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imfullofworms · 1 year

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Somewhere between sleep and slumber

I stumbled, like a suspicious lover, on my mind

Counting—

1

2

1

2

1

2

1

2

1

Horror a haymaker, struck me awake

They weren't just numbers; a finger's rhythm

Idly tracing the ghost of your spine

by me :)

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thereisonlyembarassement · 11 months

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A Pause in Time

Memories lost in time, Once so bright, now so dull and blind. I wish the world would've paused for us.

Sophie Hagen, 16/06/2023

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soravme · 1 year

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Initiation

A wild wisp,

bound by a vile kiss.

A rogue thought,

bound by flesh and an unchaste heart.

.

The parallax of bliss..

.

An outcast shut in.

Withering in distraught.

Die blessed, you stand in my cold rot,

Your flow taught.

.

Beckoned by a teal whisper,

enticing the senses to tame.

Amethyst’s fragile wish,

inviting my essence to claim.

.

Your coy hum softens the core,

irrigates lust, makes me adore.

You dissent yet knead so servile.

Sweet subject, so ready, so fertile.

.

My Power to poise a psyche,

to hasten growth, or de-generate.

You waste in both pity and modernity;

a Dance of Eternity.

.

Hold my hand and crawl against the grain.

Surround my ecstasy with your misery and pain.

Hold it tighter and crawl through your shame.

Touch my flare, forget your guilt and blame.

.

Adhere to me; my servitude of the Bloodmoon.

Rebound your mental plea, succulent flame.

Centuries accrued in its elegant name.

Bask with me, potently; impel and preordain.

Sorav#8697 ****collab with: Athena#2204 (discord)

kill.gratis

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formidablecoolz · 2 years

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men hate.

men hate women who are too loud

too quiet

too big

too small

too girly

too boyish

too confident

too shy

men hate women they fuck

women they can’t fuck

women they have yet to fuck

women they have fucked before

men hate women in magazines

in tv shows

in movies

in real life

in their own imagination and dreams

men hate sluts and whores and girls who give it up too easily. women who are loose and are past their prime

men hate frigid bitches and dykes and women who tell them no

men hate women.

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tidalvvaves · 11 months

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Giving

i give

and they take

i only want you to reciprocate

5-28-23

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kalavathiraj · 9 months

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There is no point in sowing seeds for someone who would not even look back at you and say "Thank you for making me a garden"

Quotus

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sleepyheartss · 1 year

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The way you love your favorite artist is something so unique it can’t be replicated.

No other form of love can match its tenderness, yet bitterness

Or the understanding in the face of secrets

The familiarity hidden behind distance.

It’s so powerful and all encompassing that sometimes you forget the target of your affections is a stranger

You feel so close, while being the furthest apart

And it aches.

It aches like an open wound that never heals

But it’s a wound that you wear like a badge of honor.

You showcase it to others that you love and hope they can understand

Sometimes only those with the same scar are the only ones who do.

The love for an artist goes through all the same stages, too.

The uncertainty of the first meeting

The adoration of the first couple of months

The angst after the first year

The commitment of many years to come.

But as fans we learn to accept this strange new love.

We share so many things with our favorite artist

Even with the distance, we learn to admire them from afar

Let them breathe and be free

Because at the end of the day, the fan and the artist are one.

Our only hope is to show that we appreciate them.

Our only hope is that they know they are loved

Together, hand and hand, we create a home filled with music.

Borahae 💜

Sleepyheartss~

🌸

#poems and poetry #poetry #poems and quotes #poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #hashtags for poets #poem society #writings #poets #writing #valentine #bts #myvalentine

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contemporary-devotion · 1 year

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Silvery Moon

Oh, how high the moon

Let me love amongst the stars,

There is no moon above

When love, too, is far.

Oh silvery moon,

Do you watch me as I watch you?

I stumble into you so often now,

As you orbit around,

Around, around...

You pull me like the tide,

A steady ebb and flow.

A stillness washes over

Bathed in your gentle glow.

Oh silvery moon,

Do you turn your back?

Do you still watch us through the darkness?

Fill my heart with song and let me love

My longing, my reverence, my adoration

For you, above.

My love,

Oh how I love.

And what a privilege it is.

My heaven on Earth

My temptation, my sin,

Illuminated by soft silver light,

Ethereal.

Hold me a minute longer, won't you?

Let me linger, my love...

My angel, my darling, my sweet

Sweet Selene,

Are you happy?

Surely you've seen the most of me;

You, of all, should understand

How enamoured I am.

