#twc poetry

[creatingnikki]

nobody can live this life unscathed. by the time you are in your late 20s, not only have you been through some trauma and are damaged in multiple ways, you've probably lost the light in your eyes and have forgot how to dream. or maybe it's different for you (I hope that is the case). but what I am trying to say is that your issues, your wounds, your sadness would have not scared me away. I am not afraid of broken people, dented people. I think that's inevitable when you're living this life. what I am afraid of is people who are delusional, people who are evasive, and people who are manipulative. that's what I'm afraid of. all my brokenness? I never expected you to fix it. if I'm being honest, I think that's one of my favourite things to do — to work on myself. to heal, to understand, to elevate. so why would I put that on you? did I, however, want you around supporting me? hearing me out? understanding me? of course. so much. and I wanted to do the same for you. because I understand — nobody can go through this life unscathed. I would buy you coffee and you would buy me books and we'd pick flowers together and understand each others triggers and pacifiers. we'd hold hands and laugh and cry and record embarrassingly funny videos of being silly and talking nonsense. we'd soothe each other, we'd make each other smile. don't you see? it was always this simple. why did you have to go ahead and complicate it, then? do you really think any one can go through this life unscathed?

[astriloquus1]

There was a time when I was desperate to be in love. Now I'm desperate to be out of love.

I forgot to ask to BE loved.

I can't keep trying for someone that doesn't want me.

Don't like you anymore. I love you, I'm damned with it. What matters is that you don't.

It's okay that its over

I've learnt that I can love. That I can feel so strongly, overwhelmingly, obsessively. I know how not to do it now.

You've taught me to never trust You've shown me how much it can hurt.

And I'm worth it. More than you are.

I'll never love anyone like I loved him. No one's ever gonna love him like I did.

[as-nowilove]

have i found you without words

or lost you in their courage

not to move, from

forward silk cells weave cocoons

for us to burst, proof you can flourish

growing inside her body

floating toward your undertaking

finally,

like eager deity heralds arriving

to meet me hills surrounding, with the news

of his surviving, his building castle

and my free will to turn around, besides

i search every way much more

desperately through the forest for

my initial motivation, did my love

serve any purpose, and he knows

when to emerge and mistake

me unsure

as so faithful to time, crime occurs

lurking for promissory exchange

heed this silence in our sitting,

how we wanted to be

alone more than anything, but then there

in those precious moments we said nothing,

in dreams you stop me

between more formative scenes

to ask what can be done before the wind

carries me above as i, even before signs

creep toward god, carried by angels

who ignited some care in me

that you could not touch (though i am

fair to misjudge)

and now that i am not true,

what can you do to

place me in charge of your courage,

how can you ask me to bleed

and the crying unheard of, without

witnessing or shedding

independently i, would lie for you

deeply, though

i do not claim responsibility

for your nature or its currents, much less

intrepidity; later

hurried bluebirds gather

listening carefully to learn how we

exchange pictures without sound: diamonds

cursed now formed under

bones we cover

both our mouths i cannot be sure,

but maybe i saw her,

maybe she came after

your soaring heard for miles

down to earth i could have sworn

i just

missed the lady though the ground

does not mistake me,

in summary

you

transverse the sky and i

outpace you fondly, he

blinks deeply between realizations of mistakes

she, knows what is coming, and she waits.

the

universe between what i want

and what you deserve

is shrinking

the future is none of your concern

[sweetsweetperil]

If you cannot escape it,

As it will always be a part of you,

What do you do

When the bruises heal

But the pain lingers and continues to bloom?

[almaaspoetry]

• The Art Of Letting Go •

Letting go is a subtle art, one that requires the patience of an artist and the resilience of a mountain. It's never easy to release the hold on someone who captured your heart with a smile, a touch, a whispered word. The connection, once vibrant and life-affirming, now feels like a weight, dragging you into the depths of sorrow.

It's in the quiet moments, when the world is still and your mind is loud, that the pain sharpens. You replay memories like an old film, each scene filled with what once was and what might have been. Their laughter echoes in your mind, their scent lingers in the air, the mental picture of their smile haunts you and every place you revisit seems like a torture. The heart, fragile ,breaks under the strain, splintering into pieces that feel impossible to mend.

