ithoughtbeethovendied

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

relentless

It’s 3 on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of April, and I’m staring at the fan on my ceiling rotating at the stagnant speed of nothing. I’ll have to get that checked because idk if I’ll be able to bear the heat in this state of its in near June. I turn around and force my face into the bedsheet spilt over the eight-year-old mattress. the surface is dewy on my skin, my body’s warmth reciprocating it. I’ve been here for half an hour, and I’ll probably lay for about somewhat an hour more. It’s a feeling of regaining my tiredness because there’s not one moment I’m not. It’s a constant. I think about my future and how I don’t see it clearly. is it really even mine if I burden myself with what others expect of me. “we just want you to live a good life, be honoured by living one” they say, and I go ahead and blindly believe them because of course why would they think bad for me? they’re older and wiser, they’ve been here and they know how this feels. I think of myself as stupid doing and remind myself of unbearable knowledge day by day in the gruesome circle. and then, as if this much guilt wasn’t enough to be an atlas and have the weight of the sky on my shoulders I replace it with the thought of others in the race. the competition is what they are to me apparently. “every man to their own” Oh don’t they have a heart, its everyone’s first time being a teenager, you can’t expect great things by the hands of a sixteen year old, they’re barely trying to go through school and maybe stay alive by the end of it. and no I don’t mean it as a threat that I’ll kill myself if you pressurise me, because that isn’t bravery but a mere act of cowardness. you and I are not the only people running in this marathon there are millions and trillions better than you, but oh you shall not let that get to your head even if you know it is true, even if you know won’t make it, even if you know you’re not good enough.

so I once again face the ceiling and wipe the sweat off my cheeks. I once again get hypnotised by the transfixing spinning of the air around me. I look at the centre of it till I forget my element’s meaning. and then I break the trance and gaze at the time because it’s either me running out of it or me sprinting next to it. and yet my cadence doesn’t feel like mine anymore. it looks like a kiosk in the middle of a radio show that’s been broadcast at 3 at night, made for people who can’t sleep, people who are worried about futures that aren’t even theirs anymore.

#spoken word #original writing #scream poem #slam poetry #writing #writers #spilled ink #spoken word #writers on tumblr #angst

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

dubiety

I don’t get it.

I don’t get anything.

I don’t get why I can’t tell you that I love you even though I do so much. 

and it’s not some bullshit that you’re my friend and I don’t wanna ruin this thing because to be very honest I’m over that shit and I couldn’t care less. Maybe the fact that you’re dating my supposed friend might interject a bit, but I don’t get it why not? I’ve known you longer than her. I care for you much more. I like you more than she likes you. I care more than she ever could. I know you more than she ever would. it’s obvious that if I participate in the damn race, I would win.

but here I am sitting in the backseat of the car watching two people love each other even though one of them doesn’t deserve it.

She's a bitch for it, and even you know that this is not jealousy. Because if I would have been the slightest bit jealous, I wouldn't have waited for you this long. it’s exhausting watching her love you, try to care and show her affection. it’s impossible.

I don’t know why you don’t see it. hide behind the “we’re just friends” commitments like you haven’t thought about it being more than that. but oh all right.

I’ll let you be happy even if it makes my heart ache. 

so here we are again on a little trip down memory lane where I dated people to distract me but every time I decide to put my love somewhere else, it bursts like a wound clot not healed. and I hate it.

I hate how I try so much, almost too much to avert but everything brings me back to you. every damn time.

I don’t get it why its forbidden.

but I promise myself that it is.

and that I shouldn’t.

and now, somehow, my life has been limited to how I couldn’t, wouldn’t and shouldn’t.

I don’t get why I can’t love.

love like others do.

#spoken word #writing #scream poem #slam poetry #angst #original writing #writers #spoken word #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #the one that got away #forbidden love

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

Thoughts

The timing is immaculate.

How whenever I’m left alone with my thoughts I seem to think about you.

And the fact that I don’t even know why

It’s not like you did something great that I miss unconditionally,

Or something that I dread and won’t wish on anyone else.

It’s just the emptiness inside me that turns towards you every time.

I don’t love you anymore

Well at least after the things that you did I don’t hope I do, I don’t hate your existence because I’ve learnt that there isn’t anything to hate.

