secretly-the-fae

[secretly-the-fae]

There aren’t many poems that make me cry as easily as Jesus at the Gay Bar. I don’t know why it resonates with me so much, but every single time I read this poem I get teary-eyed because yes, he does love me still. This is the love the bible talks about. I don’t know where I stand religiously, but I do know that if I chose Christianity, if I decided to accept Jesus in my heart, he would accept me no matter what. Not just if I was straight.

#religion #poems that make me cry #jay hulme #the backwater sermons is a beautiful book #gay religion

[secretly-the-fae]

I don't believe in a God.

Not when you look at me like I've hung the heavens and the earths for you alone.

And when I take your hand in mine,

And you hold me in your sweet reverence,

I can't help but pray to our love.

-

Amen

B.H.L. / Secretly-the-fae

#original poem #poem #poetry #love #im single but i got emotional #feels very 'Judas Escariot and Jesus'

[secretly-the-fae]

It feels wrong-

This whole in my chest.

I'm grieving for you and hate myself for it

It's not like you're dead.

You still live and breathe;

Your existence hurts, when I remember it.

A month ago you were my friend,

I can't even look at you any more.

Happy memories turned sour in a matter of seconds.

I wish I hadn't met you,

Not if it would save me from this heartbreak

And the constant emotional anguish of mourning someone who's still alive.

-

Anthony

Secretly-the-fae/B.H.L.

#original poem #poem #poetry #vent poem #thought you finally found a decent guy? #psych! he likes little girls

[secretly-the-fae]

The night I died,

The stars were the brightest they'd ever been.

Looking overhead,

I don't think I've seen anything prettier in my life.

The night I died,

And the air was clearer than any I've ever breathed.

It smelled like the sea,

And I could almost hear the waves crashing beneath me.

The night I died,

The grass in my front yard had never felt softer.

The wind against my skin had never been kinder.

The tears on my face had never burned so awfully.

The night I died,

I had never heard a more beautiful sound

Than the chirping crickets and the howling dogs.

I had never heard a more awful sound

Than the screams that came from my mouth.

The night I died,

Life had never tasted so sweet as it did then.

Nothing had seemed as rose-colored,

Or as sugary sweet before.

But when I bit into it,

All I tasted was bitterness.

The night I died,

I never felt so alive.

I almost burnt myself to ash,

Like a modern day Icarus.

But when I fell,

It was no tragedy,

And no one would tell the tale of some sad teenage disaster.

The night I died

Was the only night I lived.

The Night I Died.

B.H.L. / Secretly-the-fae

#original poem #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #writing #tw: death #dying #i dont know #im not in a good place mentally #and this is my coping mechanism #so dont be mean please #im probably already crying

[secretly-the-fae]

I think I miss the way you smelled like maple syrup in the morning,

And tasted like old cigarettes at night.

By the dumpsters where you kissed me,

I kept us safely hidden,

From the blistering golden sunlight.

And for just a night,

It was us alone.

I didnt know you didnt smoke

Til you told me in a fight.

You called me crazy and left me alone,

You convinced yourself that you were right.

I think I tuned you out,

Because I still bought you the pack you always smelled like;

Marlboro reds, in a pack that you'd never light.

I don't eat pancakes anymore.

The syrup is too painful,

And the coffee is too dark.

And your ghost still sits across from me,

In the diner booth that you haunt.

If I think hard enough, I can hear you shouting at me,

And I can smell the smoke in the air,

And I can still taste cigarettes when I think of kissing you.

But I also smell the maple syrup, clinging to your skin like a tan.

And no matter who it was that smoked,

Maple syrup will always be, achingly, you.

- Marlboro and Maple, B.H.L. / Secretly-the-fae

#original poem #poem #poetry #poem about love #lgbtq poetry #no pronous but its gay #heartbreak #romantic poetry #poems on tumblr

[secretly-the-fae]

This isn't poetry and/or my other writing, but I don't really care. I just need to say this.

