Stay.

Just read it till the end, please! ❤


Hey.
Goodbyes can be such a pain in the ass.
I’m not ready for it.
I cannot believe that
Your intoxicating eyes
Won’t be my morning sun anymore.
Your heavy breath
Won’t to be the first thing
You share with me anymore.
We won’t enjoy long walks,
And windy drives,
Crazy fights and funny sights anymore.

I’m not ready for it.
I cannot let go of you.
Memories won’t suffice.
I remember the time we first met.
You hugged me, and kinda danced too.
The first day we spent together,
Ice cream and chill,
Our favourite thing.
The first time we got wet
As it rained,
And you taught me how much fun it could be.
I’m drunk all the time,
You make me sober.

I am not ready for it.
I need you.
I need to hold your hands
As if they were a part of me.
I need you to brighten my days,
And lonely dark nights.
Eating won’t be fun anymore,
Without you around to steal my food.
Who will be my alarm clock,
The only one I never want to snooze?

I am not ready for it.
I’m drunk all the time,
You make me sober.
You’re not just a pet
Your family.
Don’t die on me.


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A new shade.

Is it just me who’s blind,
Or did the world go blind too?
I don’t know where,
or how to look for the answer,
without my eyes.

The wind can speak,
And the leaves can gossip.
The sun can giggle,
And the clouds can cry.
How has this remained
a secret for so long?
Every breath I take
Now has a papery taste,
Dry and evident.
Every word I speak,
Now sounds like an echo,
That fills the room
With its existence.
Every giggle that I hear,
Tickles my ear,
And makes me feel the joy
That it is made of.
How have I never been
So alive before?
I’ve tripped on the stairs,
That I had jumped over
A thousand times before,
Did it move?
The walls feel a bit too close,
And colors a bit too far.
Darkness has a strange color.
It reminds me of the night,
But also the day.
But mostly, it reminds me of the sky
Infinite.
Darkness is a void,
The other senses can only try to fill.
How is it that we’ve never
seen this shade before?

Is it just me who’s blind,
Or did the world go blind too?
I don’t know where,
or how to look for the answer,
without my eyes.


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Tsunami

I’m as messed up as this poem. This just might not make sense.

Home.
It’s a strange place
You never know where you’ll feel it.
Two arms and music inside a chest
Or four walls and family dinners
Or spin the bottle and hopeless friends
Or maybe just a city.
My mind is a crazy mess
My heart does not rhyme anymore
Everyone has a story
I’m living a story that
I just can’t put into words.
Nostalgia is a dirty liar.
But it’s my happy place.
You see,
When I write about love,
Words flow nonstop.
When I write about pain,
I don’t try to rhyme, it just fucking happens.
But when I write about home,
My poetry is a lost cause.
There’s a tsunami in my head.
A tsunami of words that don’t match,
And there’s no way to put them together.
I’ve been trying and trying to write
About home
About my time there
About my time here
About what I’ve felt in between
But words of no purpose pop into my head
And although they can be made
Into something beautiful
Like everything can
I’m just not the one to do it.
But I so badly want to.
I want to frame sentences,
And beautiful verses,
Phrases that make sense,
Something.
But here I am,
Going on and on
Not having a clue about what I’m writing.
I’m so sorry.
I just miss home.


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A pack of color pencils.

“Humans are fragile creatures made up of broken hearts and broken promises.” – Unknown

The water at the end of the dessert. That is what a promise is made of. It’s not real.

  1. Young Rue thought that Santa would send a present this year too. She had been a good girl. She had been nice to every one, and had done all her work. Every year she waited for a box wrapped in red paper with a small paper that read “As promised.” She had a deal with Santa. She had promised to be a good girl, and in return he had promised to bring her some of her favorite chocolates and new toys. She ran out of her room as soon as she woke up, but found no presents. Had she not been a good girl, or was Santa biased against orphans?
  2. Rue learned about how words could be carved into promises as she grew older. But she believed in people anyway. When he promised to be there for her every time she shattered into pieces, she smiled. She knew he would. But when everything around her crumbled, her life was a mess like the mascara flowing down her cheek, and she was drowning log in the high tide, he vanished like the sun on a winter day. Another empty promise, another broken heart, another normal day.
  3. With time, her words lost their meaning. She stopped believing, and forgot to keep her promises. She handed out assurances and promises like a pack of color pencils that would make your life colorful. But only while it lasted. And then she failed to do what she said, show what she meant, and be what she wanted. The colors ran out, and the pack was empty. A hole in her heart was yearning for someone to remind her what promises really are. Yearning for someone to make her believe.
  4. On a summer morning, she found the person looking at her through a dirty mirror. Brown eyes and dark hair with a new pack of color pencils in her hand.

Empty promises will break you. But you’ll always have at least one person who can love you. Be your own pack of color pencils. Look for the sword.

“She wasn’t waiting for a knight. She was waiting for a sword.” – Atticus


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The fallen stars.

The fallen stars.

“Have you seen a fallen star anywhere?” – Neil Gaiman

Star gazing, and
Neck kissing
Stormy nights, and
Wild mornings
You.
You were my sun
and star,
my road-side fun
and half-burnt cigars.
My warmth
that left me burnt
And my beautiful scars.
We were everything you,
and I weren’t.

How did the sun burn out?
How did we turn out
to be the fire
that would end us both?
Did it
end us both?
Or is it just me
with blistered skin
and feelings akin?
How did the stars fall down?

A lost love.
A bleeding scar.
A devastated me.
Gazing at the stars.


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