I don’t miss anything about you.

Maybe that’s just because there isn’t much to miss.

You’re the first person I never wrote anything about, I always thought that was weird but here I am doing it again…… guess I didn’t break my streak.

You act so different now, that’s what ails the curiosity or the act of it being totally and horrendously bizarre just makes me question, what happened?

What did I do?

Where did it go wrong?

Was it really anyone’s fault?

Or were we just not meant to be?

No, actually, I think we were meant to be because I don’t think “meant to be” is supposed to be forever, it doesn’t say about how long it’s supposed to last.

All I know is that it was supposed to happen, we both were supposed to be a part of each others life.

Maybe not in the long run.

I kind of predicted this was how it would end.

And I wouldn’t say it was heart shattering as it would be wrong to lie about.

I wouldn’t say it affected me in great detail either.

Atleast for me that is. I don’t know about you.

Well I hope it didn’t. If it hurts you, I didn’t mean to.

I know this may sound selfish of me but i am not going to apologize for something that we both agreed on. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t suppose to catch feelings. Neither of us were. So you don’t get to plagiarize me about it.

This is what I mean.

I don’t even care about you anymore and honestly i don’t even know what I think about you.

But somehow,

Each time

I’m left alone

On my own,

Each time

I don’t have anything to distract me from it,

Each time

There’s no one to talk to,

It’s you.

It’s you that I think of.

#writers on tumblr #spoken word #spilled ink #writers #original writing #spoken word #writing #scream poem #slam poetry #angst

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

one step forward and three steps back

Lately, I’ve been waking up with puffed eyes. My mom thinks I’m not well and I don’t blame her really,

There’s no way to explain it with no evidence 

The 6 hours I slept to be late for school have already dried my pillow. 

I don’t remember the last time someone affected me so much

Somehow when you’re in a good mood it’s awesome but whenever yours goes down it ruins mine too, and I know that I said that we’ll do everything together, but that doesn’t seem to happen since I’m the only one crying and you’re just pissed off. it’s like you turn into this asshole that I just don’t know and the thing is half the time I don’t even know what I did. you’re supposed to talk this out if it’s eating you up in there and I don’t know how to emphasise it more anymore that I’m here.

If I won’t help you out I don’t get who will and I try and try so much but you just won’t. 

This doubt clouding above me is just killing me. 

So much that I’m questioning myself now,

Asking my every move what I did wrong, hoping to let the good parts stay good parts not do something stupid that struck your nerve.

Idk how much soulmates can strangers really be because I don’t even know how much I know you.

You push me away, you question my love, am I not enough? What difference could I have made?

Will this always be like this?

Barren and stubborn.

A heart that doesn’t feel mine calling me its own.

I don’t think you even know what I like, I feel like I’m just something you thought you should have, something you need in your life.

I don’t feel anything anymore and I often question whether I made a mistake, was it really a wise choice or just a teenage instinct? Are you really what you seemed like from a distance?

I feel unsure,

And honestly?

Idk anymore.

#spoken word #writing #scream poem #slam poetry #angst #original writing #writers #spilled ink #spoken word #writers on tumblr #olivia rodrigo

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

not fair

Oh

I don’t know when I fell in love with you. I didn’t know that I was capable of loving you. I mean how many many times have you heard about the girl who fell in love with her girl best friend and not platonically? I didn’t realise it then though, I thought it was affection.

Little did I know.

And now we don’t talk. And even if we did…….

I don’t know what I would say.

This isn’t a movie in which everything works out In the end. This isn’t some story in which the girl kisses the one she loves. This isn’t a poem that would cry all night for someone to be mine.

Oh how much I loved her.

How much had I wanted to caress her face, look into her eyes and admire her smiles?

Do I text you? Is that what I should do? WHAT SHOULD I DO when I miss you every night and my pillow catches your tears? What would you do?

Would you have called me if none of these things had happened? Would you have sat beside me that night and watched me cry? Would you have gently wiped my cheek and let your hand stay there just a bit too long? Would you have closed the gap? Would you have been there?

The truth is………. I don’t know.

I don’t even know if you loved me and whether you regret it.