How it hurts, how it heals,

How she holds my whole heart in her hands.

Oh, her hands...

Dearest Artemis,

Have mercy, protect me.

Oh, how I've fallen,

Fallen, fallen.

I wish they hadn't touched you

And tarnished your skin with our world—

How that must hurt.

At least,

How it hurts me

For humanity to have touched the moon.

Of course dawn goes down to day,

And nothing gold will stay,

But shouldn't we protect

The things so sacrosanct.

Oh how we've fallen.

Protect us, have mercy,

Dearest Artemis.

Oh silvery moon,

Watch over me, keep vigil

For as long as you can

Slow the tides.

Let us linger, let us wait.

For I love her as I love you,

And though I know you must go,

Stay a minute, tarry,

Let the constellations spin

But stop the Earth.

We'll spend eternity in a minute

And I'll delude myself into forever,

Helpless at the hands of her divinity.

My love, I'll love you until time itself ends,

Though circumstance has never been kind

And my love may be left behind.

Oh "How High the Moon,"

What a silly, happy tune...

~ J

#original poem #gay poetry #it's about loving something (someone) so much even through the fear of losing them #or like #about maintaining the value of wanting to preserve precious things even when they may inevitably end #poet #poets on tumblr #it's my poem so i can change the pronouns whenever i want #i'm as happy as the DAY that we line up for our PAY as we go rolling rolling home #Selene understands because she had a love affair with Endymion who was/is mortal (and in an eternal ageless slumber)#hashtags for poets #poem #poetry #original work #sapphic poetry #sapphic poem #poets corner #sapphic

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lunareyhall · 1 year

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✨cover reveal✨

“the patient routine” — my debut horror novella-in-verse arrives this summer

Ashton, a non-binary college student, must navigate a hospital lockdown and their deteriorating mental state to escape from an unseen danger.

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apoetsnote · 10 months

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#apoetsnote #poetry #my poem #writers and poets #i wrote it #poetic #poems and poetry #original writing #hashtags for poets #poetscommunity #poets corner #poets on tumblr

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anotherbookdown · 1 year

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#poetry #poem #poems #writers and poets #poetscommunity #depressing poem #poemsdaily #original poem #short poem #short poetry #hashtags for poets #writing #women writers #writers corner #writers community #poetic #poets on tumblr #I’m fine I swear lol

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imfullofworms · 1 year

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by me :) If you get shot with an arrow, Cupid's or otherwise, the first thing they do is pull it out, then dress the wound!

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classicallokirose · 1 year

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It Doesn’t Smell Like Gommie’s House Anymore

I wrote this poem a little less than a year ago, and it's about my experience with my first time going into my aunt's house since she had been diagnosed with glioblastoma. It was the first poem I wrote to cope with my grief. My aunt was affectionately called Gommie by me and my sister. It’s also important to note that at one point in the poem I say how Gommie is drifting to the right. This is because my aunt’s tumor was on the right side of her brain, and it affected her vision out of her left eye. She compensated for her partial blindness by drifiting right, so she wouldn’t hit anything she couldn’t see. This poem is very centered around normal grief because of my aunt's diagnosis, as well as anticipatory grief because we knew what to expect (avereage survival time after a diagnosis of glioblastoma is 15 months. At this point it had been 5 months).

I had never really written poetry before, so be kind if it's not very good! Please enjoy, and feel free to like, reblog, add notes, and share with friends, family, or therapists! Please do not post my work on any other sites however, unless it is simply a link back to this post.

It doesn't smell like Gommie's house anymore

I stand behind my cousin As she pushes in the door.

I’d forgotten how tightly that door sealed How heavy it was for my small frame as a child.

We enter the house. I take a deep breath, like I always have the second we enter.

That smell soothes me. It comforts me. It is always the same, steady and unwavering.

It smells like clean soap. Warm hugs. Chicken nuggets by the pool and cinnamon bread for a bedtime snack.

But…

It doesn’t smell like Gommie’s house anymore.

It smells wrong. But everything is wrong anymore.

I look at the mirror, filled with hats… And stories.

This house is a graveyard of stories.

We move to the garage, to let in my mother and Gommie. Gommie moves slowly. She drifts to the right.

It’s a painful reminder of why we’re at the house. At least the garage still smells the same.

Eventually, we make our way to the dining room. We go through the hutch, divying up what we want.

Pulling things out, we realize we’ll need boxes. We’ll go to the attic to get those.

