#writeaways

[muskaanayesha]

I am the eldest daughter, which is to say that I am a sponge that absorbs all the trauma of the household. Life is spilt milk and I am a kitchen cloth burnt at the edges. I am falling apart at the corners, threads coming away, rips and ripples like I am torn and trembling in an ocean of nothingness. I am the eldest daughter, which is to say that I emphasize with everyone. The love of my life marries someone else, and I find myself hoping that he loves her the same. My brother wishes death upon me and I toss and turn in my sleep over the tears I saw in his eyes. Life is an accidental fire and I am water. I attempt to stop a tragedy I did not start, to go blindly into a catastrophe that I cannot halt. I am the eldest daughter, which is to say that I am silent in my needs. My father asks me what I'd like to eat and I say that I am not hungry. I will chew on my guilt and swallow my pride before I even think of asking for anything. I buy myself a sweet and nothing tastes as bitter as it. Life is a metaphor for debt and I am drowning in the desire to be as insignificant as possible. I demand nothing and nothing demands me.

[stardust-musing]

My professor said, “you don’t truly love someone until they’ve hurt you and you still think of them as the greatest person you’ve ever met. Love is a violent act.”

[circadeacademia]

Icarus, I know how it felt

I too, was a sunflower once

a summer song, a bard in motion.

I too, longed to be kissed by poems

to be fallen apart, crumbled against the palms like golden dust….

I too, inked moth’s madness onto my skin

chained my fate with ember sparks.

melted wax running down my shoulders

like sweet release of an angel's sin,

my ablaze skin

death's breath against my chin

but the fire that never really burnt out

was fuelled by the flames of my heart.

had the dead dreaming of the fireflies

ripped open my ribcage;

had the song of ocean turned my world upside down

had this bizarre triumph condemned me

to you for my heaven and inferno;

had my twisted fate, been a second too slow

I would've plummeted a supernova from the sky….

ruins of my hubris rained like burnt crystals

warped out of shape and time

was it my destiny to drown?

half ashes, half ocean in my lungs?

was it laugh of a madman?

echoing as I danced my way down?

one kiss. heaven’s venomous lips.

fallen. from one blue to the other.

to steal moment's golden bliss.

was it love? or damnation of a poet?

I know how it felt.

to long the eternity once for myself.

— circadeacademia

[expominds]

another thing i dislike

‘when you paw at him, begging for more’ PAW? EXCUSE ME? am i a dog?

pls stop using this word i hate it sm. it has the same feeling it gives you like the word “moist”

[allmothsdied]

It was always

Be a good girl

Be a perfect girl

Be a daddy's girl

Be a mommy's girl

Be whatever they want

Be everything they want

Maybe then

they'll love you a little

Maybe then

You'll be good enough

No, never

And you tried harder

You starved yourself

You destroyed yourself

Your skin Your body

Inside out

How to ruin a girl

How to ruin a woman

So desperate to be loved

So desperate to be enough

Touch starved and lonely

Then you're little slut

Daddy issues

Mommy issues

Everything's wrong with her

Being good girl

Being a bad girl

Being whatever they want

Being everything they want

Fucking around

With older men

For illusion of intimacy

For illusion of care

For sweet little lies

Never loved never enough

[flowerswedontsee]

Another unsent letter

Dont know why i still do this and why am i even trying.

How many letters ill never send,how many poems and how many songs.

Its been almost 10 years since we've met and 8 years since you left.

I have changed,

I have grown

And i have healed.

But its 22.50, im already 25 and i am writting this..to you.

Sometimes i think about if i ever even loved you. Mostly when i think about if you ever even loved me.

Maybe in your own fucked up way.

And oh god i did love you.

In my own fucked up way.

See maybe we're not so different.

Two narcissists together.

We were doomed from the beggining.

I guess we're both so different now. Makes me wonder if we have anything in common and what would we even talk about.

I would talk about my job and you'd talk about video games and your ex girlfriends.

But its one thing im sure of.

If we'd met now,we wouldn't even look at eachother, let alone like eachother.

But there was a time where you and i were the same. I tried my very best to morph into your other half and i was okay with being only a half.

But i was made for far bigger things and you were made to ruin things ,so that's why im here and you're there.

Thats why 10 years later i still write letters,poems and songs that you'll never hear.

Because having you near would be the death of me and I don't know how to live without a little bit of you. Even if its just in my thoughts.

I think- I know ill see you again. And speak to you and even love you. Just not in this lifetime.

Guess it was a right person, wrong lifetime kind of thing.

[raisemerryhell]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝓸

For writing: melindamblack.com

[takucraig07]

I am mine before i belong to anyone else. And may i stand reminded every time i want to set myself on fire to light the way for other people. I’m of service, but not in ways that scream self-hate.

[winteranddeath]

It wasn't our fault that home wasn't a safe space for us while we were growing up. It wasn't our fault that all we knew of home was so much pain, violence, and destruction.

No wonder we discovered a sense of belonging and comfort in each other; we found home in each other.

[whispersofthepurplevalley]

Sometimes, all I do is sit on a rock, and wait for the sun to come to my corner of the sky and then slowly disappear. I place myself under the vast sky to remember how small I am and the puzzles I try to solve. I forget what I desperately chase to remember the promises I made to my soul.

-Sabina Yesmin

[thelesthatusesherwords]

I should really hate you for the amount of pain you caused me. But I refuse to hold onto anything that keeps me tied to you. Even the smallest amount of hate will keep me exactly where you want me, in a grieving state. But I no longer grieve your absence. If anything, I’m disappointed that you were not who I perceived. But I’m more disappointed that you turned out to be just like everyone else—temporary.

