TUMBLR POETRY – Page 11

I don’t love you anymore, but I am still hopelessly in love with who you used to be.

painfully in love with memories // a.s.m

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

ice cube
goosebumps,
kiss me with snowball
lips. melt the ice
stuck between my teeth;
melt me.
pour me in a pitcher,
swallow me whole
so i may glide past your heart
to osmotize into
your cells
and never leave.

i just want to be the water in your body; i want you to need me to survive // 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