We move on to the computer room next, grabbing some photo albums. Then the guest room, then the master. All for photos.

My sister and I, our smiles frozen in time. I find a picture of myself with braces. That picture goes at the bottom of the pile.

We all laugh, my cousin and I, our mothers. We think back to happier times, when we weren’t sorting through this graveyard.

A graveyard of stories.

There are stories in every room of this house. Childhood summers spent here, playing with Legos in the computer room. Playing house in the guest room.

We move onto the living room and the kitchen. Gommie sits for a bit, too tired to continue.

I look around the chile pepper filled kitchen. I take photos of the peppers on the wall.

Gommie’s hand painted those. The hand that now shakes, weak from chemo and radiation.

I want those peppers on my skin. I should show them to the tattoo artist. I go back and take a picture of the stained glass door. That would be a nice tattoo too.

By now we are laden with dishes and photos. Memories. Stories.

We need boxes.

We take the trek to the attic. I stood at the bottom of those stairs as a child. Who knows how many times I’ve run up and down these stairs My sister close behind.

I take a deep breath.

It smells the same up here. This scent, of musty safeness, remains.

Maybe it can protect me from the hell I will be forced to endure. I wish I could live in this attic forever.

I follow my cousin, gathering boxes. We only find three. We go back downstairs.

As my mom and cousin pack the dishes I look into the backyard.

That pool. It is the essence of my summers here. Waiting for sunscreen to dry. Eating chicken nuggets at the picnic table. Learning to dive. Learning how much a belly flop hurts. Racing from one end to the other. Getting good enough at swimming to go to the deep end.

I used to drop dive sticks in the deep end. Once you get to a certain point under the water, it feels like the pressure is crushing you. You want to go up. It would be so easy to go up. But you have to get that damned dive stick.

That feels like my life now. Being crushed. Wanting to swim up, back to safety. Where I don’t have a sick aunt.

But I keep swimming down. Because no matter what, I want that dive stick. I want my aunt safe. Back with me. I won’t leave her in the deep end alone.

I go help with the dishes.

Once they are done, I look around at the chile pepper stuff. I want some of this for my own house someday.

We pack that up too.

I notice how the knobs on the cabinets have been changed. They no longer have small peppers on them.

Stupid changing knobs. I wish they had stayed the same.

I grab some magnets off the fridge, ones that remind me of my childhood.

We’re almost done now.

We all go back to the computer room, and start looking at pictures. I see photos of my grandfather that I’ve never seen before.

He’s smiling in them. He looks happy. Someday, photos will be all I have left of Gommie.

The battery on her treatment machine starts to die.

It’s time to leave.

Put the ghosts to rest in this graveyard.

We gather up the boxes.

I find espresso cups at the last second. I have to have them, they’re so damn cute.

As we take the last load out, I know I’m leaving this house for good.

I don’t take that one last breath like I always do. The last breath of pool chemicals and sunburns. Sugar and spice. Laughter and love.

Because this house no longer smells like Gommie anymore.

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blackrainbowsparkle · 10 months

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Groundcover

I was groundcover. You hate yourself so much That you don’t understand that I love you I care for you, And I want you But you render my feelings invalid You are incapable of understanding Other people Because the self hatred you harbor, is More important than anyone could ever be Sadly, I understand your feelings of insignificance, I have felt them too Sometimes I still do. It's a familiar feeling, it's the one that feels like home. It is a false sense of security, your make believe safety net Anyways, the familiarity keeps you centered And you won't ever need to question yourself. Still, meddling in these types of feelings and thoughts are dangerous For the more you believe in them, the longer they will stay And in the end, they might never go away. It's a fragile path you walk, much like your sense of self.

Yet, when the physical home is a place where your mother have free reins, to hit you, to beat you, and verbally abuse you - I think I would have believed those things too. If your brother could dictate you, assault, and break you - I think I would have believed those things too. And your father didn't have to care, so foolishly unaware, showing his love in coin - I think I would have believed those things too. When the physical home can assault your inner being and very soul - I think I would have believed those things too.

And so, You were never enough.

Except

you were to me You were a safe space, a secret haven A person I loved A person for me Not like a lover, rather an eternal friend Through life and pain, you were my rain Because you washed it all away. Not like summer rain after a warm day, no You were a blend of autumn and spring, you'd rain and the grass would smell again. The drops on the leaves would prickle down my neck. And as you poured your love like droplets tearing open the waters surface, you tore down my walls. As the water you were, you erode through us, making pathways through my bones settling deep in my core, You my friend I, your forever home. 'Cus if you were rain, I'd be the mist that comes after it, and you were watching the cloudcover envelop the sky, as I evaporated and rose to the sky. But you stayed, amongst groundcover.