A few years back, I dated someone that really messed me up. He wasn't abusive, physical or otherwise, but by the end of that trainwreck of a relationship, I had more self-esteem issues than I knew what to do with. He wasn't shy of his reputation of having dated a lot of girls, and I didn't really care. I was desperate for validation and let myself be pulled into a relationship with someone I didn't even like. So, when he kissed me and told me I was pretty, I thought it meant that I was the one. That he would choose me and we would be happy together. It didn't matter that he would tell me how I was like his exes, or that he'd cry to me about missing them.

That relationship lasted two very shitty weeks. He dumped me behind the band hall and we haven't spoken since. I wish it hadn't affected me so much, but that was my first-ever "serious" relationship. It was big for me, and it killed me how quick it was over with.

I felt completely and utterly unlovable. I mean, if the guy who would settle for the bare minimum hated dating me that much, then that meant I was doomed to a lonely life as a spinster. I really got in my head about it, and almost entered more shitty relationships just to prove to myself that I could be loved.

That kind of mentality really stuck with me. Soon enough I gave up on anything and everything to do with love, because what was the point. My friends tried to play matchmaker, and I had one or two crushes here and there, but really I had become resigned to the fact that I would be alone.

Really, it's only recently that I've started to move past that. I mean, I'm by no means in a great place mentally, but I'm making progress. I don't hate what I see in the mirror as much any more, and I can honestly say that I love myself. Some days are hard, and it feels like I'm moving at a snail's pace. It doesn't help that I live in a very conservative area, so I'm limited to what I can explore about myself. But still, I'm making progress and that's good enough for me.

I guess the whole point of this is me saying that it's not impossible to unlearn self-hate. It seems big and daunting and you dont think it'll ever happen, and you will want to give up every fucking day. But then one day you'll look at yourself and feel something other than hatred or disgust and it'll be wonderful. Maybe it'll take a few weeks, maybe it'll take a few years. It doesn't matter; growth is relative. You don't chop down a tree because it grows slower than a flower. You give it the care it needs and you get to see it grow giant and healthy under proper care.

Sso yeah. Don't be afraid to be patient with yourself. Growth isn't easy and it never will be. But it's worth it a million times over.

#growth #self esteem issues #unhealthy relationships #self deprecating thoughts #getting better #growth is hard #but its worth it #self love #mental health #mentalwellness

[secretly-the-fae]

I looked in the mirror today,

I was shocked-

To be met with a face that is not my own;

With a smile brighter,

And eyes wider,

Than what my own should be.

Her name,

It is the same as mine.

Yet somehow,

She says it differently.

With such a love for herself;

A love I could not possess.

The people she knows,

Are not people who know me.

They will tell jokes

I do not find funny,

But question me

When I do not laugh.

They tell me what I find funny-

What I laugh at.

I force a smile,

And I laugh the rest of the day.

We go out to eat,

At a restaurant I am told I love.

I order a food I adore,

But they tell me,

I do not like it.

So they order something new for me!

Something that tastes old,

That I do not like-

But I swallow it down anyways

With a grateful smile.

I get dressed;

Clothe myself in comfort,

In style I enjoy.

Yet I am ridiculed,

Because I have abandoned

Clothes She enjoys.

I am missing something,

I am told,

As they dress me up-

Like a doll, instead of a person.

Looking in the mirror,

I can't help but wonder.

Who is she?

Why does she speak with my tongue?

Love with my heart?

See with my eyes?

Clearly we are similar.

Enough so that people think I am her;

But even still.

The glimpses I get of her life,

Of the way she exists,

Like the world

Is a promise of happiness,

It makes me think.

Could I have liked her?

I think I would.

If we had existed together,

In another life,

Where She and I were not one in the same.

Where her love,

For the simplest things,

May extend to me.

So as I gaze Upon a face,

Not mine alone,

I cannot help but love,

The girl I do not know.

-B. H. L. / secretly-the-fae

#original poem #poem #poetry #poem about growth #dissasociation

[secretly-the-fae]

I am so happy that I do not miss you.