I tell people I don’t hate you but I don’t see the point to not to. I miss you and I don’t like this feeling.

This feeling of my stomach dropping anytime anyone mentions you. This feeling of my head spinning at the thought of you. This feeling of me dying inside. Just because I don’t know you.

What did I ever do?

Or what the fuck was it that I didn’t.

My heart still beats but its empty chambers require fresh blood to give in.

And I don’t know who to trust anymore to pump it.

#original writing #spoken word #writing #scream poem #slam poetry #angst #writers #spilled ink #spoken word #writers on tumblr

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

this side of my skin

Red 

Red is all I see

Red is all I believe

Have you ever wondered what could happen to a person if their whole life upturned?

Would you lose hope if something like that happened to you? Would you scream at the top of your lungs just because you can’t redeem it? Would you be willing to throw the rest of your life away because you don’t have a reason to live?

I didn’t.

I made them regret it.

Regret the stare in my eyes when I look into the shallowness of theirs.

This isn’t new, I’ve always had it in me. Always had the shadows lurking in the corners of my fingertips, dancing at the rhythm of my heartbeat.

They say this isn’t me, this isn’t what I was prolonged on this world for. I don’t believe them.

How could I? After all, they did to me, did they think this was not what they would get? Did they think ill suppress, hide in shame, leave them unbothered after the mess THEY made?

They call me a monster for the aftermath of my doings, completely ignoring their own. My monstrosity was influenced by your hands. I was skinned because of your attire. Im not anymore what you thought I was. I’m not going to retire my way out.

I’m not going to apologise for what I did. For that’s what they deserved.

I’m not scared anymore.

Because the blood on my fingertips has never appeared redder

#original writing #spoken word #writing #scream poem #slam poetry #writers #angst #spoken word #writers on tumblr #spilled ink

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

embraced

I don’t remember the last time someone hugged me the way you did.

It’s almost been a year now since we both talked.

I like to think that this is for the better, the connections being cut off just because we weren’t perfect for each other.

The world talks about how one lover broke the heart of another and scattered it into a million shards leaving them to heal in a way they don’t know how.

It talks about how the palm of one of them misses the feeling of a caress from the other.

It talks about how even worlds apart standing so in between people that love you, you can still feel lonely. Just because there is a part of them missing.

But somehow between all of this,

The world seems to forget about the love of friendship.

Half of the planet has never realised that someone could lose someone so important to them and not utter a just word about it. Just because hey, it’s for the better.

It seems to not acknowledge the fact that someone ripped their mind apart just because they missed long late-night talks in parking lots.

I don’t think you understand just how much I miss you.

But then again,

I’m starting to forget about how your lips stretched so wide to create dimples in your cheeks.

I’m starting to forget how you loved taking hours combing your long hair just so it sits right.

I’m starting to forget about what kind of animals you loved and what kinds you hated.

I’m starting to forget that slight pitch in your voice when you were excited about something and you just couldn’t contain it.

I’m starting to forget just how much I cared for you to let you go.

I’m starting to forget why even I let you go.

I let my dreams search your caverns every night just to find the reason.

Maybe if I hadn’t said those words, maybe if I hadn’t created an issue, maybe if I hadn’t let you leave.

There are still times when I wonder if I should send that text, asking how you have been, hope you’re doing okay, fine without me.

I’ve heard it takes time, to heal from something you despise.

I just didn’t think the healing will create so much gut-wrenching pain.

It’s been almost a year now.

And all I can think about,

Is that fucking hug.

#writers on tumblr #spoken word #spilled ink #writers #original writing #writing #spoken word #scream poem #slam poetry #angst

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

idiotic

“Ladies and gentlemen will you please stand”

AH FUCK, damn it. Everyone was there, literally everyone in the whole fucking state of Indiana who lives within the age of 15 to 18. Damn it Damn it

“With every guitar string scar on my hand”

What the fuck is with you and dramatic gestures huh? Couldn’t you have just like slipped a note in the locker or something. But noooooo No no no You marched out there with a fucking bouquet in your hand (which century are you living in) and a fucking ukulele, no it wasn’t even a guitar you dumbfuck. And you prOPOSED??? IN HIGH SCHOOL???? What the fuck were you thinking. Jesus

“I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover”

FUCKING SANG in front of everyone Cmon dude no That’s like high school crushes asking out prom 101. Did you need a pamphlet for that too. AAUUUGHHHHH

“My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue”

Did you really, like REALLY think that he’d like you back? HOW CAN YOU BE SO BIG OF AN IDIOT TITWAD AND WHATNOT Of course he doesn’t like you No one likes you And the reason they don’t is pretty fair with the shit that you pulllike TODAYYY, its not exactly likeable.

