soakedmatches

[soakedmatches]

I am not one to be admired or reveired

There is dirt under my fingernails churned with

Blood and grime, cracking with the aridness of sanded wastelands

But you pick up every grain

Inspecting it under microscope, finding each flaw

Instead, saying that you will take me in all that I am

#poems #poetry #original poetry

[soakedmatches]

The fifth floor of a staircase

boots are dangling down

thighs squeezed passed the railing

face etched upon a frown

no words can be spoken

the echos far too clear

will pull back the curtains

a countanence revealed

skull kissing the brick walls

face stretched up towards the sun

like a flower licking warmth

ov'ries look toward loaded gun

fingers iced with nervous

silk spun strands of brown

knuckles white as eyes are trained

looking at the ground

#poems

[soakedmatches]

To fall in love

There is a sweetness there that I would love to roll my tongue over

A butterscotch I'd relish in the taste of popping in my mouth

A warmth that would carry me into the sun, a burning pleasure

Sitting inside my ribcage, a flurry of excitement and fluttering wings

But aguesia plagues me

And there is no sweetness

Nor the celebration of butterscotch

The warmth is a staccato breath

And wings lay limp in their cage

#poetry #original poetry #poems #writers and poets #spilled ink #love #aromantic #aroace #i want to be in love so bad

[soakedmatches]

Late-night text messages fall in front of my self absorbed pity party

Somehow, I find yours, staring at me with an instagram notification

Half an hour ago

You ask me how it is I calm myself down

I nearly laugh at the irony before my brow creases

I pray I’m not too late

I’d swept you away for your birthday a few days ago

Despite my eyes heavy with jetlag and sleep perpetually glazing my eyes, you accepted it

You said it was funny because I’d taken shots without the damage to my liver

And now, a message blinks back at me that what I ended as an amazing day, for you ended in a torrent

All while I’d succumbed to the will of sleep

I shrug off the guilt on my shoulders and focus on the heaviness of the beaded blanket in my lap

I list off lies that I read on a website once while searching desperately how to solve the ache in my chest

I send playlists of distractions, sparks of light I’ve caught inside my oubliette, collecting them in my pocket and cradling them when my chest feels like caving in and while rats gnaw at my flesh

Though I worry it’s not enough, because my light isn’t yours

And though I know my problems aren’t yours, I fear we might be the same

The clock blinks back at me with ungodly hours

I roll my tongue over my teeth, tracing textures I’m familiar with so my anxiety can balance between a bite, where my front tooth is chipped on the bottom

I check for what seems to be the thousandth time

I’ve haven't believed in God since unanswered prayers to waiting twelve year old ears

But tonight I ask him if I wasn’t half an hour too late

#poetry #original poetry #poems #writers and poets #mental illness #i wrote this last year i and i was sad #she was also sad #just one big sad loop

[soakedmatches]

Jasmine Kaur

[soakedmatches]

Jocelyn

A piece of cotton fluff,  plucked from the sky in God’s gentle fingers, golden with calluses and grape vines embracing beautiful brown skin.

You are soft with the carefulness of wind combing through grass and paws leaving coy prints in mud.

I am held in your palm, nails scratching at  my scalp, melting in the warmth your hand brings me. Like the world, you consider me as a whole.

#poetry #poems #poem about a friend #I would literally die for her #not really #well. #you never know #queer #wlw

[soakedmatches]

Scheduling a break up shouldn’t be so difficult

Screen sitting undisturbed, heavy with discussion Eyes rolling at the silence, eager to end it Clock ticks echo into empty halls I call to your silhouette, a mere phantom If I could grab your hand, it’d be different

[soakedmatches]

Tabo

The green paint towards the bottom of the walls was chipped and ebbed away from water damage, revealing gray concrete. Petrichor wafts in from the metal grates of the window, but no drops fall quite yet. Your phone sits next to you on the mattress, silenced. You stare blankly at the ceiling, ignoring the burning in your eyes.  

Your mother knocks softly on the door. "Can you help me with the laundry?" she asks. You purse your lips and take a breath, trying to expel heaviness. It remains, unmoved, a boulder.

Without a word, you slip on your flip-flops and follow her to the yard.

The washing machines here don't work like they do in the States. Instead of a washing machine and dryer, you have one machine, a faded pink and white. One half of it tumbles aggressively, beating the dirt out of your clothes, and the other half spins the water out like a salad spinner.

Mom hands you clothes and you slip them onto the hangers.

"Someone I know back home died today," you tell her. "I'm sad." The statement feels reductive, but you can't manage to translate emotions into words. Rocks sit inside your lungs, knocking your ribs like mallets to a xylophone. The cacophony swells inside your skull, leaving your mouth dry despite the humidity.

 "Oh," she says. "I'm sorry." And it's enough to quell the ache just a little longer.

She hands you another shirt. You slip it onto the hanger and place it on the line. While you walk back to her, you stop by the puppy in the back. You give her a scratch on the head, pinching your eyebrows together at the bugs hiding in her fur. You mention it to your mother briefly. She says she'll take care of it.