I do not remember the way you smiled,

Or the way you laughed.

Your eye color evades me, 

And I can no longer remember what your favorite color is.

What cologne did you wear?

How did your lips feel against mine?

Questions that remain gladly unanswered.

What we had was not a love.

It was not even a like.

And so no,

I do not think of you any more.

I do not even think of you in passing.

I don’t think of what you would have said to me,

Or if you would have laughed at my joke.

You aren’t even a memory any more. 

You are the remains of unhappiness that I am glad to leave to rot.

I am so happy that I do not miss you.

And I am happy that I will not miss you again.

- B. H. L. / secretly-the-fae

#poetry #original poetry #original poem #moving on #poem

[secretly-the-fae]

Growing up bittered me

Filled me with a hatred for myself;

For the world.

I was convinced for months-

That felt like years-

That my adolescence was going to kill me

That being a child was wonder and bliss

But a teenager was the antithesis;

Horror and desolation, wrapped in a pretty pink bow.

A wolf in sheep's clothing, Waiting quietly to pounce.

That was the price of growing up;

We paid it in tears and heartbreak and sleepless nights

We received an IOU and a promise of endless debt by the time we were twenty.

The promise of a world torn to shreds and left for us to clean.

And how bitter it made me!

How it convinced me,

That everyone was out to get me,

Ready to ruin me at a second’s notice

The blade was held behind me

And I was ready to take a step back.

Somewhere along the line, I grew up again

The second time was better;

Was softer and sweeter than the first

I relearned myself, then the world

Saw with open eyes, no shade of anger to blind me.

It was not perfect-

Some nights still remain sleepless, 

some thoughts still bring tears to my eyes and a gaping hole in my heart

But slowly, I learn to learn it.

Not to like it; never to love it,

But I will not hate it again.

I learn to admit, I am not weak

The world has not ruined me, and I will not let it.

I will not lie; I still hold that bitterness in me.

Like a drug, I run back to it so often,

To remind me why I cannot ignore

Why I cannot forgive and forget.

It keeps me from going numb

From losing myself in this horrible world.

From growing up again into something worse than the first time.

Something complacent and willing to just “go along” with the world.

Because when the sapling grows to a tree,

They still both shared the same seed.

And the leaves that fall are all the same as the last.

- B. H. L. / secretly-the-fae

#growing up #growth #original poetry #poetry #poem about life #poem

[secretly-the-fae]

Darling,

How I adore you

Like the skin

Adores the knife,

Like the bone

Adores the break

And like you

Adore me, as well.

When I look at you

I do not know what it is I feel

What is this love

For something 

I so desperately hate?

Your tongue burns

Like a fire,

Dancing across my skin

Scarring me so deliciously

In ways that haunt my dreams

Making me crave

Your terrible love

I despise you,

My sweet.

So horribly.

And yet,

I cannot leave you

How does one separate

From their very being?

Your tears,

When I speak,

Are always so beautiful

I love the way you cry

You look so very vulnerable

Softened in ways

You never wish to show.

So delicious

Is our dance.

Kill me lovingly,

Dearest,

And I shall give you

The very same mercy.

#poetry #original poem #unhealthy relationships #symbolism #original poetry #writing #writers #unhealthy love #free verse

[secretly-the-fae]

I think I am in love

I think That my heart 

Has grown fond

Of this mortifying ordeal

Of being known.

Softly,

Slowly,

Was how I found this love

Learning it as we went

Loathing turned quickly

To adoration

Yet when I stopped hating you,

I have no idea.

Why did I ever dislike you?

I look at you now,

And my heart swells.

I cannot find any flaws

Worth hating.

They are all so gorgeous

In their Amazing Imperfection.

Life.

Existence in this wonderful universe

Along with you

Makes my soul aglow.

For what better life is there,

For me,

Than one I am allowed to live

Right by your side?

#poetry #poem #poem about life #poem about love #original poem #life #the mortifying ordeal of being known

[secretly-the-fae]

                 Tell me,

                 I beg

                 Tell me what you know.

