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“This is not a premonition,
but I do have a death wish.
I dig my own grave in the morning
and bury my bones at night.
The wolves speak of my name
when the moon hides itself.
write goodbye letters
as if I am always about to leave.
Does looking forward to dying
without slitting the wrist
makes it less of a suicide?”
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“At times I catch myself staring at the distance waiting for you, and before I knew it I’ve left the door open so you don’t have to use the keys. You almost made it home. Almost.”
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“I know a sad song: the song of an old soul that is only heard by the one who sung it, for the hearts the old soul is singing to were no longer beating—like a nightingale humming in a dead forest with hopes of calling it back to life.
I know a sad song; oh I hope it wasn’t mine.”
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“Do not ask them how they became writers, it was never their fault. All it takes is a trigger, then just like wildfire, just like rainstorm—it happens naturally, and asking writers why they have written what is like seeking comprehension about the lines on their palms or the color of their eyes or the people they call home.
Perhaps they’d say, "I don’t know”, believing that there are things beyond human reasoning and understanding that no matter how much the world hold out for something more, it is the only answer they can hand over.”
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“You are made up of bones and heartbeat instead of pillars and rooftop; of skin and teardrops instead of wall and dusts. You are not some sort of place but I know wherever I go, as long as I’m with you, I can always say I’m home.”
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“If one day you wake up with earth beneath you and you hear mankind whispering wishes and you are no longer made up of running blood but of burning gas, I will find a way to be with you.
I will find a way to be the moon so I can stay beside you or to be the sky so I can be your home.”
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“Do you ever feel like you have known people long before you have met them? It is as if you crossed paths with them perhaps a lifetime ago or a light year away, and you wish to find them in every turn of page: whether as a human or a wildflower or a stardust, you pray to be with them.”
#poetry#poem#free verse#creative writing#writing#spilled ink#twc#the writers guild#the writer network#poets on tumblr#writers on tumblr#lit#alt lit
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“Read me the story about a girl who is painfully broken and painfully beautiful at the same time and how you never thought a character may step out of the book until there was I.
Write me a poem about the universe and how you always believe that there are stars in every human heart and that ours are plotted to be a constellation.
Tell me words I’ve never heard before. Take me to a world I’ve never seen before."
#poetry#poem#free verse#creative writing#writing#spilled ink#twc#the writers guild#the writer network#poets on tumblr#writers on tumblr#lit#alt lit
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“Maybe our story could have been too beautiful it would pull the ocean away from the shore that’s why the moon took us out of each other’s reach long before we wrote it.”
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“Don’t ask anyone my whereabouts for it is like searching for an x mark with the wrong map.
You can’t find me, no one can, even I.”
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“I am waiting for the day when I can finally say everything to you – the untold stories scribbled in my paper heart.
And I hope we’ll be laughing by then, wondering how after all this time we never knew we’re on the same page.”
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“I only look at myself; I should look at my home. I only look at my home; I should look at my city. I only look at my city; I should look at my country. I only look at my country; I should look at the world. I only look at the world; I should look at the universe. I only look at the universe; I should look at myself.”
- the big picture
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“My mind is a roller coaster and it would be nice to have someone who will ride along with me.”
#poetry#poem#free verse#creative writing#writing#spilled ink#twc#the writers guild#the writer network#poets on tumblr#writers on tumblr#lit#alt lit
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“We stand on both ends of the spectrum: unafraid, but not brave enough either to meet halfway, because two extremes are believed to break one another.”
#poetry#poem#free verse#creative writing#writing#spilled ink#twc#the writers guild#the writer network#poets on tumblr#writers on tumblr#lit#alt lit
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“A photograph speaks only a fraction of the truth. It knows nothing about the chaos buried beneath your superficial smile.”
#poetry#poem#free verse#creative writing#writing#spilled ink#twc#the writers guild#the writer network#poets on tumblr#writers on tumblr#lit#alt lit
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“Life has taken you away, and I’m sorry for letting it. I was busy catching the storm I created that I forgot you are becoming its aftermath.
Believe me, I want to heal the ruins, but it was hard to fix broken roads and fallen homes when I can’t even fix my own heart.
Sorry I was too dark to light you up. You’ve waited for the rain to stop, I’ve only waited for a rainbow. Sorry I was too lost to find you. You seek for a home, I only gave you a place to stay.
My love, I still wish for you upon the stars. I hope they hear me—I hope you do.”
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“Just as a moment is gone, I feel nostalgic right away. Maybe because there is no guarantee that a memory will ever become a moment once again.”
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