There you rest in my poems,
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When I was young,
I used to tell my mother
I wanted to see the stars.
I wanted to feel weightless,
Borne of air.
I wanted to touch the moon
And hold a handful of light.
My mother told me
It was quite impossible.
I would have to be older and wiser
To even learn about those things.
"It's not that easy"
She had told me with a smile
That meant I was only being silly.
Years later, when I met you
I knew my mother was wrong.
Your eyes held every bit of light
Of all the brightest stars,
You made me feel weightless
Like free falling from the highest cliff.
With your face in my hands,
I could feel every emotion
That made this life worth living.
When I found you,
I knew I had found what I had always wished for.
But my mother was right
About one thing.
It was not that easy.
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I have a dream,
and that is to wake up
where my life is heading.
Constantly overthinking // ma.c.a
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I wasn't always like this
sprawled marbles rolling
into tiny collisions-
there was a dreamer, once
buried within this husk,
mind traveling fingers scratching
at memories til they dripped
there used to be a rhythmic dilemma - I would whisper incantations like spiraling smoke,
lift limp words into fleshy feelings,
clasp beauty beneath solitude,
run my lips
along the underbelly
of velvet nights, stencil starlight into dreams
now, words are corpses
[muted colors, hoary winter]
tongue fossilized from disuse
only, place your hands
against my spine
crack it open/
kiss the marrow, feed my blood
feel this energy
as monarchs' wings
from this cavity of my night
into your orb
of prismatic dawn.
Image: Smoke (Pinterest)
* a tribute to a new poetic beginning
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I walk in magic fields, I don't wait for life to happen. I am carrying my anxious heart that's heavier on certain days, but I am carrying it gently.
I am sitting alone with the raindrops and sleeping to the sound of thunders. I am awestruck by the clouds filled with an ocean.
I admire the sunlight falling over the ocean. I am the cold breath that's turning warm inside my soul. I am flowing slow and far away.
I am not rushing into life but moments are crashing onto my pages. My pages are running out of ink, I am now imprinting my stories for it's difficult to memorize these lines.
I often leave parts of me at places, in conversations that didn't go how I thought they would. I leave parts of me at places that bring back my trauma.
I am learning to hold new relations and carve out the old ones. I am learning to nurture and nourish, I am learning to grow again, but softer this time.
I don't invite sadness over a cup of winter anymore, I don't sip on dark thoughts. There's only to a certain extent that I can keep them away, there's only so much white that you can dab on black.
I don't want my life to be beautiful, I want it to be magical. When people think of me I want them to be inspired to slow down, I want them to go against the gusting wind and simply, slow down.
I want my life to be like new music that you fall in love with the very first time you hear it.
I don't invite people anymore, my own company is like tealights in a dark roomI am content and in love with my own company. My own skin feels prettier every single day and I don't pick on things like I used to.
I am not a broken piece of glass, I am a house plant and I'll grow new leaves when the old ones shed off. I'll grow flowers every time someone plucks them out.
I am not incomplete, I am not a half-written story. I am growing, I am, letters waiting to turn into words, I am wings waiting to fly.
- trustonlystars | Jannie F
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The currency beneath each footfall leaves
a stranger's kiss
I have felt you hovering
in my autumn leaves, in columns of opaque rain
where we met
within an unbroken before
behind a cracked door's whisper
memories of lyrical fingertips
retreat along my slender railing
way past midnight
- I awaken to you -
leather-scented lover's stare, familiar vapor
permeating my rippled lake,
beneath a charcoal moon-
I am haunted by your hunger
words whipped with smoke
linger in my chest
I breathe nostalgia, desire,
(lick my lips and smile)
eyes cast inward
can you see my thoughts
feel their sensual tides
as mist, spraying sensations
my storm slowly
envelopes your coastline
until there's nothing separating
your words from mine
this you in me
Rhapsodyinblue45//This You in Me
Image: Woman By the Sea by Inna Montano
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“When you love me,
I’m kinder to myself.”
When you surround yourself with people that love you, they teach you to also love yourself.
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How to love a boy who can not love you
Not because he doesn’t want to, no
But because your wires and his are crossed
In different directions
You are manufactured to crave and give affection
To drown your lover with your attention
He is constructed with different materials
Though he can reassure you, aid you in difficult times
He can not hold you when you cry
Or tell you he loves you when he says goodbye
You dream in love, in sweet caresses
In a lovers kiss, in tender expressions
His touch is cold, his mouth is set
He will not love you, the way you’re meant
He will not love you, not now, not ever
Give up now, let him go
In your heart you already know
He is not your destined “Forever”.
You deserve so much more.
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Pg. 18 from my poetry book, The Moon Taught Me. Available on Amazon.
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you feel a low tremor,
and expect the earth to quake, shift miles along a fault.
heaviness in the air,
and you wait years for an unimaginable, dated storm.
praying for a great love story, one to be told for a century.
