dyed-petals

[dyed-petals]

there are times, i shout, what right have you to ruin my life. but with these words i remember, ive ruined someones life before. this must be my penance.

alas, he has since rebuilt. i ought to as well.

#me and my stupid morals #that arent even enough to make me a good person

[dyed-petals]

i seem to always get living and dying mixed up. they’re somehow so different for all but myself.

i go out and dance, and you ask why i want to die.

i stay in and rest, and you ask why i dont want to live.

if dying is feeling the rain on my face, the burning of the sun on my skin, the softness of dirt beneath my feet, the fast beating of my heart. then maybe i do want to die

#my parents dont really understand chronic illness #they want me to never take a single risk and always stay in and rest #but then also tell me its my fault im weak for never getting out an excercising #🎵 leave me to die / leave me to live 🎵—rojohbi #its all the same i know i need to use up my life to live #so do you #i dont care if i need to use more than you i will still live

[dyed-petals]

i think what i resent you for the most is making me discover that not all things do i forgive easily

[dyed-petals]

you could throw “if we could be reborn” into any song or poem and it gets me every time.

i think we should have been together despite the fact that theres no hope for us this time. i think our separation isnt fate i think its a failing of the universe. i will die unfinished because i dont accept a version of myself that isnt with you. its hopeless but i cant help to have hope anyways because its you. i dont wish to be with you for my sake but the sake of the universe because its the actualization of the both of us to live together in better circumstances. im jealous of a me that isnt real and has nothing to their name except a chance to be with you like we should have because i don’t have that chance. lacking that chance has a certain sadness greater than death. i know our ending is not apart and because of that neither of us are granted an ending this time because we are apart and will be apart.

its just so. aaaaaa

its a line thats used so often and thrown in to so many things without much pretense but man. kills me. it never gets stale every time i see it i go feral

#post mentioned in the tags of my previous poem #as i continue oversharing to no one

[dyed-petals]

i had a dream my parents gave me up when i was young. i came home from school one day and they told me they didnt want me anymore.

but that isnt what the dream was about. i knew that already.

it was a dream about being wanted.

my older cousin had a room for me, a whole country away, with exposed auburn wood and a big bed. big canvasses, with tubs of paint. a soft carpet. billboards for photos of memories i would make. set up for me like the aquarium for a long waited fish of an excited child.

que parecidas from the lips of relatives and strangers alike. it means ‘how seeming’. or ‘how belonging.’ they were commenting on how we look alike. we do. i could almost let myself forget i wasnt always here.

my cousins children became my little sisters. i did ballet with mis hermanitas down the hallways of our home. they dont know theres someone who called me hermanita too - i could almost let myself forget that, too.

my old friends called me sometimes, but less and less, as i started forgetting english. maybe as i forgot the words for friend and mom and sister i’d forget them too. maybe i could let myself remember only amigo y mamá y hermana. only the ones that wanted me.

but not when you called me. i could feel the dream realize - i didnt know you yet when i left - you can’t be here. large oilspilled hands replaced your face with someone else. someone who made sense in a timeline where i am wanted. you don’t make sense here. but you wiped off all the other faces. it was always you. breaking through. reaching out to me.

i couldn’t forget. not you. i wished i could. i clung to this dream where i was wanted. i didnt want to remember. you hugged me as it begun to rain. the murals i painted on my walls washed away drop my drop. until downpours claimed my dance trophies and tutus. my pictures of made-up friends. the walls dripped bare until through the haze of rain it was my real life again.

but you still hugged me.

it was a dream about being wanted. it still was.

#the words in spanish feel so cringe to me rn but i think im just being self conscious #real dream i had btw #it was An Experience it was really vivid and i woke up crying #it was after visiting said cousin and her daughters #my dad took a picture of the two of us and the whole trip was showing everyone every time someone told me i looked like her #i miss them already :( i didnt get to see my little cousins very long and i know the next time i will they wont be near as little #like ik that when my family goes there its like a 3 week long party but still its so nice there #i wasnt built for a nuclear family man i want to live with extended family #anyways i thought of this again bc i saw something like ‘would you still love me if we never met’ #and i was also kind of thinking about soulmates and how i feel like my ex was my soulmate even though it cant work between us #and i feel like thats what a soulmate is to me #someone that im in love with in every universe #and i love the person im closest too now very much but its never felt like theyre someone i couldnt have not met #even though i know i can be happy with them and have already found out i couldnt be happy with my ex #but then #theyre the one that showed up in this dream #a dream about if i never met them #and they still loved me. #blargh anyways #and Thats why i made this blog bc both people in question do follow me #and i Already wrote a post abt soulmates that lowkey was subtweeting the two of them #and Both people in question liked it dhjdsh #wait let me reblog it here

[dyed-petals]

this ones not a poem. lol. unless you read it as one i guess, im not a cop.

in middle school, i had an anonymous diary on a google site that people in my school could read.

it… felt better, somehow, to hope that something could be read. to daydream of some stranger that could understand me.

people did, too - they never knew it was me, and i never told them. they were just a confirmation of the imaginary, i think.

the site got deleted years ago when i graduated. but i think of it, sometimes, when i address my diary. ive only every kept things private since then.

i fear i am a bad person, and that this fear will make it so. and it felt like if i was showing anyone my humanity it was wrong. bad people aren’t supposed to have humanity. if someone read my prose they would feel pity for me, and i would just use their pity to hurt them. so it went in my ‘evil poetry’ diary. my diary won’t pity me. i can abuse it all i like by my existence.

so i suppose this is an evil poetry tumblr now. beware, dear reader, now that you are an imaginary person, who may pity me. i feel as if im taking something i am not owed by even imagining someone may pity me. yet, it almost brings some comfort.

but, alas, i am behind the bars of anonymity. i won’t bite if you dont stick your fingers in my cage. do with my words what you will. i hope they bring you something good. i hope if my fears take over and convince me they are inoculated with malice that they lie, or that at the very least i believe them to.

#tl;dr: welcome to my dumping grounds of things i dont want my friends to see but paradoxically wish to be seen

[dyed-petals]

there are spike traps round my tower,

ensnaring those below.

no matter how the dangers lour,

there’s always more in tow.

the witches hunts and stern decrees,

i tire to run from.

i barely hear their earnest pleas,

its through the gore they come.

maybe theyre right, as i cant find

a reason left for me.

if giving up could be to try

something put so simply.

i hammer down each spike and spine

and bury them in twelves.

they come to visit, i to greet them, it was fine,

til they remember why they sharpened them themselves.

#woah broke out the rhymezone with this one

[dyed-petals]

i should have kissed you, on that day,

after our first beers not from our parents’ cups,

as you held my face in the grass,

and i looked up at you, and almost did.

it wouldn’t have ended well.

i would have hurt you, and then cried,

and pulled you deeper under.

you would have left me, and it would have hurt,

and it would not have been your fault.

i should have kissed you, on that day.

when you could still escape.

#when we were both naive enough you would have closed the gate

[dyed-petals]

sometimes i think my mother wants me to be an alcoholic so that she can have someone to relate to.

and, sometimes, i want to follow suit.

somewhere in me is a fear of myself treating a daughter just the same.

and the pain is almost worth the solace that the me in my fear could be not to blame.

#i started my last poem with ‘i think’. fuck.

[dyed-petals]

i think that heaven has no gate.

but the fence is low, and unguarded.

there is no angel to bet on you,

absolve you of your choice.

only the promise you make,

when you step over,

or roll under,

or duck through.

i think that heaven has no gate,

but nonethesless i will be damned to walk the fence,

not in hopeless search,

but hopeful.