#icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

I wonder if there is a world out there where I am gentle. Where flowers like daisies grow from each step I taken— Where I have filed down my claws and I do not leave a mark on everything I love.

I wonder if I tried just a bit harder if my voice would be softer, kinder— I wonder if there is a time where I can be soft, and simple.

I wonder if there is a way I could get rid of this family heirloom, this anger, This anger that lingers— Under my nails, in my chest— This painful reminder of my harshness, The abrupt unkindliness of my person.

This anger has been passed down, Father to son, Mother to daughter— A gift that leaves your shoulders heavy and your chest heaving.

There is a reason so many in my family have taken to being loud— I worry that we are not built for being soft. I wonder if there is a day where I will be described as something safe.

When you are born among flames, The ash in your lungs is second nature— There is a reason my parents took up smoking.

There is this burning in my blood— I have my father's eyes ; I have his violence too. I have my mother's hair ; And her loud existence.

I am born into this anger. I am born with this burden. I hope that someday, I will mold myself into something loveable— I think I would enjoy being delicate.

#anger #poetry #poem #orginal poetry #original work #poems on tumblr #spilled poetry #poems and quotes #creative writing #beginner poetry #guilt #the burning desire to be gentle but the crushing guilt of knowing you were not built to be kind #dandelionsinthepavement #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

#orginal poetry #poetry #poem #poems on tumblr #beginner poetry #creative writing #original work #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #original poetry #Grief #grief poetry #grieving #poems about grief #poetry on tumblr #poetryblr #tw grief #childhood #tw death #icarus.poetry #writers on tumblr #writerblr #i have writers block

[dandelionsinthepavement]

my father's love, my first broken bone.

My father says his job is not to teach me to live, But rather how to live without him. A father's job is not to comfort, But instead break you enough times that you find your own comfort.

My father was the first one to break my heart, the first one to break my rose-tinted lenses. My father tells me that they would do me no good. He tells me the world will not change to fit me, I will adapt. My father mocks the tears in my eyes, He does not wait to mock my broken voice.

My father tells me that I need to try harder, or I will rot in my existence. Does he not know that was my plan, because what point in there in trying? My father does not give me a reason to try, and so I return to it.

My father promises he loves me, and yet my father was the one who held me the tightest. His love left me with bruises, and his warmth left me burnt.

My father taught me that not all love is kind or gentle, sometimes love is harsh words and a cold stare. It doesn't make it any less loving.

#beginner poetry #orginal poetry #poem #poetry #poems on tumblr #spilled poetry #poems and quotes #original work #father issues #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

I see myself as something dirty, unforgiven and unsure. You speak of purity and angel wings, I don't think you notice the ones ripped from my back. I dont think you seemed to notice the tears in my skin, Where clawed fingers ripped their way through.

I don't think you heard the violence in my voice as I spoke. I do not think you know much about purity. You do not know how much pain it has taken to become this fragile. You do not know what it takes to be forgiven.

You have cried a thousand times yet you refuse to shed a tear for me. My scars are no better than yours and yours no greater than mine. You speak of kindess, you talk of perfection.

The only perfection you seek is one that does not exist. Open your eyes, the ground is full of dirt. Lay down. Stand up. Feel it. The world is not perfect and neither are you. Pray to a god who has made mistakes. Say the prayers backwards.

Befriend the bugs and the rot. Befriend the forgotten and lonely. Become untouched and unloved. Then; you can speak of kindness. Then, you can speak of soft love and gentle grace.

You have to be bitter to understand that sweetness has a different taste. You have to practice until your fingers bleed before you understand the suffering of the greats. Learn your place, before you tell me about mine.

#poem #poetry #orginal poetry #poems on tumblr #original work #spilled poetry #poems and quotes #creative writing #icarus.poetry #dandelionsinthepavement #anger #but not really #kind of

[dandelionsinthepavement]

where broken things go

Again I find myself in front of the mirror. the one I tried to run from, I tried to break it, to destroy it, to hide it. But the mirror is on my desk. And I find myself staring into it.

Tears carve their way down my cheeks And drip onto the floor below, Beside the bloody tissues and forgotten notes. I stare in the mirror and see, Someone I don't know. Someone I probably never knew. Someone I won't ever have to know.

And suddenly, the mirror isn't so terrifying anymore. The eyes that look back at me aren't mine, And they never will be.

The fractured mirror lies beside me, and I think that perhaps, This is where all broken things go.

#orginal poetry #poetry #poem #sad poetry #poems on tumblr #personal #beginner poetry #writing #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #mirror #broken things #tw sh #tw implied sh #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

devoted to your dagger

everytime we talk the dagger twists, pushes deeper, and i bleed again,

But the metallic taste in my mouth is almost cathartic ; it tastes like a prayer , I will devote myself to you, And to the pain you bring

your hands will be stained ; a bloody red, and my throat will be clogged with roses ; your favourites.

the dagger has our names written on the handle, and our blood combined on the blade.