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The letters of your name I have engraved on my soul in a special language only love knows.
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—Lilllium, from my piece This is How We Self Destruct
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Thousand miles away from where we began
But for you, darling,
I would do it a thousand times again.
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And when she falls out of love with you she may not say anything directly,
But she may no longer ask you about your day, she may always be to tired to talk about hers. You may notice that her voice lacks enthusiasm when you call her, that her eyes no longer look into yours in quite the same way when speaking.
You might try to salvage the sinking relationship with random flowers but isn’t that also what people bring to funerals? You may tell her that you can change but words begin to miss the mark the further away people drift apart. The ship has already sunk and like any sane person she’s already taken refuge among the pieces of wood drifting away to an island of isolation.
You will watch her float away, you will be helpless as water overtakes your vision, as it floods your lungs. You will try to swim only to find that your arms lack the strength, you will try to float only to find yourself sinking in regret, you will wonder if she’s made it somewhere better than you in that moment.
When she falls out of love with you she may not say anything directly,..
- but usually it’s because she knows that her words don’t get through to you anymore..
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I wrote the following two years ago as an exercise with my class when we were reading a war novel. I revisit it two years later now (cancer free) and one week before full knee replacement. Sometimes, we learn the painful truths at a young age. I have been blessed with such opportunities:
How do your explain cancer to another? Cancer is loneliness, but that's only a facet of its full complexion, because it's also a terrifying, and captivating, and illuminating, and a painful as hell disease. Cancer is an unknown; cancer invades and terrorizes your sacred spaces; cancer is a tragedy; cancer sets you free.
The lessons pose opposing truths. It is a death sentence labeled to my skin, the pink ribbon pin set upon silver thread piercing my chest. You can't see the invasive cells growing like clustered grapes along the walls beneath my breast, nor can you smell its toxicity creeping along as kutzu ensnaring the good cells that fight my cause as if the body were a battle field riddled with smoke and canon fire and men falling beneath noxious gas. You smile and admire the survivor, not feeling the stitches that sting, the flesh burns from radiation, the daily pilgrimage to radiation that targets the bull's eyes riddling my chest.
Cancer is a tiger tearing at flesh and a unifier of love and hate sewn into the flag of survivor. You learn to slow down after cancer, to admire the sunset erasing softly into the crevices of nightfall, to hug people and admire each of your gaping wounds, to compliment the unnoticed, to appreciate the smallest acts of others' kindness. Cancer is a true war story that makes you tear the facade from your skin and wear a renewed reality, adorning your inner truths without worry of judgment or humiliation. Cancer makes you her casualty; cancer transforms you into her warrior.
Rhapsody (2 years💕)
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I am sitting in winters, someone's absence feels a lot more present than the presence of those around. I am here back again, and no matter how far ahead I get in life, I will come back to this music that holds onto the warm memories of the last winter for me. It takes me back to the time when everything felt beautiful, when everything for once was warm in the arms of love. A year took away a lot from me, and I spent the next few months filling those empty spaces. But I realised that the void is never to be filled, it is meant to eat up everything to make me feel lighter. This music is trying hard to make space in my head that's spinning, and a heart that's swirling. Each of these words I type are making me count the letters, it feels good to be alive once again. The feelings are still shattered but I feel a lot lighter, a lot at ease than before. A little low on love, a little distanced from myself but a lot closer to where I should be.
- trustonlystars | Jannie F.
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Let’s sit on the balcony in the dark and drink rain until the moon sets and the sky comes back again
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we could climb to our feet
beat a hasty retreat
start all over again
without all the baggage and pain
we could have one more chance
to waltz through life’s merry dance
tripping to a new merry jig
as we no longer give a fig
we won’t see another day
no more hey lads hey
as tomorrow will never come
night’s moon not followed by the rising sun
we’ve become just too broken
so many brick bats thrown, harsh words spoken
our shattered pieces never to be mended
all that pain never to be comprehended
but I’m asking
we could leave the past behind
see the future with a clear, hopeful mind
face our life as a fresh new start
once more your dreams in my heart
so what do you see
is it a maybe?
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weirdo call out
Where are my weirdos? That is my life-long question
My mirror? My good doppelganger?
I thought I wanted a friend - maybe I needed a lover
No one answers when I show myself
because no one really dares
We hide in the nooks and crannies of the world,
banned from public eye - we resist in the dark
Are my screams too shrill?
Are they pathetic? Are they sad?
Or are you? - another missing link
and your soul, in natural make up
Everyone is busy making plans
But everyone is yet afraid of facing life
Everyone wants to fill the hole
Everyone keeps missing the picture whole
Everyone is empty - bars are full
We're scared of others - so we chatter
It's all beautiful - but we uglify it
With our fear of being true -
We are all lost - so
Find someone matching your sins - or maybe counteracting
and love will make you good to go
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