“Alls well that ends well to end up with you”

Even fucking Shakespeare couldn’t have written this big of a tragedy, You sad hamlet fanatic.

“Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover”

You don’t even deserve the somewhat broken love that you get you stupid asshole. Stop it. With the grand gestures and everything. No one cares about you.

“And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me”

And to be honest this isn’t the first time you’ve done shit like this right. I mean the awkward jokes. Like you need a fucking supervisor all the time, man. This sucks.

“And at every table, I'll save you a seat”

And like wtf are you going to do about recess tomorrow? Like, let’s take it for a second that you survive periods and everything. WHAT THE FUCK about the rECESS DUDE??? This is the end of the world. God pls kill me. Aaaghhhh

Ding dong

Now Is honestly not the time for me to be attending guests. Ughhh

Wait

“What are you doing here?”“oh um, I just thought id come by to thank you for the flowers….. that you gave me….?”

“loverrrrr”

#fluff #excerpt from a book i'll never write #female writers #flowers #spoken word #writers block #writers #writers on tumblr #writing #original writing #writers and poets #writblr #writerscommunity #spoken word #scream poem #slam poetry #spilled ink

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

No mom

This isn’t an apology for the way I am, Or an acceptance of you.

This is the never-ending rendezvous spelled out on a glance of sheet, for you to understand. That mom, I know you want the best for me and I appreciate it, really I do.but you just don’t understand the line of difference between pushing to the limit and crossing it. Im not like you mom, And to be honest- I don’t think I ever could be. We may share the same blood flowing through your veins but our hearts always will choose different paths. I have come to terms with it but you just don’t stand to. And I don’t know why.

What are you so afraid of mom? That I wont be able to do my math homework on time or that I wouldn’t be able to live without you? Whatever it is, do you really think you’ll reach the answer by trapping me?

We’re from different generations, you and I. And that gap can’t be fixed. Sometimes you don’t know what to do with me, because you just can’t understand mom. And that’s perfectly fine. But then you start to wanna understand and that’s ok too but your pushes get ugly. And you don’t understand that.

I love you with all my heart really. But sometimes….. I don’t think my heart wants to do that.

And I can’t think whether that is just sad, Or kinda freeing.

#writers on tumblr #spoken word #writers block #writers #writing #original writing #writers and poets #writblr #writerscommunity #spoken word #scream poem #slam poetry #spilled ink #angst

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

loved

You texted me last night asking if I hated you.

Well to be fair to me and you, It was a fair question. after what you did, what you did to me, it was absolute for me to hate you of course, it was easy for me to. After all you ruined no wait scratch that, scarred my life. Hate would have been a genuine reaction. People who heard the climax hate you for what you did, and they assume I do too.

But to my surprise, when I read that text, I didn’t feel anything close to hate for you. Betrayal, disappointment, thinking what my life could be if I hadn’t met you-sure.

but hate, No, no I didn’t feel that. Now presumably you’d ask me why? I should hate you, its the reaction that could be justified. But, How could I ever hate someone I once loved with all my heart. There was a time when you were the only thing that made me happy, made me feel blessed. How could I hate me being happy. After all we went through, after all that you did, trust me I tried so hard to hate you, but I couldn’t put my heart to it. I don’t love you anymore, that’s not what this is. it wouldn’t be human if I did. But I’m not going to ignore the fact that there always will be a part of me that would belong to you, there always be a fragment my soul that will have your name, there always will be a memory so happy scarred be your joyce.

So even if I wanted to….? I could never hate you.

