How to: Be poetry.

What makes you poetry? Let me know in the comments section below. Enjoy!


Hold a paw, and wake up to the woof or the meow of a furry cushion.
Travel, to the closest grocery store open past midnight and buy that candy you used to love as a kid.
Feel.
Let your chapped lips, which has been a Chandler (Straight, but seemed to be otherwise), light up into a crescent moon more often than you used to.
Cry into the lap of your pillow, don’t deprive your cheeks of the season of this rain.
Pick the scab on the wound you got as a hopeless romantic, and fall in love before it heals.
Realize that you have rhyme and reason in this universe.
Find the fire of your soul and let it burn your regrets as it crackles a song into your veins.
Show kindness as a first language in your degree of life. Water a plant and feed a duck for you never know what they’ll do to you in a parallel universe.
Be you.


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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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Hearts

“O heart, be patient” – Qur’an

My heart has been jumping around,
Quite a lot since,
I became old enough to feel it.
It beats faster,
with every sheep that I count,
one sheep,
two sheep,
and three.
Maybe it just loves to dream,
And since I’ve grown old enough,
And since the things I’ve seen,
It has become restless,
For it wants butterflies,
and flowers,
fire and gushing winds,
Empty cliffs and ferocious waves.
It wants roses,
and tequila shots,
and that one girl I just can’t walk up to.
It wants to travel to places,
that even cameras haven’t seen
places where there’s no chaos,
And everything is at peace.
It doesn’t know what’s enough,
for it still isn’t old enough,
but it’s old enough to want everything anyway.
It wants giggles,
and tears that don’t sting,
and lies for surprise parties,
instead of a casual fling.
It wants unrequited love,
adventures and crazy shit.
It wants to eat french,
and kiss Italian,
Hold tiny paws of dogs,
and look into the small eyes of cats.
It wants to live,
and not just exist.
What it does not want is to be
Naive in this world.
It wants everything good,
and everything bad.
But most of all,
it wants to be able to smile,
and let it reach the eyes.
That is all.


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