#beginner poetry #orginal poetry #poem #poetry #original work #creative writing #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #poems on tumblr #Is this romance? #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

To my parents, I'm sorry.

Mother, will you let me cry into your cardigan once more? Father, will you sing me one more song? Please, will you love me just long enough to say goodbye?

Will you care for me with gentle hands, or will they be my own again?

I've grown used to stroking my own hair, holding myself lying to myself crying to myself. All by myself.

Mum, where are you? Have you come home yet? Will you call me your baby one last time? Will you tell me you care before the light flickers out?

Dad, will you carry me to bed? Whisper me goodnight and pray by my side? Will you show me you care one last time? Will you let me be loved for just another moment?

Please hold me one last time, please love me one last moment, Please hear me, please don't ignore my cries, please, please, please?

I'll be good, I swear.

Pinky promise. (even if you're breaking my pinkie, atleast it will be a chance to be close to you again.)

#beginner poetry #orginal poetry #poem #poetry #poems on tumblr #original work #creative writing #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #sad poetry #tw implied suicide #poetry about mental health #literature #short poem #poems and poetry #my poem #original poem #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

There is so much love in this world, but it never seems to stay.

Please, please forget your coat at my house and return for it later.

Never learn to peel your own oranges, Never figure out how to tie your laces.

Please don't leave parts of yourself, Let me hold all of you at once.

I am grateful to feel this summer sun in my chest, and the warm winters evenings by the fire, I am grateful that I am loved.

I only wish that the love would hold itself underneath my ribcage for much more than a moment. I only wish that when I sigh that your heart does not unwind itself from mine.

Please forget your mittens at my house, I'll drop them off tommorow.

There is so much to love and so little time. The unloved are loveable and the unlovable will find themselves able to be loved.

I hold a small bit of this, gently within my hands; like a child's hands clasped around a flower.

I hand the delicate petals to you.

You put it in your hair. It's dead, and will show it soon.

But you're alive.

You're full of this unending feeling of affection and it will never run out.

Please forget to say goodbye, please come running back for a hug.

Let yourself be loved. Let yourself awkwardly answer my calls. Become a daily task. Let me be bored by you.

Stay long enough to have me fall in love with you all over again. Let yourself find comfort in the universe's love.

It is not constant, but you can be.

Let yourself linger in my doorway with words you can't quite say on the tip of your tounge.

I will still love you anyway.

#poetry #poem #poems on tumblr #creative writing #poetryblr #my poetry #my writing #orange #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

the boy in the mirror

On Tuesday last I spoke to a ghost A boy I'd never met In the bathroom mirror He spoke so sadly You'd think the world had left him But really it was him who left the world

The ghost laughed and teased The boys eyes were pure white And it echoed when he spoke But the boy never did say goodbye He writes notes in the steam And sends shivers down my back On early morning days

On Tuesday last I spoke to a ghost, A ghost of a boy I'd never met A friend I never got to know He says he wishes he knew me Maybe he wouldn't be a ghost if he did.

#poem #orginal poetry #poetry #poems on tumblr #original poetry #beginner poetry #ghost poetry #mirror #sad poetry #poetic #i tried something different here #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

I'm sorry mother.

I'm too loud again. I'm talking too much. I got so dramatic- I apologise.

I'm too quiet. I was worried I'd say something you dislike, again. I'll stop overthinking, Yes. Of course. I'm sorry.

I couldn't find my shirt- Yes. I'm sorry for taking too long. I'm sorry. For being selfish- Yes, I know.

No, no I won't. Don't worry. You said you wouldn't like it. I'd never go against you. I swear, mum.

Sorry you didn't notice. It's not your fault. I'm sorry, I love you, I promise mom.

I'm sorry you didn't notice in time. Sorry you didn't care all that much.

I'm sorry I'll never be good enough. Or get the chance to.

I'll miss you. I apologise for making you miss me.

#poetry #orginal poetry #poem #beginner poetry #poems on tumblr #original work #creative writing #spilled poetry #poems and quotes #poetry about family #Bad mom moment #My mum is great though btw #Tw implied suicide #Tw suicide #Ermmmm #sad poetry? #This is different than usual so im sorry its shit #I havent proofread this #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

untitled : not yet dead corpses and rotting flowers from a long dead childhood

between rotting floorboards lay bloodstained flowers, above them

are weeping flowers at my bedside, Among them, rotting daisies. Dying, like everything else.