#spoken word #scream poem #slam poetry #spoken word #spilled ink #original writing #writers block #writers #writing #women writers #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writblr #female writers #blackout poetry #poets on tumblr #visual poetry #angst #acceptance

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

unpredicted

Im not proud of it but I wouldn’t put it plainly either. I mean, Ive been told since I was a child that I can’t find love in the way id presume to find it, That it’ll always sneak up behind my back, scare me to my death then laugh at me after helping me up.

It’s a thoughtful really.

How when there were two kids. So unbelievably different in senses that couldn’t be conjured but so, so compatible.

Oh, it wasn’t the cheesy stuff where you meet under the stars of a lonely night hoping to find nothing ever against the love of your life. It was just pure coincidence, Fate's way of saying glass words or a miracle. That’s really how you’d put it. But it was destined. maybe not then, maybe not in the future, but the universe was bound to it. To something so strong, that it couldn’t possibly be ignored by it.

So there they met, two souls in an utterly disguised, coincidental class, that they happened to have together.and it wasn’t like fondness at first only. It was gradual friendship. To be joined by the hips. Always in trouble. Puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together even if different. It wasn’t a love, the kind that I’d want to press my lips against. It was the kind to be strong, to hold past, my unlikeness matching with his enthu, his virtue matching with my vision.

Oh it was bound to be, For the souls of those to meet, ‘cause even if fate could challenge- The love would never falter.

So for the person who made me see me for who I was and not for what someone wanted me to be, Who made me realise that I didn’t come to this world to play a part signified to me, but to get to know what I’d find for me. This is for you, and for all the love that we shared. Thank you. </3

#spoken word #spilled ink #spoken word #scream poem #slam poetry #original writing #writers block #writers #writing #women writers #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writblr #writers and poets #blackout poetry #visual poetry #fluff #abandoned family #excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpt from a book i'll never write

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

I hope for the blood in my veins to end with my remains

anonymous 

#spilled ink #spoken word #spoken word #poetry #slam poetry #visual poetry #micropoetry #writing #writers #writers block #original writing #writeblr community #writers on tumblr #women writers #writeblr #writerscreed

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

Miles

Maybe studying someone from a distance thinking they might be an open book closes them to afar lands.

I used to watch him from what seemed like miles away but might have just been a couple of benches across the cafeteria.

He wasn’t anything special to look at really, just another normal eleventh-grader. I don’t even know at this point why I liked looking at him. No, I didn’t see oceans in his eyes, Or golden light flowing through his hair like melting sunlight. No there wasn’t anything unique about him that struck me off my notches, Or striking in a way I would ever be beheld.
And no he had never stood up for me either. He never even tried talking to me but then again I was like shadows playing at the corners of people’s life.

I didn’t even feel like the main character in my own story.

Maybe that’s why when I stare at people they don’t seem to notice eyes peering.

Oh but him.

He knew.

He knew the orbs that would look at his cheekbones from the world’s end not to admire them but to read them, Like there might be words stretching across his shoulders till his arms. Bathing in the sun, Almost imaginary, Almost negligible, But he seemed to stand, he seemed to stand the strands of admiration in the curiosity of his being.

Maybe that was the reason he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind my mind exploring his from that distance.

The distance that remained a distance on times’ perceive. The cycle that continued from the death of a beautiful butterfly to the birth of a hideous caterpillar, Just like that, Eyes storming his hair never turned into tsunamis. Just because that tsunami never was urged.

Because distances prevent provocations of close sentences on shelved novels.

#writing #writers #original writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writersofinstagram #writers block #spilled ink #spoken word #spoken word #angst #young adult

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

her.

I might have known her since we were kids.

She isn’t my closest person but I suppose I know her more than anyone.

She isn’t beautiful in a way which will make you go “damn that’s hot”,         But she’s pretty in a way that you just won't be able to put your finger on as to why you can’t look away.

She’s peaceful in a calm chaotic way she’ll dance with you all night but she’ll also be welcome to just sit down for a cup of coffee by evening’s light.

And she’s funny,                                                                                                 Not the kind of funny that comes out as mean but certainly the kind to have your eyes blurred with tears and your cheeks hurting from stretches.

And she’s artistic,                                                                                            She’s the kind that will sit you down just to admire a canvas, she’s the kind that will watercolour your eyes just right so that you can distinguish the light from the pigment.

