it was the perfect set up
capitalism, the media, your friend’s Instagram, human unrealism told you today was going to be perfect
and then it was not
and then there was work
and then there was the hormones of your womanhood
wickedly pulling you into the depths
your legs don’t work. one of them is broken
your heart doesn’t work
emptied existentialist fears are coming back riding on the waves of work and afternoon heat
and you’re too tired to run. you can’t run.
you remember at 19 you’ll never run the way you did for the rest of life.
nothing works – what do people do on their birthdays?
Oh my god, I have forgotten
that I am not waiting.
Not lacking. I have everything inside to put myself back together.
So no, I don’t want anyone’s reassuring smile, anyone’s love that will lull me back into this crumbling.
I am perfectly okay. This life, this cool after-rain breeze,
this quiet evening I get to keep all for myself,
everyday, all of it, over and over again – for always.
I will fill my heart with evenings, with the peaceful expense of the sky, countless evenings.
They will pass into me.
And still I will be kind to others, to the world. Will not resent the evenings that I hug quietly
another shitty confessional ‘poem’ but girl I don’t care 🙂 I’ll write whatever I want to and be judged however I deserve to be.
I want to look ridiculous
look fiercely independent,
a harsh streak of colour on the soft sunlit pastels of perfect girls
I want it to scream something is damaged,
something is mine
this body, face, mistakes,
these wins. this heart.
they are all mine.
This sphere bleached chemical discolouration
tells you no one can love, crush your illusions for you – I’ll be my own antidote
not yours, not anyone’s.
There’s a fire in my limbs
it leaks out in rivulets
snakes south, twists past ravines of
3am thoughts turned second nature even when the sun is up.
Are aches just ghosts of what was once full flesh?
Or are they deadened receptors to the pain that still rears alive?
Why do soft girls grow up?
Grow cold, grow freezing
from all the wet dripping down curves
Brief fever of opening –
body, heart, mind
and finally, eyes.
The last to go, the last to close
Seeing everything into reductions, into chemicals, into an impersonal.
Do these ears still listen to soft wishes?
Travelling with these girls was definitely the highlight of summer. 🙂 it’s so easy when you have people you don’t have to try with. the friendship and laughter just flows. Doesn’t mean there wasn’t conflict though we did have small fights but I’m glad they got resolved ❤
Gonna carry this feeling of safety and peace in my heart for the rest of the sem. Here’s to a great semester! Hope you’ll have a great one too!