words4ties

[words4ties]

Hi, I wrote a little something about the end of the school year, I’m graduating in a few weeks and nostalgia’s a feeling that’s been taking over.

-A gut feeling-

Lately, I’ve been feeling weird, I always listen to the same song, go to the same place, see the same people, and drown in the same thoughts. Over and over again. I couldn’t be able to explain it, really, it’s odd, and I’ve stopped playing the poet, I’ve only been talking. So much. I guess, it’s normal, but a trip to the unknown, I’m scared, but I’m there. Really, even when I write, I feel I say the same thing. Honestly, I’m just fearful of the future ahead, the words I will say, the answers I will get. I’m out of inspiration, I’m out of words, maybe I’m finally happy, and it feels odd, again. I’m excited, I’m laughing, I haven’t cried in so long. I’ve lost god, and I’ve lost money, but I kept my regrets and I built something, a bit weak but the creator is me. My philosophy has changed, the people around haven’t. Maybe I did, so much that I missed it. I’m glad to be here, talking to you, although you won’t answer my texts. I’m yearning, but I’m still getting what I’ve been needing.

My grandmother died two years ago, and the only thing I thought about was how lucky she was to die at the best time of the year, where nostalgia awakes and makes us taste, like a bitter fruit, every little thing that created us. I’m not tired, I’m just scared, but it’s okay. I can’t wait to see them, laugh with them, overthink with her, and talk about him. My thoughts left my coffin, I transformed, and it scared me, but I won’t give it up. My peace is at change, it slept in the metamorphosis of my soul. So I’ll keep the routine, until i write a new one.

[words4ties]

Shyhrete

Grandma, I will remember you, I promise. You left in spring, a month of may. And believe me, what a month to paint your life, what a season to recall your love and passion. Grandma, I remember your hugs as I look at the tears on the grieving face of my mother. She talks about you, you know ? She never misses an occasion to tell me all the things you taught her. All the time you spent loving her. Truly, she has regrets, and she's mad. "I should've spent more time with her" she repeated daily. But grandma, although they were short and rare, the moments we spent together, were as colorfulas hyacinths. I remember how close you were to your village, sometimes we laugh with mom when we talk about your chickens when they ran away and we all we all ran to catch them. I also remember when you showed me your hair, you always wore that scarf, and I was surprised at how red your hair was. I was as red as poppies fearing the arrival of winter. Grandma, I miss you so much. I see you in mom's face, melancholia dances in the garden when she looks down as lillies of the valley. I remember when I found that mom kept your scarf. It still smelled like you, I think it didn't, I just wished it did to experience it again. Oh, grandma I wish you were here. Once, you asked me where I wanted to be when I grow up, I said where the winds leads me. I was young and unhappy. I'm not young anymore, I remember your calls on my birthdays, you always struggled with the camera and we laughed about it. It's so hard grandma, mom is lonely, and she needs you and I feel I'm not enough to fulfill ger wish to hug you again. But she dreams of you, and the light on her face as she tells this silly dream wher you both play together takes me back to this month of may when I stopped to look at a blooming paradise. Grandma, I will remember your life, how you brought colors to my childhood, taught me how to love nature. Grandma, I will always see you a the only one who understood my mother. And I promise you, I will cherish your daughter until the end. Everybody dies, so I will enjoy every season of the year with her. Grandma, please be happy in the garden of your life, your blooming paradise. Your family is in this world and they never forget to recall your name, Shyhrete.

[words4ties]

(little thing I wrote during a tough night)

You know, I know, we know our words wouldn’t flow as well without this liquor. Take my hand, ignore the rhymes and letters take significance as a prayer to a god full of doubt. What is my faith made of ? Fear or love, I doubt. By my thoughts I exist, and by our love we create a song, shared with others like that one folk song. we get it, love isn’t enough and I don’t believe in it. Break this prison and free my words, I don’t know who you are and how many you are but I believe therefore I am. Let me drink a shot full of dreams and ambitions. I write these words as I lose control but don’t you think my hypocrisy is far worse than your jealousy ? Ignore those questions, I wasn’t getting answers anyway. Let’s light a cigarette let’s fire our blood who cares god is not but you are. I take this as an insult you know ? The God within me isn’t leaving but some may try to make it go. Damn I broke my cigarette. Yes, they mistook me for a monster I am not, I may become but now I’m different and they ruined my truth but you rebuilt it. I don’t know you or how many you are but you are and I believe ,no ,I do not doubt. I need to stop writing my guts won’t stop me. As a child full of anger and sadness I lost meaning of anything ! Don’t you think it’s funny I smoke and then I pray. I drink and then I lay and cry. I was frustrated, mad to ignore who pushed me to this version of myself ! But it was me, no one else but me and my arms aiming at the innocence I used to have. No I doubt, God, I doubt but will it make me, me ? I bet you’re sick of my questions. My father told me nothing. And I miss it. The nothingness of everything. The existence of me is everything but a sentence so I remain happy. I’m throwing the bottle, I promise, but remember my words before they disappear.

[words4ties]

To my youth

it is my last day So I dream of the bay Where I might end up Until my years blow up.

For this is the truth So I hold on to my youth Until it kisses my hand And says “be at peace with the end.“

But I want them back To the day of my first backpack, The breakfast I had with mom When everything was so calm.

But I accept it Time leads so be it. I keep memories Feelings and stories.

To the mystery of love, And a tie between a dove With the choices of me For the magnificent aging tree.

Oh to be 17 again, To discover my pen, And dance with words To the tune of the songbirds.

01/14/24 happy birthday to me.

[words4ties]

Sleeping among the trees

I lie on the grass under the tree Leaves grow as they’re free. The breeze is like a mother Putting me to sleep, deeper.

My mouth now is dry So mother gives me water, It’s cold, I ask her why I know, she will answer

Later, so I wait for her She says the sky Is sad by nature, So she cries, she’s shy

Near the tree is a river I run fast to feel her I realize my body enlightens So I look at the rock that brightens.

Now I look back at the sky Wailing she sang “Thy Heart won’t burn or break If you follow the path of the crake.”

So fly with it, forget symbolism or the spirituality of one’s mind. Give a break to the water of nature, take yourself to an upper state of consciousness. Do not forget I listen and I care, as a mother who never minds to bear a heart full of fears and tears.

D.B

[words4ties]

[words4ties]

Personal work

[words4ties]

[words4ties]

The killer’s wife 2

She still watches the heart, she wishes she had the rest of it, she craves for her own. The killer is still creating, but she begins and abominates his methods. She knows, she cares, but reality slaps her marbled face—don’t you dare feel better than him,he performs and earns you desire and yearn.—she realizes thoughts won’t feel blood, so she sticks to watching. The killer’s wife became a collector of cries.

[words4ties]

The killer’s wife wishes

To be a creator of kisses.

She watches his art,

Scornfully, she snatched a heart.

The killer’s wife wanted it,

But now she watches it,

–The heart of a daughter

Stolen by the eyes of a sinner.

[words4ties]

Wrote this poem with a reference to a Plath 💕

[words4ties]

[words4ties]