And she may have the best sense of fashion I have seen                        Because I wouldn’t have paired those jeans with that top but darn that looks awesome.

And she has the best taste in music,                                                              From the retro bands to your wannabe rappers and she’ll pick your favourites.

And she’s a great listener,                                                                               She’ll be there to listen to your own written heartbroken songs to the stories of what funny things Mr Jackson said in history today, she’ll listen to all the debates of whether the love of your life did mean it when they said that they liked you at 3 in the morning.

And she’s not the best at school,                                                                       But she’ll amaze you with the random information about why spiders are spiders and she’s smart in a cerebral way.

And she’s the biggest book nerd ever,                                                        Whether booktok or unfiltered classics she must have read all of them.

And she writes,                                                                                                  She writes these beautiful stories on how Earth may just be a bit too beautiful and how she just can’t wait to have the familiar feeling of knowing someone from another life.

And she’s the kind to hug you when you’re broken and say nothing for it,    She’ll take all of your broken pieces and she’ll try to shape anew a feeling meant to be.

She’s not perfect 

But

She might just be. 

#her #writers on tumblr #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writeblr #writers #writeblr community #writing #scream poem #drabble #it girl #spoken word #spilled ink #virtual journal #fluff

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

Are you a mommy’s girl or a daddy’s girl? I’m my grandpa’s girl.

I must have been ten at the time when he went away, he died, is what I mean.

I think that’s when everything went downhill.

He was my best friend.

He taught me things no one would have,

He protected me and he scolded me and he loved me.

And it's not the case that I didn’t care at the time,

I cared, I cared overmuch but,

But when a child is taught to never cry they don’t know whether it is even right to FEEL at a loss.

That’s fine.

we all learn anyway, in some way.

Unfortunately,

Someone going into high school isn’t the best victim of such an example.

How can an A-grade kid suddenly be knocked down to average and never be able to compile back? 

And all of a sudden I was twelve, in a group of friends that didn’t even like each other but I survived, I was learning. I was doing my best.

Cut to fourteen when the shift in a pubescent teenager takes place and all of a sudden all that there is are girlfriends, boyfriends, fake friends and those backstabbing assholes that just don’t even deserve a mention.

Everyone finds someone to call a best friend and everyone thinks they’re gonna be together forever through ups and downs and through all the boy problems but these friendships just never last,

These friendships sink anyways like an ice boulder making dents in it.

Fourteen is the ripe age for making boyfriends and I made one too.

I wouldn’t go too deep into it but it was not the best first relationship you would want to have and it did leave a scar on my heart but I lived.

Fifteen-year-old me now all of a sudden knew that best friends are just people and people look away,

Boyfriends don’t last and end anyway,

there’s no use in knowing thousands of people if all that you think of is those two dumb humans that stayed.

Fifteen-year-old me all of a sudden knew when it went downhill.

#drabble #writers on tumblr #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writeblr #writers #writeblr community #writing #original writing #spoken word #spoken word #spilled ink #scream poem #visualjournal #slam poetry #angst #young adult #grandpa

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

whether to hate her or love her

I was 11 when I first met her.

I Remember we were playing, me and my friends and she came up to me and said “Can I play too?” now I wasn’t the one who was gonna say no to a new friend. and a new story started. a story to never embed in the hearts.

Now we both weren’t exactly each other's closest personifications. But nonetheless, the spark grew, enough to start a fire. The kind of blazing fire that seems as if it would never burn out.

We started talking, we started to start to know each other and oh it was beautiful.

We shared everything, two peas in a pod. me being the chaos and her being the charmer. We called ourselves best friends. But there was one word we liked to add, both of us didn’t know why or whether it was wholly true, “forever”. it's a nice word if you hear it, speaks of itself as the ongoing process of no end. cut to a fragment of years after the singing daisies and the heartfelt hugs. I moved, not that far really just a couple of streets away but at the time we both made it seem as if we were going to be oceans apart. we met though, every month if possible but you can’t really change destiny and well everything has its course. 

How long can you make something yours if there’s not enough love left?

It was fine really at least it didn't end on bad terms, those fights that make you think why you ever made memories. thinking back on lost nostalgia you also wonder if it all was ever worth it.

