveable. maybe i find real love and maybe i don't suffer for it.

maybe i am the daughter my mother wanted.

[letsbeapoemtogether]

"In a world full of chaos, let me be your constant. I will hold your hand, dry your tears, and when life gets tough, I will peel you oranges."

Abhilasha