I wake earlier than I have in a while
before alarms or alerts, just my eyes on the sky
blooming into gradients blushing
a quietness, a peace, an evershifting artwork
is this the quiet before the storm
before the birds wake and tweet away
the uncertainty of how we’ll move through this day—
one nation, divided, into factions of various
realities cemented by our digital space
will we wake up to this earth,
rub our eyes and see the legacy of trauma
we’ve been steeping in for generations
going cold and bitter but saying: this is water.
how do we heal a body aflame
and indignant, stoking fevers only further
but to burn is not the only way through this—
to rest, to nourish, to sweat through the discomfort,
to turn off our devices and step outside
I have faith in these ways
that I heal myself and hold my heart steady
but what if their fires and rage swallow me
sitting still and upright, waiting?
will my roots anchor me through the forest fire
long enough to grow anew
will our collective pain metamorphize?
so I do all that I know how
to water my roots and ground in case of storm
holding my being ever so gently
as we ride the crashing waves of our realities
I only have eyes for you my love!
You don’t know me, and I don’t know you
The only characteristic we share is our birth planet
Each of us is facing each other in a different view
Compared to the universe, both as insignificant as granite
Our stories not known by each other
Our pasts buried in mystery
I wonder if your family fought with one another
Is it happiness or misery that plagues your history
Well, in spite of our personal storms here we both are
So for that let me give you my respect
For regardless of your struggles you still made it this far
Though I can tell the storm is getting stronger and more direct
The buffeting wind is blowing you back
The path you’ve chosen is flowing out of your command
You can’t fight it alone, it’s not anything you lack
All you need is someone by your side, I’m begging you to take my hand
This storm is fierce, but together we can withstand it
The storm is tough, but is nothing compared to our spirit
Desires cannot stay locked away forever. They will writhe and moan underneath all the layers you place upon them. They will slip out in dream, in conversation, passing them off with a subtle smile. To conceal them is to torment them, to stoke this fire which will inevitably burst forth. Oh how I long to be there. When it is all stripped away and your soul is laid bare, naked and yearning for what it truly wants. ~ B.T.
It’s cold outside…. let me warm you up!
i miss it when times were simpler and growing old didn’t feel so wrong
am i even making sense anymore
you always protected
and cared more
for those forsaken four walls
and so i hope
for it all to perish to ash
for you to finally see
all the importance
which once stood beneath
I dream of a world in which we no longer
need to tear our hearts out and dissect
them like dead frogs in
biology class, those rooms were always too cold for no reason other that they
Where our hearts are less like
wild animals in cages
Where our hearts are meat instead of
whatever abomination we’ve made them into
Im begging for forgiveness like
I could ever let myself be forgiven
God could look me in the eyes
and I’d still be looking at my feet
Don’t tell me I think I’m guilty
I know I am like you know I’d drop dead
If only you would just ask me to
Fawn is such a soft word
Far to soft for what has happened to me
I speak to much for a boy who was
taught to never talk at all
You deserve love, they tell you,
or at least that’s what they want you to hear
What they actually say is much worse -
You will never make me happy enough to stay. The world has no room for you left in it.
You have accepted this
You smile when they tell you this
You know it’s true.
The world turns sideways
Everything looks so different from
The world turns sideways and I let myself
The world turns sideways and
no one tries to save me
The would turns sideways and
I can’t say I blame them
I just wish they wouldn’t say they didn’t
see it coming
This poem is for my cat, Blue
she’s made of shadows
with jagged edges
and a soft soul
she’s made of ash
it coats her skin
and spills from her pores
she’s made of the moon
silvered and regal
from the far realm above
she’s made of stars
they burn in her eyes
violent and everlasting
she’s made of rage
consuming her whole
always lashing out
she’s a mother
she’s a fighter
she’s a survivor
Everything is damp on Makron,
It’s a slippery, muddy place.
The locals all swear by the clay’s
Anti-aging mask for the face.
I’ve heard that they live far longer
Than all of us here on earth.
They make ceramics and statues,
And have great mud-fights for mirth.
The people here are masters at
Relaxation, guidebooks say,
So while I’m here, I may as well
Enjoy a soothing spa day!
i was the storm
you never wanted
so i will be the rainbow
you will never see
Write a poem with the following lines:
Day 19: Snakeskin
Write a poem with the following lines:
but the hunger,
of not knowing
Remember, my love ❤
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Have a beautiful day 🌸🌸🌺🌺
I’m not sure.
Is it worth it here
inside my head?
Would I be better off dead
instead of clenching my jaw
until my head aches?
I’m making mistakes and they’ll soon find out.
I’m not really one of them. I don’t fit in.
I dove for days through tragedies that broke both our hearts
though we couldn’t slow down. There were fears that unfolded
like maps of your side of town, unafraid of what it means
to lose your way when you’ve always known where you want to be.
This isn’t me, but nothing really is when you haven’t decided
nothing is as good as taking sides is, especially if you believe.
Go ahead and join me if you’re brave, if you realize
that the perfect path isn’t visible by daylight.
Only in darkness can you find the fear to overcome
and face the day.
Write a poem with the following title:
my sacred heart, why do you drum me down?
a ticking clock, fingers counting down
hail mary, hail mary, hail mary, glory be
what goes quietly? what stays with me?
what plants do i water? how quickly do they grow?
will this holy water work, knowing what i know?
will the moon always tell the tides when to run?
maybe she’ll leave them one day, take off with the sun
the tides, so sure of new shells each day
choosing which ones they’ll keep, and which ones they’ll take
i’m glad some are left behind in the wake
they’ll sharpen my feet or love me for the day
treasures in my pocket for the end of the week
next to them, my sacred heart appears bleak
i burn from the sun like a pearl in the street
wearing shackles in disguise that smell so sweet
they try to guide me along like the moon
but i am not the tides, and i control the afternoon