lostprincepoetry

[lostprincepoetry]

what does it mean

to fear your own identity?

to tell the world:

I am me and this is why

here and now and real

with all the confidence

of a child in a tree

that's yet to fall and be bruised.

.

but then I wake up

and suddenly my heart is lurching

at the one I said I do not feel for,

the kind I said I would never marry.

my tongue is wide and takes up

so much space--

how could I ever speak?

my cuticles bleed

and my heart rate never ceases

as I laugh and laugh

oh my god, you're so funny!

(and he thinks I'm funny too.

is that what this is? an ego stroke?)

.

am I seeking male validation

or am I distracted by deep brown eyes

and a silly little smile

and falling in a that way no one can help?

is this what falling is?

I wish I did not have to fall.

(it's been a long time I last fell,

or have I ever fallen before?)

.

embarrassment floods my skin,

a flush of heat and shame;

give me my phone back

stop, I swear he looks bad in photos

give it back, oh my god!

am I a fucking middle school girl?

giddy at a scrawny boy

(talented, sweet, funny funny funny)

who smiles at me

and looks pretty with his hair braided.

.

and suddenly I have fallen from the tree;

a child bruised many, many times

and I am no longer sure or

confident.

my whole self-image

imploded by one singular boy

and the funny feelings he gives me.

.

~the ones that make us question

lostprincepoetry

#original poem #original poetry #writing #poemsaboutlove #queer and questioning #questioning #lost prince poetry

[lostprincepoetry]

in my childhood bedroom

because I have one of those now

exiting a shower where I'm finally

barefoot

no more flip flops

no more communal living

but I've never felt less independent

.

my clock an hour forward still

since no one bothered to change it

"why would i?

it's your space

i never go in there anyway"

.

but it's not my space

it's the ghost of a sixteen year old

who never knew they'd get this far;

their brain stunted by a disease

that shut the world down.

.

living out of bags

for a just under a month

withering away in a shoebox

of what i used to be

who am i?

why am i here?

when can i go home?

.

"but you are home!

you're here! you're back!

isn't that wonderful?"

.

wonderful is the space

where i am not constantly reminded

of my ever changing mind and body

and the consequences

of growing up.

.

useless reunions with faceless masks

of shells of people made of cardboard

and scotch tape pretending i am

their favorite

when we haven't spoken in months.

comments on my nose piercing

and how long my hair has grown

"haha, thanks, it's practically

a mullet now"

but not acknowledging how

I Have Grown

how

I Am Different Now

how

I Will Not Be Treated Like A Nobody Anymore

.

this grown out shave now a mullet

that jumpscares me every time i pass

a mirror, mind reeling

of those kids who shouted

doused in red white and blue

"shut the fuck up, you stupid dyke"

and my mouth Closed.

(they said they'd rape me or shoot me first, if they were going to do it.)

(no one believed me

then or now)

.

my hair hums something like

reclaimation

and something else like a

purple bruise

you can't help but poke

maybe one day I'll get out of this town

and forget all the masks and

bags of clothes

and not living here or living there;

the limbo of it all.

but for today

I force myself to put down my scissors

and kiss my dog goodnight

hoping and praying (dreading)

that tomorrow comes sooner

———

~there's no place like home for the holidays by

lostprincepoetry

#sad poetry #original poetry #original poem #poem #poets on tumblr #poetry #lost prince poetry #holiday themes #tis the damn season #poets corner #young poets #writing #my writing #lost prince #lpp

[lostprincepoetry]

some days I kick myself

for letting you take up space in my head

space that is not yours

and you never deserved in the first place.

but i replay that audio

over and over and over within my ears

prying at the echoes and

clinging to the hope that i never again have to hear your voice.

we locked ourselves away

begging for a new life, one where we

did not have to fear you

you didn't even have the decency

to see we were afraid.

people always ask

but who am I to explain?

they'll never understand

my irrational fear of

a silver four door mercury with a black top.

who are you anymore?

dead, i always say

it's easier to explain

but it's not a lie when all you feel

is dead to me.

so i hope you rot in hell

since all you've ever given me

is dread and fear and insecurity.

and one day I'll spit on your grave

knowing you're a heartless man

deserving every ounce of chronic pain

you've ever felt.

and unfortunately my dna is 50% yours

but I claim absolutely none of you.

~fatherhood

#sad poetry #original poem #original poetry #toxicity #toxic parent #healing #writing #spilled ink #letting go

[lostprincepoetry]

I crave the touch

of those who desire me,

but I've yet to meet one who does.

I crave attention

of those who won't tire of me,

but I've yet to meet one who does.

each day I hope

of one who will admire me,

but I've still yet to meet one who does.

~2/17/21

#sad poetry #original poetry #original poem #poem #poemsaboutlove #spilled ink #writing #writers #attention

[lostprincepoetry]

bells will ring,

people sing,

I can't feel a goddamn thing.

winter spice,

slip on ice,

think of death, not once, but twice.

mail a card,

lit up yard,

yet my heart is broken, scarred.

children smile,

empty aisle,

pushing past my life's free trial.

same old song,

heart withdrawn,

maybe soon I'll just be gone.

11/28/2020

#original poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #poetry #sad poetry #christmas #holidays #writing #writer #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #seasonal depression

[lostprincepoetry]

my blood is an accelerando

speeding from my lip to my chin

pierced by harsh white now stained

to match roses

my feet are sixteenth notes

in which no metronome is to be found

tap-tap-tap-tap one-e-and-uh

can't find the beat, where is she?

is she locked in my chest?

a booming bass drum

thudding behind my body

a low rumble felt by all

tick-tock tick-tock

no, those aren't temple blocks,

just the constant reminder time is running out

the music stops

a caesura

catch my breath

but the suffering is far from over

for my life is a concert

and I've yet to finish even the first piece

~musical madness

11/17/2020

#poetry #original poetry #music #anxious #time #classical music #poem #spilled ink #writing #poets on tumblr

[lostprincepoetry]

smooth lay her skin, my hands run up and down

features round, warm, begging for my hold

wide sits her plush smile, talk of the town

eyes sparkle brown and the sunshine makes gold

laugh stops my heartbeat one second too long

voice wraps around me, a tight, clean embrace

hair flows to red from her chestnut brown song

paint hides the freckles that dazzle her face

dream is but a picture of what's yet to come

vision, does it mean as I think it means?

with her, there's no feeling of being numb

coat of a doctor and faded jeans

oregon, children, and each day anew

goddess, I pray that this vision is true

~prophetic dream

11/4/2020

#poetry #love #future #dreams #prophecy #original poetry #poem #spilled ink