tumblr original poem – Page 3

We are so eager to find home anywhere except within ourselves.

home shouldn’t have to be a person or a place. if you can find home within yourself, everywhere will become home. // a.s.m

there are places
i cannot look at myself
even when i am alone;
please don’t
touch me there.

please love my naked soul,
please do not force
my layers off, do not force
my clothing off
before i am ready because
this body is the only thing that
i’ve ever been able to call my own
and i am not ready to
give that up yet; i’m not quite
ready to let you in.

i am learning how to grow
my own boundaries from
the dust that has finally
settled, and this body is
the only vehicle i can drive.
i am not quite ready to
share it yet.

i know you see beauty,
but the mirror paints stories of
pain and struggle and learning and
growing and scars and
bleeding
that only i see, and you can never
own that.

i don’t want to belong to
anyone but myself.

i cannot sell my body and
you cannot buy it.
i am scared to share something
i have only just learned to
love and care for because
with just a touch
you have the power to
break it.

my body is the only thing i’ve never had to share with everyone and i cannot find it within myself to let go // a.s.m

hands grab hearts
only when they are ready
to be touched;
a middle ground where
nonsense forms beautiful truths.
i am speeding down
the road to
eternal madness, and
all i can see is poetry
on the horizon.

too weird to live, too rare to die // a.s.m

i never learned to
walk. i learned to
tiptoe
around eggshell grenades
on tile kitchen floors,
to dance gracefully
dodging projectile dinner
plates on
Sunday afternoons,
to twist and crawl from
torrid gazes, to leap
out of the trajectory of
missiles spat under one’s
breath, and amid the floods on the
kitchen tile, to land
unscathed.

i’ve only learned to move in avoidance: do not live your life simply to dance around eggshells // a.s.m

clockwork heart
beating to the rhythm of
your affection,
i am everyone else’s
property but
my own by the age of
four.

a mannequin child
a dress-up doll,
a dog small enough to
carry in a purse. but
i don’t bark–
i’ve been well-trained with
self hatred and
your back to my face.

i bet you didn’t know
you’d shrink– disappearing;
the sun drying you
like a raisin until
you shrivel.
i no longer feel
so small. i no longer seem
so weak.
you no longer seem so right.
you are not my god anymore.

i will run barefoot
across the yard with
my hair down and shirt untucked.
i will breathe a little
too deeply and know for once
the only lungs
i can burst are my own.

mother // a.s.m

my mind cannot breathe.
there is too much pain
in here– it has been
sitting for quite some time;
rotting.
suffocating
me.

don’t dwell on pain; it will only suffocate you // 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

You started off as an addiction with an exhilarating high, but you’ve dwindled into more of a habit.

inspired by the shins: “so affections fade away, and do adults just learn to play the most ridiculous repulsive games?” // a.s.m

The rain paints
the world into
watercolors on my windshield.
Four lights shine
on the horizon just above
the hill where I went on a date once.
I remember him and I
had brought a blanket
to look at the stars that night.
We wrapped ourselves in it
and he kissed me and I felt
so loved then.
So in love.
With him? With love?
I don’t know;

In love with something
In love with everything.

For the Love of Being Loved // a.s.m