#not really a poem

[cheapfakeblood]

i know as well as anyone else that macbeth is not a happy story by any means, but i guess i'm just a stupid romantic, because all i can think of is this:

macbeth lost his hunger for power, for just a moment, upon hearing of lady macbeth's death.

macbeth, a man driven to madness by his insatiable lust for power and glory, who had no second thoughts about sending so many murderers after his opponents, stopped for breath for just a second after his wife died, and delivered the famous line, "Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player/That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,/And then is heard no more. It is a tale/Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,/Signifying nothing." (V, v)

this irredeemable, frenzied man, who could barely be called a human at that point, sobered up enough to numbly reflect upon the loss of his wife before completely losing faith in life and resigning himself for death on the battlefield.

macbeth is undoubtedly a tragedy, of course. all the gore and madness and death ensured that; but isn't it true that every love story was a tragedy, at some point, too?

#dark academia #i ramble #a lot #macbeth #shakespeare #love poem #not really a poem #mini essay #basically #hyperfixation #if you can’t tell #there's a funny story behind this actually #lady macbeth #lady macbeth apologist!!

[estro-gem]

Partners, not Prisoners

Partners hold on willingly Prisoners are bound regardless

Partners hurt together Prisoners hurt each other

Partners merge to build each other up Prisoners break apart to find freedom

Partners find freedom in each other Prisoners resemble each other's cell

Partners work to remain a unit Prisoners laze around for convenience

Partners want each other Prisoners need each other

Partners are not prisoners Prisoners are not partners

#something that popped into my head #i don't know what to tag #relationships #i have my opinions #random thoughts #maybe someone needs to hear this #random post #not really a poem #not a story #just a bunch of opinions #have a nice day #random

[crowded-hearts]

something about us felt tragic

we were doomed from the start

but i still look at you and see magic

yet everything is falling apart

#love #i love you #heartache #i miss you #poetry #short poem #not really a poem

[persongoing]

I want to be held until I can’t imagine being alone anymore.

#cringe #dead poets society #i'm sad #idk lmao #poetry #academia aesthetic #aesthetic #emotions #its not really poetry #love #meaning #not really a poem #my poem #dark poetry #friends #angst #self love #self worth #self help #lit

[car-the-man]

is it poetry if it doesn’t rhyme?

I cradle my broken pieces in my arms and try to put me back together. I look in a mirror that I’ve peered into a thousand times but the familiarity of the scenery is broken by the wound staring back at me. I want to go home in the most primitive of senses, a place where a mother will hold me.

#Mommy issues #poetry #poem #poet #poetic #short writing #writing #vent #vent writing #vent poem #not really a poem

[gh03tb0y]

my hands smell like clorox and i just finished burying the man made monster that crawled out of my toilet covered in sewer sludge, a substance that he said wasn't his blood, and sweat. i broke him open with my own two hands and kissed him gently. he looked into my gaping maw and saw the affection that i had kept tucked between my teeth. he said, "you're so lovely." i ate him raw.

#my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #not really a poem #i just started writing #my hands really do smell like clorox bc i just finished cleaning my toilet #i absolutely love the imagery cannibalism has #like i love you so much that i have to eat you and even that isn’t enough #to have your bones in my mouth #that’s like the closest thing to intimacy i will ever have

[lovesomepoems]

Maybe I was doomed from the start

I mean,

Maybe I was never meant to be permanent.

Maybe I was meant to leave my mark-

One that I have left already.

My mom has her buisness

My friends have others-

They’ll move on

My love..

Well, my love would eventually be okay too

And me?

I’d be back with you

#vent post #personal #not really a poem #but I’m counting it #poem #not even poetry #poetblr #anti endo #sad poetry #bad poetry #bad poem #vent poem

[apolliss]

I love her more than bees love flowers

More than worms love decay

More than anyone loves the air they breathe

#im a simp okay? #poetry #i wrote a poem???? #not really a poem #but its cute #:3 #bpd fp

[ratinthevoid]

so close to being normal

but it's always

another what if and what if

and never

part of my brain got lost in 2014

maybe i could

sorry what date is this again

5 more minutes

and it's done

watching from the future

are you happy then

#not really a poem #im finding new creative ways of venting ignore me

[eve-e-jane]

But anyways, there is something so….. peaceful and beautiful….about a silent night full of stars. The serenity, the love- the stars look down with love. And I look back up with the same. And the moon- she’s so bright! It’s loud but in the way a choir’s harmony might be. Beautiful and bright.

The Sky is full of Sparkles. And I am covered with a Blanket of Peace.

#writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writing #orginal writing #poems on tumblr #my poem #not really a poem #but something I’m thinking on

[inbetweenimperfectmusings]

“Why is it we only get along

When we’re having sex?

Why do you only look at me

Speak to me

When we’re having sex?

You’re always running away,

As if you can’t bear to listen to anything

That isn’t something I ask you to do.”