[muskaanayesha]

Watching the eldest daughter take on the second mother role in a family (cannot interfere, it's a canon event)

[yjrambo]

Dear rapist,

I look for your obituary.

Scanning the names, not really hoping I’ll see yours.

Just curious.

Curious if you’re dead,

like you left my soul that day.

But even that will do nothing for me.

It will never rid my bones of absolute

filth you left inside of my body.

You left bruises on my skin,

but there are permanent fingerprints

On everything you touched.

If only I could scrub my ribcage clean,

dust around the corners of my throat,

until there’s no evidence of you here.

As if it never happened.

Your face is my nightmare.

Except I’m not sleeping.

It’s a never ending reel in my mind.

I’m pumping gas on a Friday afternoon in the sun,

but slowly I wander back in time.

I’m being held down by a man I don’t know,

on a bed that doesn’t smell like home.

Praying for help.

I see his face,

I hear him say don’t worry.

“Click”

Gas tank is full and I’m back to reality.

Not before I scan everyone around me,

to make sure no one resembles you.

I’m safe.

I want just one day that I am not reminded of it.

Of you.

Maybe that’s what you wanted.

To always be remembered,

no matter the cost.

I hope one day I can forget

Your name,

Your face,

Your voice.

I hope one day I physically can never remember you.

That my brain just erases you entirely.

I never knew your name,

Never knew your face in a crowd,

And never knew the horror of your voice

echoing off the walls of my skull.

But for now,

I just look for your obituary.

//.

[circadeacademia]

You're just another pretty looking thing

You're just another pretty looking thing under this mellow sky. I don't know your name, but you look familiar — like a soft wound on my otherwise calloused epidermis.

like wrinkled bed sheet

like one side burnt toast

like broken nail

you're another gentle anomaly blended in my white-glove monotony.

does that make sense?

if i say, cliché looks good on you?

does it mean a thing?

if i say, you are so poet core, so doomed to life, that you deserve your eulogy in hieroglyphs?

i want you to die.

so the poet's ballad shall rise, and their angelic choir would hum in the rhythm of your still beating heart….

an imperfect crimson fist pretender.

rest easy, mon coeur!

and you leave before the curtain hides your footsteps….. my locked jaw cannot say your name, you're just another pretty looking thing wandering around this pathetic murmuration.

birds, bees, butterflies — you don't “b”elong

bats getting under your skin; your floating legs; your shimmery eyes saw all the darkness beyond your grave.

what if i tell you i'm so blind i let my gut follow you through the sunlight?

i never saw your face, i never heard your name but trust when i say,

you are just as impossible as home.

you are in my instinct that i smell everyday

but it's all in my head.

you're just another nightmare that longed to dream, a pretty looking thing is what they say.

yes, you are.

yes, you are.

yes, you are.

you are.

you are.

you are.

you.

you.

you.

— circadeacademia

[7dolors]

the mouth of roadkill

sometimes poetry is pulling two random and unrelated symbols and making a poor attempt at connecting them in the same piece because that’s what feels right! click 4 alt txt

[eottokhaji]

حينَ تصلُكَ رسالتِي أخيرًا، أخشى أن يكونَ الأوانُ قد فات بالفعل. عندما تُدرك ما أعني، وتُحلُّ ألغازي التي حاولتُ حمايتها بضراوة. أردتُ ألّا أكونَ وحدي، بهذه البساطةِ تمسّكتُ بك.

مجددًا

مجددًا

مجددًا

أردتُ ألا أكونَ وحدي.

أظنُني بسذاجةٍ آمنتُ أنّ وجودَ شخصٍ آخرَ حولي سيكفي لدفعِ الوحدةِ بعيدًا، أنّ صوتًا ما ليخترق الصمت، عينانٍ أُخريانِ لتريا. ماذا ترىٰ حينَ تقعُ عيناكَ عليّ؟ أتُراكَ تراني؟ أم تمرُّ نظراتُكَ عليّ مرور الكرام، فقَط لأنني هُنا؟

ككوبِ قهوتِك، كوسادتِك، كدفترِك رفيق أفكارك، أنا فقَط هُنا كأيِّ شيءٍ آخر، كانَت صفحاتي المبعثرةُ بكلِّ مكانٍ دعوةً لكَ لتقرأ، لتعلم، لتقترب أكثَر. لكِنّكَ لا يُمكنُكَ إغراءُ زاهِدٍ أو مُعرِض، كنتُ أجلسُ هنا بعواصِفي وتعقيداتي، بحبكاتي وأحداثي وأحلامي وكلّ ما أكون، وأنت هُناك—غير راغِب بالقراءةِ أو المعرفة. وأنتَ هُنا معي بعوالِمي، بأفكاري.

كانت الوحدةُ تمتلكُني أكثَر لوجودِك، لتباعُدِك، للأُنسِ الذي أذقتنِيه ثم لفظتَني ككلمةٍ منسيّةٍ لا تذكرُني بعدَ أن ينتهي حديثُك.

أظنُّني أصبحتُ أهدأ، أكثَر عُمقًا وبُعدًا، أُلملمُ صفحاتي برِفق، يغلّفُني الصمتُ كأرضٍ بعدَ حربٍ أو مقبرة، أحوي دمارًا هائلًا، الكثير من الظلام، والكثير من الموت.

لا أحَد هُنا ليذكُرني أو ينشدَ أحزانَهُ لغيابي. كنتُ وحيدًا حتى في النسيان، في الغياب، في الرحيل.

مجدد��ا

مجددًا

يبدو لي أنّ الوحدةً أحيانًا هي كلُّ ما سأعرفهُ حقيقةً فحَسب.

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