But letting go is also an act of courage. It means choosing to see beyond the hurt, to recognize that your worth isn't diminished by their absence. It's finding the strength to wake up each day and breathe, even when it feels like the air has been stolen from your lungs. It's accepting that love, in its truest form, sometimes means setting someone free, even if it means facing the darkness alone.

The process is not predictable. Some days, the wounds will feel fresh, the pain as raw as the moment they walked away. Other days, you'll catch a glimpse of a new dawn, a hint of hope that maybe, just maybe, the future holds promise. Each step forward is a proof to your strength, a quiet victory over the ache that tries to keep you bound.

In the end, the art of letting go is about rediscovering yourself. It's about finding joy in your own company, celebrating your own achievements, and nurturing the dreams that were set aside. And as time weaves its healing thread through your heart, you'll find that the pieces, though changed, come together once more, creating a mosaic of beauty.

[heartofmuse]

The sound of your voice is the undoing of my soul, the surrendering of my all. The crystalline clarity that is your voice is the sun as it moves over a flower-filled field in spring. I hear the chime of bells in your laughter, and it calls me from afar to pray. I recognize the sound that calls me home, I turn, I search, and I find the one my heart belongs to. 

e.v.e.

[she-wears-glasses]

I’ve always been afraid, because

the moment someone gets

close, and

looks deeply in my eyes they’ll see all of my

demons

swirling around in my eyes.

I don’t want to dim the light in

someone else’s eyes.

They don’t know

what they’re getting involved in.

[env0writes]

Cicada Sentences Vol. 2, 7.9.24 “Lunch Break"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

Call me up out of the blue (bedsheets) And exhale me with hello’s into the sky Dressed and impressed where sky and land meets Tear up the scene and a slice of pizza (and sigh)

Send me into your space, before any embrace How the fire holds the wood How the humidity endears sweat to your face Must that sweet moment, tender as it should

Glimmer like golden starlight on the blank canvas Hurried am I called to order (lunch) Is this sun-cancered-burnt flush or blush come to pass Reaching towards a bite–towards her

Speak to me and I will smile (brimming ear to ear enraptured) Against the blue sky, your sunrise sight, worth every while

[goneahead]

I know now how the pines felt, in those heady first few days, when flowers bloomed for the first time. I understand how their resin dark hearts cracked and they spread their arms willingly to the cold forgetfulness of snow. You are four states and nine hundred miles away, and oh, how I know what the pines felt, when the fickle butterflies abandoned them, forever… ~~~~~ weird fact: butterflies are much older than flowering plants

[forestgirlpoems]

you have all this sadness inside of you and you don't know where to put it

you try to bottle it in your tears then run away from them in dreams

but sleep evades you until the small hours of the night

you're afraid of tomorrow afraid of carrying the pain for yet another day

so you try to talk to your friends eat dinner and laugh and forget about the demons in the shadows

you try to spend time alone and listen to your heart be kind and not pick yourself apart

but no matter how hard you try

it's a never drying well and even though you attempt to brush it off and scatter it in the corners around you

in the end

you still have all this sadness inside of you and nowhere to put it

[creatingnikki]

another year is ending and I want you to know that it is okay if you:

have not healed from the things that happened/did not happen from six months ago. just because the year is ending it does not mean your grief is too.

don't have any "fun" NYE plans to ring in the new year. this life is yours to live across days and months and years, and you can celebrate days other than the ones heavily marketed and shoved down your throat to shroud you in severe FOMO.

have no resolutions or goals for 2024 laid out in elaborate lists or shared on social media or with your friends. you are braving through this life trying to do your best every day and hold the fort and so of course you know, deep down you know what is needed from you for you going forward and of course you are going to work in that direction. good luck love.

have not become a "better" version of yourself by any of the tangible or conventional measures. that kind of bettering is mostly to serve others, not yourself.

are not happy with yourself/your life as it is now. you're a work-in-progress, remember? and if you're progressing in a direction you do not like, then it's time to change the blueprints and the strategy.

take time off social media around this time to protect your mental health and whatever little joy you have managed to keep.

don't want to spend too much time reflecting on how this past year went and doing various forms of 2023-wrapped. again, it's your life. you can also revisit this year in memories and pictures and feelings whenever you'd like. it's not like you don't still visit 2012, 2017, and 2022, right?