“Every time you speak to me,

It feels like I’ve been punched.

Hard.

Like blunt trauma

It aches so deeply,

That sometimes I look in the mirror

Surprised there’s no bruise on my chest

Glowering back

Yellow, green, blue black and purple.

Sometimes I watch my stomach

My arms

My throat

Mainly my chest,

Surprised it isn’t swollen with blood,

Surprised my ribs haven’t crushed my lungs,

That I don’t wake up 

Connected to a chest drain

Bubbling fluid from a pleural effusion.

It just hurts.”

Silence.

“It’s so easy to talk when I’m not looking at you.”

He too has his back to her.

“My skin is covered in scars

From where your words have cut me.

My blows may be strong

But yours are sharp,

Well-aimed,

You know where it hurts.

You’re a doctor,

A brilliant one,

You save lives,

But know perfectly well

How to take them too.

The cuts are countless,

I don’t even know where they are,

But the air in the house when you avoid me

My gaze 

My words,

Makes them sting

Because it’s cold.

Each one is a double insult,

One when it’s made,

One a reminder of what I’ve done to you.

I don’t love you 

But that doesn’t mean

I don’t miss your warmth.”

“At least it’s only your skin that’s scarred,”

“The pain we cause each other is not a competition

Skin deep or not

We can’t go on like this”

“Sorry”

She still doesn’t turn around.

“I say it all in self defence,

I don’t intend to hurt you”

“And I wish I never hurt you”

He shifts to face her back.

“I’m not asking for you to go back to who you were

Before you knew 

But we can’t be married 

Spending as much time away from each other as possible 

You can’t work overtime at the hospital

By choice

To choose staying away from me.

I never asked for you to stay away.

I know you think marriage

Only lasts as long as 

Your spouse is human and not

Just yours.

But you’re my wife,

Don’t dispute that.

I’m your husband,

Not hers. 

Don’t act as if she’s standing between us

Every time you look at me”

She turns her head .

“Is she not?”

Unblinking.

“You’re my wife.

You’re my wife.

You’re my wife.”

She finally faces him. 

“I have never known any woman but you.

You are my present

You are sworn to be my future

I’ll do my best to put aside my past,

Will you do so for me too?”

Tired,

She nods,

Eyes half closed,

Puts her open palm in the space between their pillows,

And wakes with his fingers still holding down hers.

#prose #original prose #spilled ink #inbetweenimperfectmusings #not really a poem #each section could be considered a poem #writing

[poetry-of-soul]

On The Love-life Toilet

I haven't written good poetry since I met you I was just too damn happy to drip out bleeding soul Now, you don't love me any more This should be a poetry goldmine Words should be shooting out of me Like a Taco Bell shit They're not, because that's all this is SHIT No amount of eloquence will make this pretty There's nothing poetic about it You stopped loving me

#heartbreak #writing #poets on tumblr #break up #depressing thoughts #not really a poem

[crowded-hearts]

“theres something beautiful about being broken”

no, there isn’t.

we see beauty through pain like light scatters through shattered glass - glittering, shimmering. colours abundant, shrouding the mess in a halo.

there is no beauty in being broken. but we see beauty through everything, through the pain, because the broken mess illuminates everything good and lovely around it.

#broken #love #glass #rainbows #poetry #not really a poem #hope

[persongoing]

I hope I get used to feeling loved. I hope I never have to let go again.

#cringe #dead poets society #i'm sad #idk lmao #poetry #academia aesthetic #aesthetic #emotions #its not really poetry #love #meaning #not really a poem #my poem #dark poetry #friends #angst #self love #self worth #self help #lit

[tinyswampwitch]

The sweet potato dish

Last night I sat and I thought about my last meal.

The executioner would get me from my cell and lead me into a room with my last meal. I would have asked for something utterly ridiculous. Maybe a sweet potato dish. Because sweet potatoes are filling and I would want to die with a filled stomach.

My mother used to tell me that I ate too fast. I eventually came to the conclusion that I couldn't eat slower. It's just not how I am.

I would eat this sweet potato dish and take my time with each bite. Everytime I would pierce one of the pieces of potato I would think about how I should eat slower. How I should cherish each piece because it would be the closest I would ever get to this earth again. And before I could even finish that thought I would be done with the meal.

The executioner would look at me and say: "You should've eaten slower." and I would look at him and say: "Well now I'll never learn how to."

//s.s.l - the sweet potato dish

#creative writing #poem #poetry #my poem #not really a poem

[noiseandbits]

Untitled

A heavy chest, filled with emptiness yet weighing you down at every step

A fear that makes you shiver and sweat with cold

An eternal exhaustion, yet not a blink of sleep reaches you

A big smile, but there is no joy in your eyes

A head full of thoughts but when you try to grab and hold on to one, it slips out of your hands

People all around you, but you cannot see anyone

There is no one there to keep you company,

but you and your contradictions

#just some words put in order #i dont know #ramblings #thoughts at night #not really a poem