                 How you know me.

                 Better than I know myself.

                 Do not stand there

                 Looking me in the eye

                 And say that you know 

                 How I work.

                 Or How I think

                  Not until you have gotten to know me

                 Not until you have stayed up

                 With My worries

                 Eating away at your consciousness

                 Filling you with guilt for living

                 Yet a fear of death

                 So that you are stuck

                 With a yearning

                 For something you cannot reach

                 That Does Not Exist

                 Not until you have had to apologize

                 For trying to keep account of the mess

                 Of my thoughts

                 Keeping worries ever present

                 And filtering away priorities.

                 Until you have had to apologize

                 For forgetting the simplest things

                 Yet remembering  the worst.

                 Not until you have lost motivation

                 To even move

                 Knowing you should clean

                 You should work

                 But you cannot

                 Not yet

                 There is no need

                 No ability

                 Not until the last moments, 

                 When you are scorned

                 For procrastination

                 And laziness.

                 Do not say you know me.

                 You do not.

                 You know what I want you to Know.

                 You know I like the color green

                 And What songs I play

                 And what foods I eat

                 And what dreams I have.

                 But you do not know

                 The worst.

                 So do not assume,

                 Not until you have known

#original poem #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #identity #writing

[secretly-the-fae]

Sometimes,

I am alone.

Lonely is synonymous with myself

Who is there to warm my bed

Or to warm my heart

With a tender embrace?

I think Aphrodite has scorned me

She picked me out of a crowd

Told me to suffer, alone

A twisted court jester, am I

Suffering for the amusement

Of a love goddess so cruel.

I see people

People never see me

I am told always

Such an amazing friend!

Whatever would we do without you?

I hope to find a love just like you!

Ironic, is it not?

The supposed pinnacle of perfect love

Struggles to find any herself.

A cruel play from the gods.

Of all the days,

It is valentine's that hurts most.

Cry with a tub of icecream!

Watch romantic movies!

Confess to your crush!

Words of advice to someone so lonesome

Do nothing to help.

I am not empty of sweets,

Or of movies.

I am empty of love

Something I doubt could be fixed

With cookies and cream

Or Rachel and Ryan

I am alone.

That is it.

I don't cry about it.

I don't beg for love.

I have accepted it

And I will wait for my time.

But until then

I will stay a friend

I will stay kind

I will stay strong

Aphrodite's scorn will not ruin me

For I am more than just a future wife

I am myself.

And as myself

And nothing but,

I am alone.

#writing #poetry #original poem #poem #lonely

[secretly-the-fae]

How do I even begin?

How can I ever describe him

In a way that can portray my emotions

In a way that does not make him just a man

In a way that paints him as himself,

And as nothing but?

I do not know which is brighter

His lovely blond locks

Or his vibrant personality.

Either way,

The sun stares at him in envy

It is always hotter when he is outside

The sun wishes so dearly to outshine him

She has not managed yet.

Looking at him

I am reminded of so many things.

A young puppy

bright and full of wonder

A lone cloud in the sky

drifting on aimlessly and without worry

A familiar song

An odd comfort

An old memory

A new experience

So many things.

And yet, somehow, adoration tops them all.

He does not see me

I do not mind.

I see the way he lights up,

Talking about a girl who I have never met

"You should meet her,"

He says

"She is a lot like you."

Somehow,

I cannot hate her.

Not when she makes him this happy.

Unrequieted,

I think the word is,

My feelings are not returned to me.

What feelings do I want, though?

This is not love.

Love is something so much deeper

Than this petty longing I have.

Asking each night, before I sleep

That I may have him as my own.

I know that is not fair to him.

But hope keeps me going.

So hope, I shall hold out.

Waiting for the day these petty feelings fade

Leaving me alone in my mind once more.

#poem about love #poetry #poem #original poem #love #one sided crush #unrequited crush #crush

[secretly-the-fae]

I find myself writing about love

As though I know her.