Once you finish with the laundry, you slip into the bathroom. The faucet drips slowly into a twenty-gallon bucket as the edges of tiles prod into your heels. 

You look at yourself in a small, plastic mirror. You've never had larger bags under your eyes. It barely looks like you. 

You grab the tabo and swish it around the big bucket before taking it, full, to the sink. You cup water in your palms and bring it to your cheeks, rubbing off any sweat or humidity you've gathered. You grab talcum powder, a pile in your hand distributing to whichever bits of skin incessantly stick together.

Then, you take a deep breath, counting.

Inhale for four.

Hold for five.

Exhale for seven.

You repeat this for a while. You breathe out some of the muck. When you open your eyes and see yourself again, you seek out bits you recognize: The beautiful hue of your eyes, the shape of your nose. One at a time, you put the pieces of your reflection back together. Once you can see yourself, you hear the rain start to pour outside the grates. You relish in the sound. For a moment, it feels okay.

Here's the thing about boulders: we imagine they are immovable. Looking at a single frame, it can be impossible to imagine it any differently. There is no time before the boulder, nor do we see the moments after the picture was taken. But every rock has gone through erosion. The boulder sitting with our sternum can't stay there, at that size, forever. Even if we pour just a little water over it at a time, it will decay— whether that be petting a dog or reminding ourselves to breathe. We should give ourselves patience. We should give ourselves kindness. 

#filipino #pinoy #fil-am #writing #Prose #grief #dealing with grief #mourning #death

[soakedmatches]

My dad always talked about how he loved his dad's singing. And I love my dad's singing. His voice is so distinct and warm, with a vibrato no one else has. There's nothing more comforting than hearing karaoke from behind my closed bedroom door.

[soakedmatches]

Latik

You take the coconut in your hands roughly cradling brown skin  splitting her hollow heart in half until her water spills into a glass bowl

You take each half of her and scrape the flesh against edges until all you have is a  white mound of her innards

Your eyes are shut as you squeeze her as if you’re ignorant to the damages that left her two empty halves  scraped so she’s hardly a shell

#poetry #poems #filipino #PinoyPoetry #original poetry #feelings ew

[soakedmatches]

I've only been in love once

I stumbled and tripped over words

And I strung out clumsy sentences

And tried my best to make you want to be with me too

And when i stepped on my shoelace

And scraped my cheek on the pavement

I watched as your soles stepped further away

And though the memory's distant

I still find myself yearning

For your faceless figure

To whom I can find holding my laces

[soakedmatches]

Our cliches comfort me

The ringing of a telephone speaks to the ripe stickiness of a mango

And a mother brown bear rears up to defend her distressed cub

Rambunctious smiles and booming laughter invite coy gazes to a party

Light gently caresses the edge of a shadow, reminding her that she is loved

Bass drops bounce over to acoustic awe

And they intertwined, fingers weaved together in a beautiful basket of flesh

Holding aromatic bundles of bread, tied together with beautiful ribbons

We take a bite through the hard shell

It cracks to perfection, leaving the crumb to melt over our tongues with pleasant warmth

#poetry #poems #original poetry #friendship #writers and poets #poem

[soakedmatches]

I imagine the softness of your lips against the smoothness of my cheek

You'd smile, arms wrapped around me so tenderly

But I blink and I'd see you with arms wrapped around her

Cherishing her with the same admiration you hold for me

Laughing at her jokes with the same air of fondness

So I find myself put off from my fantasies

Because your eyes glisten just the same and you hold on just as tight

Therefore I'm the same as anyone

[soakedmatches]

The cells on my tongue shrivel

As words sit unsure in synapses

But my hands allow me

To reach for soft fabric and place

Cotton-stuffed affection

Into your lap

I look away

Foolishly hoping it is enough to dab away waterfalls

Assurance secures you to my eyes

Affection proves a spider silk tether

Easily snippable by a common thought

[soakedmatches]

mission complete

—

there’s something in the olive oil

some sort of comfort

we may never find anywhere else

and ever since that discovery,

I get excited when I see it in the recipe

walking through the hallways of ecstasy

you can smell the garlic

I knew the day I brought you home

from the market,

the farmer would smile

finding out your story

got even better

.•.peako green•.•

[soakedmatches]

I am a peach, pit rough as it roles around in my ribcage

Banging on my bones like bars of a xylophone

Making a cacophony that I cannot block out

Though my thumbs are pressed against my eardrums

To where they begin to drip regret

And even if you approach me

With open hands

I do not grasp your wrists for support

Because I do not understand fullness

#poetry #original poetry #poems #writers and poets

[soakedmatches]

I just need someone to keep me

from drowning

For I cannot throw myself a

Buoy to keep afloat

I can't twist comforting words into sticks

To build a raft to rest on

And my heart is much too heavy

To remember the buoyancy in my lungs

Which might push me to the surface

So the seafloor supports solemn

Covered in sand blankets

And sea creatures

Whose memory will ebb

After the ocean grows dark

Sealing all into silhouettes

As my lips purse together

Sadly attempting to grasp onto

Poison bubbles

Who used to treat me so kindly

#poetry #original poetry #poems #writers and poets