I need you not to drown me with love. All I need is assurance that you won’t forget and I won’t turn away.
There’s a name anew
my tongue does not notice alive
pronounced from the pit of my gut
held pierced between my lips.
I’m afraid for it to wake—
viable that it would destroy accords
and foretell stories I wish to be kept.
I’m afraid of the cold winds that’d brush,
the emptiness and assumptions
once the sweet pleasure has ended.
I’m afraid of the softness of my voice
at the time I’m forced to tell
the woman that makes me fonder,
I’m afraid that it will never last
once I say it rustily
I’m afraid it will never be repeated
there is no such thing as thee.
No one is going to tell me what to do after I graduate, no one will tell me where to reside. What’s worse than having a controlling grandmother who’s only will is to be reunited with his successful son in Australia? I never said I’m going to there but I have thoughts for grad school, but never with you.
I thought I’ve settled to stop hating you but this plan of yours is making me want to slit your throat. Not sorry, you can’t ruin another generation because of your selfishness.
I don’t make good poems and I can’t make prose unless I’m told to do so. I write when I want especially when something’s driving me crazy. And as I was looking over notes, I came across poems I made the past months, written on yellow papers that’re mixed with my quizzes and I was amazed. I was a completely different person and I was happy, noticing I’ve never completely written anything I’m truly glad about. I’d write about sadness and rain, and more rain, end of story. But the ones I found were a bit glad that if they could only speak, they’d thank me for thinking of those words and took time to write them down.
I have hundreds of drafts in my tumblr that are of different points, words and phrases but only for one person. It ascended to grief but I never regret anything. That someone helped me live for months from the time we met. I was able to go through pain because of that angel, and I thank her for that. I still address her sweetly because she deserves it, and she deserves something more.
She demanded to be loved, cared for and nourished intellectually but no one came to meet her needs.Those requirements seemed so simple so I tried to give it to her. I gave my time even if not reciprocated to the point I gave so much I lost time for myself. I never assumed but did expect something out of all the efforts that I’ve been giving. Even that’s the case, I was anew with the mix of culture and ease of conversations. But in the end nothing was to be seen special and looked after.
I wasn’t what she needed.
Please someone take care of Taylor Sacco for me. She’s worth it I know even I’m far from her. Make her happy and especially maker her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Love her dearly, more than the way I can never show. Don’t hurt her, I don’t want to see any clue that she’s sad.
Originally from uitwaaien
Who’s not gonna think that I’m always mad? Look at that face. That’s my normal face. I hate it.
قلت في وصفك: كان جزءا من حياتي
I referred to you as a chapter in my life
I was lying
Originally from I am written
I want to forget everything you told me. I want to wash away how uncertain you made me. How scared I was of losing you. How I lost you anyway. I don’t want to know how your hands feel or what makes you smile. I don’t want to see you in photos, familiar like a dream I had once or a book I never finished. I don’t want to speak about you in snippets or think about how I behaved. Or know that I still think about it. Or know that you’re not just a lamp or a blade of grass, indistinguishable from the rest.
Originally from XII
I just miss her so much.
"We carry on with
Water-logged spirits because
We are survivors”
-Issa Gonzalez, Daily Haiku
Click the sun to find out how you can help the Yolanda Survivors.
Originally from All Day, Everyday
When I lost her this morning
at the last train station I assume she’d be,
I feared that I’ll never be able to see her again
and perhaps, not be able to bid goodbye
to someone who made my day
just by the sight of her flesh
with her hair pulled back
and skin filled with freckles and moles,
with shoulders rising every three seconds
and that yawn that shook mountains,
with minty breath and hot tremors
of not wanting to take another step
and see souls passing her
in and out of the school yard
that made her sick—lonely
and beckoning me near,
missing me as if we’ve known each other
more than the silly contacts
we’d make as we pass each other
on the sign board of the station.
I long for the sight of your shadow again
as I face this mist anew
as Christmas comes and the wind blows west
and all I need is the smell of you
even for just a moment as we both exit the place,
and I would be left waiting for the next day
to see you again with sleepy eyes
and new drenched clothes that I wished,
'til this evening,
I wrap myself into
to tuck me to bed,
and made sure I’d sleep soundly,
present in the earth,