#poetic musings

[blushingxpilgrims]

i could tell you now

or bite my tongue

until it bleeds

and hide you in between

the lines of my poetry

—i could tell you, 2024

[autumnsunshine10]

Don't call me angel of the morning

Or baby in the night

Don't call me only lonely

In fact, don't call me at all

I've run out of battery

Out of service, out of time

For wasted wasters and chubby chasers

Double decker rubberneckers

Slowing down to openly gape

Flat on my face, gravelly scrapes

In places I didn't know could break

So if you ever cared then I'll accept

All charges just to hear

A convincing tint in your voice

Saying you're not going anywhere

This time for sure for real

[the-quiet-girl-thats-invisible]

A quiet girl that's invisible.

Even you wouldn't notice me, and I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I'm a wallflower. Someone so average on the outside you wouldn't give me a second glance, let alone a single thought.

I'm the youngest of 5, and I was deemed too annoying by my older siblings to play with. So I learned to create my own worlds to play in. I lost myself in the pages of books. By imagining myself within those pages, I could pretend I didn't feel alone. As I got older, my adventure books turned to fairytales and grand romances. To be someone's soulmate. To be swept off my feet and rescued from my life. But with one sibling chronically ill, and my efforts for attention often unmet, I gave up trying to be noticed, and I started to fade from view.

Growing up, I moved frequently. Going to school after school. There was always that initial giddiness on the first day. The hope that maybe someone will notice me. That they'll actually see me. That they would understand my quietness and would choose me, and would become my friend. But I would be too eager, and I suppose my desire to fit in was too much. All the validation I sought seemed to explode out, and I was often labeled as a teachers pet, a brown noser. Just fancier words for what I already knew. I was too annoying and too much. That I should just be quiet. Be invisible. And as each school came and went. As I grew older and lonelier, the hope of being seen faded, and so did I.

I guess my hope to be chosen never quite faded. I still long for my own love story. To have a soul connection with someone and to finally feel seen. This, of course, has led me to be painfully heartbroken quite often. Yet, just as annoying as I may be, so too annoying is my hope. I sometimes wish the persistent thing to go away, and then maybe things wouldn't hurt as much. But deep down, I think my younger self keeps that flame lit. Because she knows she deserved to be loved way back then, and she knows she deserves to be loved now.

[umabokil]

I am the walking blueprint of a shattered heart. The veins in my body are the cracks in my interior, the blood spilling from the broken shards and flowing in unapologetic rivers. Ironically, the blood flow is keeping me alive. They call it circulation, apparently. But how do I explain to the world that what they’re summing up scientifically is nothing but the weight of carrying love and loss gushing and rushing to every corner of my body, imprinting itself into my being, when all I want is to detach myself from the burden? Why can’t I weep blood onto my sleeve and scrub my face from any remnants of my vulnerability? Why must my brokenness circulate within my body when my heart is as though mechanical—pumping but not feeling? Why is this the darkness before light? Why is this the evil before good? Why is this the cost of my becoming?

— walking blueprint of a shattered heart / weight of carrying love and loss / cost of becoming

[env0]

The moon is so beautiful tonight. Draped in gossamer clouds that billow er so softly in the evening breeze. Oh, how I wish I knew you were looking up to share this beautiful moment with me. Beneath the same shared sky.

[trustonlystars]

Do you ever fall in love with sunshine a little more? It’s the same as having more time to yourself. When you know you can skip something to stay back in your zone, the kind of sweetness that cancelled plans bring where you sneak out of parties with loud music and louder people. Do you ever think back on who makes the best cup of coffee for you? I still don’t know how I like my coffee, but every time my dad brings me one, it feels perfect. Do you ever see grace in these moments? Do you ever see how pretty castles your mind makes and such an honour it is for you to walk down that aisle? Do you ever listen to music play and wish to be a song someone cannot forget? Do you ever let music make that kind of home in your heart? The same kind that we find in Church hallways in the softness of hymns. Do you ever want to sit back right where you are so life could just be and you could take another sip of coffee and watch sunshine walk through shadows?

- trustonlystars | Jannie F

[notmadebyhumanhands]

You were the angel & I was forged from the flames of hell.

When I walked the world, I toppled kingdoms for a glance of your beautiful face.