feel disconnected from your friends, family, lover. I know this is "ideally" a time to be celebrated with your loved ones. but life is not ideal, is it? it's just life. and if right now you are not feeling the love, the joy, or just don't have the headspace or social energy to engage , that's alright.

are finding comfort in simpler things like a TV show from the 90s or that book you first read at sixteen or that slice of strawberry cake or a random post like this you come across.

don't feel hopeful, encouraged, or excited for 2024. given everything that's happened in the last couple of years, on the macro and micro level, it's only natural for you to feel weary as well as wary. when the good things happen, when the healing happens, when things begin working in your favour over time, you will automatically feel all those things. it's okay if until then you choose to be neutral.

[astriloquus1]

I was sitting in that broken balcony

Watching a little bird

This little bird, with a loud orange beak and bright green feathers

There it was on the saddest trees, that shed all its leaves 

Standing crooked and bare among the other lush tall trees

And right on a scanty small branch at the very top

Sat my little birdie, on the lookout.

Looking for something, restless and alone

The way his neck went all around

Whenever he heard any sort of a sound

He waited a while and started singing, 

It wasn't pretty bad, though I couldn't judge by birdie standards

Other birds flew around, some perched for awhile

And flew away after awhile

My little bird ruffled his fluffy green coat

Brought up his wings showing off his beauty

A sight to see, though I wasn’t the one he sought to impress.

Looked here and there, hoping to find his mate

But now how much longer would he wait?

Now I was watching myself,

In that little bird.

He was nothing wrong

But had to wait too long

We were a lot more the same

Not knowing when to let go

We waited, and waited

And waited,

Nothing.

I was about to get up

This was starting to hurt

And then showed up this crow,

There were a lot more around

Together, in their nests

This one, came up to my birdie

Sat down on a lower branch and watched

My guy didn't care at first

Then he turned around

They were nothing alike

Big and small, dark and bright

But they were alone.

I watched

They stared.

A lot went through

A lot I saw

A lot I won't say

And then they flew away

Each their own way

Opposite to the other

And all I could think was

Maybe we werent so different

This little bird and I

Only he knew,

When to walk away

While I was still here

Sitting in that broken balcony

Cause somewhere, in a dream I dare not say

I see them fly away to gather and build their nest.

[as-nowilove]

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

i’ve studied every window

since you left

you could be anywhere and i wouldn’t know

unless i check, and

where you were is a pulse toward

where i am now, stumbled footing between

holes in the ground without the

steadying predictability

of your lyrical honesty

how, no ring surrounds you go

controvert, without boundaries

and i bet you were found, by someone in the desert

murmuring nonsense,

glowing as static: plutonian

tapestry of quiet synonyms

for love, for magic,

And elected not to come back,

little sings my new practice

since you do not renounce

my title, it’ll be a century before

anyone finds out

how we were speaking to each other and still

never will they know our infinities, the

summary drives you crazy i know

darling, i know, i haven’t said

a thing, but you still tell them about me,

and i

in the dark am lingering with your

descriptions hidden between gazes

handed out to empty faces should you

find your own image would you

make it straight home, and could we work

between two zones

of contact as power,

how we cower when we speak together,

you reading my imitation your

shirt stained by the after hours, the

games we played to soothe our shadows

no, i will not answer only to outgrow

how i feel within seconds, and

that’s why i love you, i am

never your lesson but always our moment

so, will the next ride to wherever you

hide accept an elegy as payment, as

every time i try not being afraid

i am with you, again on the pavement, and

nothing if not consequence would say this but

i did not tell anyone for this reason,

for

just you will know my answer: and

after you return, will the hunters flee running

you are all that must save me, or should i seek

another peace outside your eyes i

cannot speak with that in mind i

should die before you never come back

and i will, though please remove

this fact as you choose

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[sweetsweetperil]

This winter of my life,

Cold and dry ice

Windows fog,

And tears have dried

Yet they stain my cheeks,

Forever immortalized

[wordsandmorewords]

Waltz

The waltz of a leaf As it falls from the tree Light breeze its partner in dance

Twirls and lifts Pirouettes and pauses Until exhausted, until it rests

[heartofmuse]

Your words enchant the soul like an endless song, a promise of paradise, madness and fire, a whirlwind of emotion in the soul that opens up the sky.

e.v.e.