It is a hilarious thought,

I know.

After all,

Who would write a letter to someone

Begging their presence,

When they have never even met?

My mother tells me

You do not know love

Love is not something to learn

Or to know

It is something to feel

And enjoy pure

I do not know how, though

To feel it

Mama, tell me how!

I beg

Tell me how to feel love

How to escape my lonely heart

She looks at me sadly

Do you not love me?

She asks

Or your father?

Your sister?

Your friends?

I nod

But that is not love!

I protest

Love is between a husband and wife

between lovers on quiet nights and warm days!

Not a friend or sibling

She laughs at me,

And holds my hand gently

A friend may love you,

She tells me,

Have you never felt a warmth,

Deep in your soul

When you see your friends laughing

Because of something you said?

Your sister,

I know the way you watch with pride

Any time she comes home preening

That she has made a good grade

Or met a new friend

I am shocked

My mother smiles warmly

I see the love for the world in you,

In the way you light up

Just as the sun

When holding a newborn kitten

Or how you sob fiercely

even at the thought

of losing your oldest friend

in your elderly dog

She reminds me,

With a gentleness of someone who loves deeply

And with a tenderness only she could possess.

And for a moment,

I am left to ponder.

What is love?

Surely, there must be more than romance.

My mother has proven that well.

So how do I not know?

How was I unaware of the bliss I felt

At just seeing my friends

Do the simplest things

For my benefit?

How could I not know,

What that pride in my chest was

When my sister cheered

About making the team?

Or when my dog

Looked at me with adoring eyes?

Or I greeted new life

Into this world?

When I write about love,

I know it well.

Subconsciously,

In ways that are subtle

With no need for romanticism

Or a partner to show me.

In ways that leave me just as fulfilled,

And in ways that prove

I do not know,

But I feel so strongly

That it makes up for my ignorance.

#poetry #poem #love #poem about love #poem about life #self awareness #non romantic #platonic love #familial love

[secretly-the-fae]

Okay y'all, demon headcanon time

So we all know that vampires can't see themselves in mirrors because the backs are made of silver, a holy metal. It does wierd things to them because it is holy. It is made to go against them.

But when demons look in the mirror, they don't see nothing. They see something that oftentimes leaves them wishing to have gotten out easy like those good-for-nothing leeches on legs.

When a demon looks in the mirror, they see their deaths. The fallen angels, they get to relive their fall from grace; watching as their halo shattered and bent, turned into twisted horns, and their once soft and luscious wings became taught and leathery. They can almost feel the way the fall burnt them, leaving scars and turning perfection into damnation. For a moment they can even hear the cheering of other angels as they fell, the ones who they used to consider friends rejoicing as they fall to hell, for there are truly no other words to describe damnation.

For the once-humans, it is just as terrible. Some watch as they are sacrificed to the lord of hell themself, ritualistically slain with all of the honor and dying grace of a hog. A few watch themself get burnt alive for supposed witchcraft, tied to a post as they are scorched mercilessly. Others relive the sensation of getting punished to the electric chair, fried to death by the law. Then there are those who watch a bullet pierce their body, a slow and painful death to some and a quick and easy one to others.

That is why it's harder for demons to integrate into human society than it is for vampires. Humans are victims to vanity; you can't go anywhere without seeing a mirror or other reflective surface. It has gotten easier as time goes, less and less silver being used for mirror backing as quality is exchanged for ease of mass production. Still, any time a demon sees their reflection, they can feel the phantom pains of their last moments before eternal damnation. It is almost ingrained in them, to flinch and protect themself when they see a mirror. The pains bring a weakness with them, and any demon worth their salt (haha) knows that weakness means death.

#demons yay #tw: death #tw: burning alive #silver is holy and demons are anti-holy this is just 1+1=2 #has this been done already #because if it has #im sorry #this idea feels too smart for me #so its probably been done #leeches with legs #a.k.a. vampires #comedy GENIUS amirite #demons #vampires #headcanon time! #demons are fallen andgels AND humans #because i said so