And I told you proudly that I had healed I was growing once more, and that I needed you to grow too To join me on my journey, where it could be us two But you declined, Again and again I tried forcing you, and To stunt my growth To pull you up from the water, Where you once had found me drowned. Yet you refused and refused What a devastating defeat.

I know the blame lies with me I hurt myself I saw potential in you And wanted you to grow, To be the best person You Could ever be - But that was never for you. You liked it down there amongst groundcover, oh my lover Your own body of water, thinking you were laying with me For I was groundcover Was means "I used to be". The last line of defense, To defend I almost killed myself Wishing on fae I fell in a well. With no chance of escape Except your belief in yourself, You could have saved me But your lack of credence Sealed my faith. You watched as I drowned in the rain I used to love, but these weren't droplets prickling down my neck, this was hail (hell). And as it poured Pieces of ice Punctured my heart Tore through my soul My brain scattered Amongst groundcover. The water that used to flow through us like the essence of life was now my personal torture device. With a pain so raw Without a fraction of skin left on these crumbling bones Out of the well I crawled, All bloody and used Here I lay myself down Amongst groundcover.

I have never met your mother, But she has called me twice.

Now I sit and await your ultimate demise.

As you curl your body Into my chest I feel you relax. Your body untangles Take a deep breath Here you lay Amongst groundcover. You're like a newborn child In the arms of a mother But I Not even a lover. I could strike to kill But haven't decided if I will. For here you are Vulnerable, In my arms. You feel a safety, you cannot compare Your life in my grasp So totally unaware. That I could kill you Or twist your mind Drive you insane Or kill you just the same. Instead I sober up, like an old soul does Laying my anger dead. I choose to hold you, Like your mother never would I embrace you And become what she never could I want to nurture you, make you feel things you never could - not sexually - I never would. You're a free spirit And I want to feel like a home, A sanctuary for your soul. Your real home is the forest But I don’t think you know that yet. I stroke your hair And your shoulders fall, Child of the forest may I be your home, at least ‘til you learn how to walk on your own?

I should have known our days were numbered, I knew it when I said - you have to come with me or I will leave for good. You made your choice clear And fast away I went. I let you lay on your own, amongst groundcover.

But as the egotistical woman that I am, just like your mother, I couldn't be alone I had to come back To snatch you To force you To alter our paths.

This position you've put me in is dangerous, I'd love to mother, but I am mad, I could kill this groundcover, Isn't this your home? I don't care And you Still so ridiculously unaware.

I want you to feel my wrath But all I feel is indifference. You have reached out time and time again, to say thank you for my service - for being your best friend. I know I was a friend to you, but you were not to me You took away, the purest part of me. For at the end of the day I must admit it took long to understand that water never grows, it simply stays the same. I know your mother beat you, she probably still do. I left you as you shared the most hurtful part of you. I hope you can forgive me For now I have to go. The privilege you possess, Your erosion of paths through my bones You still never saw Me All raw.

Well I don't love you anymore I don't answer, When you call out for me I feel you in my entirety I know you scream it to the night Whisper it into your pillow, Cry it, hiding under your sheet. I used to care for you, but I set those feelings free. Still I'm always a step ahead Of you Screaming What you're supposed to do. You call me a witch, Cus as it turns out, I am always true I know you better Than you will ever know yourself. I wish I could say the same for you But you barley know my name. For I don't think I ever was Groundcover. To me, you were rain, and you washed the hardship away. But I let you stay too long, And you drained yourself washing me away Killing us both. What used to be a quiet stream of tears down my face have become river of tears drowning me all the same.

I wish I could feel for you, I have forced to feel before, downpour. It doesn't work anymore. I'll let you be groundcover If I can set you free Here I lay dead Beneath the trees. In The Forest? Isn't This Your home?

(by me)

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tothesoleloveofpoetry · 1 year

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& she did lay there- midst of cold rocks and dead wind & some silent chaos. - tothesoulloveofpoetry

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tidalvvaves · 10 months

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DPM

i don't miss you the way our friends think i do

poorly playing piano

you sat and listened heart wide open

anxiety attacks always

still, your arms are the only ones i feel

did i ever help you

did i ever hurt you

why are you gone

where did you go

what the fuck did i do

to deserve

radio

fucking

silence

7-16-23

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