poetry on tumblr – Page 11

The people you love are flowers that take root in your heart. Some of them have shallow roots– they are easy to pluck and be forever rid of. However, some have strong, deep roots that intertwine with your veins– roots that you cannot remove without drawing blood. And when you try to yank them out of your heart, no matter how hard you pull, you will almost always leave some root underneath the surface. There are some people you will never fully rid yourself of– there are some people that will always have the tiniest parts of their roots still splintering your heart.

i will never know how deep your roots go, but i know you’re still here // a.s.m

i’m still dreaming
about razor blade kisses
on my thighs
on my arms
teasing tongue
on my neck.
my first kiss
ever,
always threatening
to be my last.
the only kiss
to ever make me feel
something.

i still dream of razorblade kisses // a.s.m

tucking flowers behind your ears
watching the sun dance in the sky
waiting for the air to clear
i never want to leave your side.

from this hill we see the town
i twist my fingers between yours
to keep myself from falling down
because your love my soul secures.

and when the earth begins to shake
fear will not grip my stuttering heart
because with you i know i’m safe
though the world begins to fall apart.

love poem for nobody // a.s.m

craving the structure of a rhyme
to cry out a word and find
one like fingers intertwined
the need for the steady beat
of pounding feet on dirt trails
the answers to an existence
with no right answers.

i’ve been writing in rhythm lately // a.s.m

Silence is not always peaceful, and peace is not always found in silence.

but once you are at peace in yourself, your soul will always be still // a.s.m

the floor of my room is
covered in color-coded
boxes with labels
and yet i can’t quite fit
myself into one.

i am between two universes:
not quite home, not quite
ready to build a new one.
not quite me, not quite
sure who ‘me’ even is.

embracing ambiguity
was never my strong suit;
i’ll fold my body into a box
of my winter clothes
in hopes that
i will dig myself
out in
a few months.

finding me, leaving home. how can i pack my entire childhood into a box? // a.s.m

where your life’s supposed to start
to fall apart
to see the world
to burn the one i made for myself
to find home
to leave the only one i’ve ever known
to start a life
has nothing before this counted as ‘life’?
to figure out
you can’t figure it all out
there’s nothing new after this
it’s the same life in a different light
you’ll be fine.

my heart hangs
from the ceiling fan; a kite
i never really learned
how to fly.
a bloody carousel
i paid too much
to ride.
an exhibit
to be displayed for the rest
of my life, my remains sit
behind plastic wrap walls
that
leave no handprints,
eternally orbiting
emptiness.

modern art bleeding heart // a.s.m

i am running
in circles from
one dead end to another
with nothing to pour myself
into but the corners of these walls
that silently scream with
termites from within.

and i’m suffocating myself
with warm whispers
in ziploc bags. little
presents; promises
that were made to be broken

by gentle arms and
gentler lips.

i am inhaling stale air.

what was once
fresh is now foul,
no longer breathable, no longer able
to sustain life.

dead (end) // a.s.m

birthdays,
thunderstorms, new relationships,
flowers blooming,
last goodbyes,
tears,
kisses,
weddings,
leaves falling,
sun setting,

first hello’s,
deep laughs that make your eyes
water and your stomach hurt,
sun rising,

long hugs,
flowers withering,

learning self love,
a small orb in a vast
universe spinning
on its axis three hundred and sixty six times
and me
learning to live
without you.

things that happen in a year // a.s.m