[soaringwide]

Soaringwide: a new chapter

At the time of writing this, March 21 2024, 7:03 AM, I wanted to take a moment to write down where I'm currently at on my journey.

This blog is not my first one, but I wanted to start fresh in order to allow myself a space to grow into something new.

I'm just 30, which may sound like a lot to some, but is really not that much in the grand scheme of things. Throughout the years, I've been through so much, good and bad, and I've seen so many iterations of myself. I am someone who regularly goes through deep changes, because I like to reinvent myself, and also because, I think, it's what life is all about for me. To always yearn for more, and to start with yourself. Because, really, your whole world can change drastically if you just change the way you see, feel, and think it.

Soaringwide came to be because I'm learning how to fly again, after collapsing so hard I though I would never be able to. I don't think I'm there quite yet, but I've made so much progress, I have to honor that.

The thing is, I'm not proud of much but if there's one thing I am proud of, it's my resilience. Yet I'm tired of it being put to the test. I long for peace and healing, for joyful moments, love and laughter shared freely. I don't want to continuously feel like the sky is going to metaphorically fall on my face.

The other thing is that I want to be able to express all facets of myself freely. Explore what it means and share it with others, because there is limited meaning and pleasure in keeping it for yourself only.

I think I have a lot to say, a lot to share, and perhaps it can even help others to some degree, but for so long I just kept it all in, never daring to take that step out of my comfortable and lonely bubble.

So yeah, here's to the start of a new chapter.

[anxiety-banana]

Four years ago today I was having the best night of my life with my best friend. At this point I didn't know how badly he'd hurt me.

It's still sweet. I look at those pictures with love because I took them with love. It wasn't fake, we didn't lie about how much we cared, we just hurt each other anyway.

I still love those pictures. I'm still hurt by what he did. They can coexist.

[blushingxpilgrims]

look at me

i’m so poetic

(it’s pathetic)

how often i write about you

—pathetic, 2023

[brahmaninandigam]

And when the bleeding stops, and the cuts get healed, the scars become a story of Bravery. Of how they've survived the cruelty of the Swords. 

So I decided. To pierce hearts with Words.  Wounds, invisible. Healing, Impossible!!

[the-quiet-girl-thats-invisible]

It's interesting to go through my old notes and find my old writings. Bittersweet for the love notes and heart-wrenching for the goodbyes. And yet, somewhere in the midst of them, it's a nice reminder of where I was, where I am, and where I have yet to be. I think posting them helps me let those pieces go and maybe help someone else feel seen. Sorry in advance for some of the angst to follow. But it's me, and if I'm too much, go find less.

[umabokil]

I’ll paint the scenery outside your window with your favourite season and connect the stars to scribble your name in the sky. I’ll write books of poems and songs in your name and leave them in parks and bus benches for everyone to find and read. I’ll bake you the homeliest home and cook you the fanciest dinners. I’ll tuck you in with a lullaby for the heart and scoop you in with kisses to the forehead till your chest falls into a calm rhythm next to me. I’ll build you the cosiest cabin in the woods and I’d be the fire that keeps your fingertips and nose warm. I’ll love you like I have always wanted to love you, and I hope that, with time, I hope you will, too.

— I’ll find you for your sake till you become inseparable with yourself.

[env0]

He wasn't bad looking, however he wasn't pretty handsome.. He wasn't particularly tall, but to call him short felt wrong. He wasn't smart, but dumb didn't suit him. His hair wasn't quite blond, however you wouldn't quote call it brown. He wasn't exceptionally exceptional, but he wasn't boring. The world reminded him of this plain fact in every way. Every day. A simple thing. For a simple man. Who couldn't quote be bothered to be any more or less than just what he was. But to say what he was was harder than to say what he wasn't. All this to say, he isn't a hero.

[deep-in]

stay strong through your pain grow flowers from it you have helped me grow flowers out of mine so bloom beautifully dangerously loudly bloom softly however you need just bloom

Rupi Kaur

[notmadebyhumanhands]

Always in close proximity yet always so inaccessible.

As beautiful as a work of art and equally meant to be admired only from afar.

Adored and so deeply desired but never meant to be acquired.

— different ways to say ‘unrequited’