If the love that you gave or the heart that you preserved was ever really worth it?

  not everything has shocking endings,

But not everything lasts forever as well.

Either death do you part or the destiny that comes along with it.

it didn’t end in drama or a fight, it just drifted till we didn’t even talk to each other anymore. I almost wish it ended in a fight so I didn’t have to go through the pain of losing her slowly. I miss the time we laughed and hung out, sometimes I just wanna call her up and ask how she is doing but 

I was the one who cut her off because I felt like I was being dragged down.

Everybody tells me it's better that way now, 

but I'm sorry about all the inside jokes that no one will understand or some of my best memories that happened with her. 

I feel sorry to lose my best friend, 

but the worst part is that our history was so good it didn't deserve that kind of an end.

I would love to tell you that we stayed best friends, but we won't even keep in touch,

All we had was those 2 years,

And we grew,

And we laughed,

And then

We outgrew each other.

And that’s okay. maybe it isn’t okay now. But it will be.

it has to be. we’re all temporary anyway,

We were never meant to last.🫀

#poetry #haiku #visual poetry #visualjournal #all caps poetry #spoken word #spoken word #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #excerpt from a book i'll never write #slam poetry #poetryriot #scream poem #blackout poetry #micropoetry #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers #writeblr community #original writing #drabble #angst

[ithoughtbeethovendied]

daisies 🔆

Flowers. They’ve always amazed me. Such unique beauty lying in each of them, every another much beautiful as the last. they seem peaceful to me. I sometimes wonder what if humans were that way, not unique or beautiful, but peaceful. take the ones in front of me, purple at best, blooming like all they ever had to was show themselves to make gods vulnerable. spring bloomers that’s what they’re called - tulips, all of them. I bet if you look at them long enough they seem like dancing fairies, waving to the wind. maybe they are, but we just don’t- “Hey”

I look up, and he’s staring at me, the boy with big green eyes, eyes with a bit of coffee in them, just enough to make them milky. or maybe it's the hair that has me eyeing through my lashes, it's brown, this golden brown that I can’t tell whether it's the colour of his hair that’s that way or the sun hitting him just right. I’ve seen him around, just never thought of going near him. or saying “hi”. I realise that now it's me who’s staring when he states an obvious “I’ve seen you a lot here”. Well of course he has, I'm always here, looking at the flowers. It's a big garden full of them, I think I have the right to look at least. “yeah,” that’s what I answer, yeah, that’s all. A simple word that has become so complex for me that I sometimes forget maybe it's still the same simple word for others. He waits, waits for me to say something more. But I don’t. I look back at the tulips, again crouching as I once was, not only smelling but feeling them. he’s still there, I can feel him too, feel him looking at me, at the flowers in front of me, at the way I look at the flowers in front of me. “what’s your favourite flower?” a specific question, with the simplest chain of words. Yet, I think, about all the flowers that I’ve ever seen, all the beauty of them, the different fragrances. I could say, that I like all of them equally, but that won’t be so true. In the back of my mind, there is that ONE, the one I would like to call my favourite. “daisies” I answer without glancing at him. he seems to consider my brief response, nodding his head, he seems to come to terms with it. then he crouches down in front of me, and looks at me, studying me like I'm his 5th-grade science project that his mom made for him and he’s trying to understand it and become familiar with it before he presents it to the class, claiming it as his own. “I’ve never seen you this close. May have noticed those freckles” my face warms up, and I can feel my cheeks Redding. I say nothing. I stand up and he follows like a shadow. And for the first time, I notice how much taller he is than me. “it was nice meeting you,” I say not expecting an acknowledgement back. “it was nice meeting you too,” he says back instead with a small smile. I turn and yet I still feel it, the smile. I walk back home deciding that was enough socialising for a day.  ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “I got you a daisy” look it wasn’t exactly my plan on meeting the green-eyed human again, but he Did bring a daisy for me. it's that white kind with those yellow spores in between. my favourite. “Thanks” I hold the petal, feeling the texture. “Thank you” he just smiles at me, smiles at me like I'm the only flower for him in this big field of weeds, the only flower that caught his attention. I like that. maybe I can be someone's favourite flower one day.

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