I have not yet known anything untouched by death, I have not yet known to live without the rot.

I lay wondering about the flowers that will rot with me, on my casket, or by my grave. presumably none.

why taint something so precious with the memory of me?

#beginner poetry #orginal poetry #poem #poetry #poems on tumblr #original work #creative writing #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #sad poetry #tw implied suicide #rot #decay #flowers #untitled poetry #untitled poem #short poem #dandelionsinthepavement #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

Sometimes, I feel a little like I'm on a boat. A small oak wood boat. Floating out into the ocean. A teal blue stretching far beneath me, Leaving me insignificant.

Beneath the water, There's a whole world, Schools of fish, Brightly coloured plants, A thousand different things.

Yet I float just above, Casting a shadow beneath.

Sometimes, when a storm comes, The teal turns deep blue, the waves turn choppy, I feel insignificant, But it doesn't matter.

It's no longer a gentle adventure, but a game of survival.

Is my little boat enough to survive this? Will I survive? Do I want to? (In the end, the storm always ends, and my little boat keeps drifting on.)

#poetry #beginner poetry #poems on tumblr #poem #orginal poetry #creative writing #original work #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #i dont know if this counts as poetry #writers of tumblr #writeblr #i need mutuals honestly #this account is BORING !! #mental health poetry #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

broken glasses

Distorted lenses, Fractalized crystals, Project kaleidoscopes in your eyes, Blue, pink Yellow, green distorted perception.

Eyes full of wonder, Full of love. How much of it is real? How much of it is yours?

Broken glass. warped warmth and contorted creations. Fractured freeze frames, Forgotten moments.

#orginal poetry #poem #poetry #beginner poetry #poems on tumblr #original work #creative writing #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #uhhhh #idk what this is #I don't know how to tag this #I've been struggling to write so this is just an attempt at anything #Thanks #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

tough love

My father says his job is not to teach me to live, But rather how to live without him. A father's job is not to comfort, But instead break you enough times that you find your own comfort.

My father was the first one to break my heart, the first one to break my rose-tinted lenses. My father tells me that they would do me no good. He tells me the world will not change to fit me, I will adapt. My father mocks the tears in my eyes, He does not wait to mock my broken voice.

My father tells me that I need to try harder, or I will rot in my existence. Does he not know that was my plan, because what point in there in trying? My father does not give me a reason to try, and so I return to it.

My father promises he loves me, and yet my father was the one who held me the tightest. His love left me with bruises, and his warmth left me burnt.

My father taught me that not all love is kind or gentle, sometimes love is harsh words and a cold stare. It doesn't make it any less loving.

#beginner poetry #poems on tumblr #original work #creative writing #poetry #poem #poems and quotes #orginal poetry #spilled poetry #sad poetry #poetry about family #poetry on tumblr #poetry writing #poems #poetry blog #short poem #help this is so bad #im trying to get back into writing #anyway #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

my father's eyes

since i was a child

i've had my father's eyes

my mother's hair,

my father's spite,

my mother's hurt.

since i was a child,

I have had a name.

Since i was a child,

I laughed at comparisons,

Grinning with pride.

Since I've grown older,

I no longer take it in stride.

"You have your father's eyes"

I have his anger, too.

"You have your mother's hair,"

I have her cruelty, too.

Since i've grown older,

The mirror scares me.

His eyes, Her hair.

Their child.

All of their worst moments,

looking back at me.

like staring into a fractured mirror,

each fragment another mistake,

it scares me.

(I wish i was not my parent's child.)

#poems on tumblr #original work #beginner poetry #poetry #creative writing #poem #orginal poetry #from drafts #probably not finished #icarus.poetry

[dandelionsinthepavement]

hear me (a forgotten voice)

I sit at the alter of God and pray. I sit and wait for a word or an echo, A single sign to say, "You are not alone" I sob into my pressed together hands, colourful beads and cross slowly warming against my skin. There is no reply, No change, No heaven sent angel. I turn to the to the sky and i beg and i plead, "fix me, make me right." You say you love all, Where is my love? When is it my turn to be the one in your hands? When is it my time? After eighteen missed calls I still wait. The sun sets casting colourful shapes, Over the pristine white. My tears hit the marble floor and yet; You still don't hear my pleas. Will you take notice when the water turns to blood? or am I a smudge of dirt on your freshly pressed suit? forgive me father, for I have sinned. I should've listened to you before.

#Religious guilt #religious trauma #Not sure but like #Yeah #beginner poetry #poems on tumblr #original work #poem #poetry #creative writing #poems and quotes #orginal poetry #spilled poetry #Religious poetry #I guess? #mental health poetry #If youve never desperately prayed to god to fix you are you even a real person ?? #icarus.poetry