Tag: mine

We as a species are always trying to find comfort in purpose, as if we need to justify our existence on this planet by having a ‘reason’ for being here. You do not need a purpose or a reason to be alive on this planet. You have a right to be here simply because you are.

Rather than seeking comfort in purpose, find freedom in understanding that you have no purpose, and that is okay. You alone are enough.

i realized that sometimes i’m scared to be alone because i feel like i have no purpose, but then i realized this. // a.s.m

my mother asked about you today.
i didn’t know how to explain
that your name
on my tongue is like
novocaine;
that i’ve been waiting so long
for the numbness to
fade.

i still feel numb when i hear your name. // a.s.m

slip dreams into my drink tonight 
so i may write you poetry 
from the skies within my mind. 
knock down the dams and let the water flow 
from the nerves in my brain,
through my veins,
out my hands, onto this page.
twist your fingers between mine
and pull me back down when i get too high.

a.s.m

i don’t want to lose this
but don’t know what to say
to make you believe that
i want you
to stay.

i know i’m not very good with words, but please look into my eyes and feel that the love i have for you is real. // a.s.m

do not ignore what
little love is given to you for free, my
dear.
you can’t just
store me in your kitchen pantry
with your non-perishables.
i am flesh and hollow bone and
i am rotting from the inside out.
if you do not make use of me soon,
i will be gone from here: when the wind blows
through your open windows, i will be
dust on another man’s bookshelf.

you can’t just save me for later // a.s.m.

i am i am i am
nothing
yet absolutely everything.
i am my decomposing
grandmother, six feet under Michigan soil.
i am being rejected from thirteen jobs before
falling in love with the one i have.
i am the insecurity and self-hatred
i have shed like a snakeskin,
insatiable wanderlust, and
falling asleep early on a Friday night– 
trying to write poetry with invisible ink
on the apartment walls in hopes that the next person
who runs their  fingers on them will carry
a small piece of me with them.
i am both my aunts and my mother,
so much history for a soul
that feels much too small for its body.
i am struggling with existence these days
unsure if it’s a game or
a dream, or something in between.

mosaics are made from broken pieces but they’re still works of art, and so are you. // a.s.m. 

When I tell you I love you, 
I don’t just mean how
I love the brilliant green of your eyes or
your contagious, body-shaking laughter or
the way you kiss me.
I mean I love 
the face you make before you sneeze
and the way your eyebrows furrow 
when you’re deep in thought
and the way your ears get 
bright red when you’re angry. 
When I say
I love you 
I mean that
I love you and
all of the parts of you that make you
exactly who you are.

there is not one thing i would dare change // a.s.m

I’ve heard that quote that says ‘do one thing every day that scares you.’ But what if every day is a nightmare that I’m not quite sure how to navigate? What if every day in itself terrifies me? What then?

the unpredictability of my state of mind makes life similar to a haunted house ride // a.s.m

i tried, i tried
so hard not to
step on your toes, even though
sometimes i felt like
you’d intentionally poke them out
under the crack of your door to see if
i might do it anyway.

i tried so hard to
make sure
you had room to breath;
that when you looked over your shoulder
i wasn’t always there. even though
sometimes all i wanted to do was kiss you.

i let you breathe.
i let you breathe without me.
and i think you realized that
sometimes the air is fresher when you’re alone.

a.s.m