Free Verse · Free verse Poetry · home · micropoetry · Poem · Poetry · prose · sadness · Uncategorized · Writing

Where was Home?

But where was home?

Was home a building, a place, a time, a person?
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Was home the warm smell of coffee brewing early in the morning
Or was home the clean smell of detergent on your pajama clothes late at night?

Was home the crisp smell of paper as you sat down to read or was home the stingy smell of ink leaking from the pen?

Was home even a smell,
Or was home the feel of your worn out comforter as you laid to rest each chilly evening?

Was home the feel of slippery tiles under your bare feet
Or was home the feel of fraying petals between your fingers?

Was home the view of the city lights outside arched windows
Or was home the view of green grass outside narrow ledges?

Maybe home was a time, a time to where you were more happy
Or a time to when your heart was more whole,
when those you thought you’d never lose were still by your side.

Was home your house, or was home the house where your grandparents lived
Where the air always felt lighter, and the stomach always fuller?

Perhaps home was the old coffee shop across the park where the people were always kind, or perhaps home was the library down the street where the stories never ended and magic was always within hand’s grasp.

Was home your country where the roads were always familiar
Or was home a foreign place, yet not explored?

Was home your mother who always calmed your heart, or was home your friend who stuck by you through thick and thin?

Was a home a building, a place, a time, or a person, yet not found?

How was anyone supposed to guide you to home
If you didn’t even know where home really was?

body image · female objectification · Free Verse · Free verse Poetry · micropoetry · Poem · Poetry · positive body image · prose · sadness · Uncategorized

No More Pretty

No more flowery words
No more wispy vocabulary
No more false hopes woven into
beautiful phrases
No more lovely poetry
No more lies
No more pretty
No more pretty
No more pretty

Here’s a salute
to all those
who could not hide behind
a pleasing exterior,
those
who could not package themselves
into pretty wrapping paper
with a bow on top
Glittering
just to visually appease
those who looked at them

Here’s a salute
to all those
who could not deceive others
with their delicate lies,
who were
just as they appeared to be,
who did not hide behind
cakey surfaces
to earn approval
and validation from those
who did not care
to look beyond
the pretty picture

Here’s a salute
to all those
who were brave enough
to stand just as they were
and were not ashamed
of all the things
that made them
human,
to all those
who did not hide
marks and bumps and ridges
just to appear
more than they were

Here’s a salute
with my middle finger
to all those
who dared put down others
just for having flaws
and imperfections
for being human;
for being themselves

So no more flowery words
No more wispy vocabulary
No more false hopes woven into
beautiful phrases
No more lovely poetry
Just the truth
No more lies
No more pretty
No more pretty
No more prettycd69fa304e14703812980b919b38eb2d

Free Verse · Free verse Poetry · micropoetry · Poetry · prose · sadness · self love · Uncategorized · Writing

The art I never was

I think I was only born
So I could create art

I think I was born
So I could write
And never be written about
So I could draw
And never be drawn
So I could paint
And never be painted
So I could photograph
And never be photographed

So I could feel
And make others feel
But never be felt for

Maybe I was just born
To create art
But to never be art

body image · Free Verse · Free verse Poetry · Poem · Poetry · prose · sadness · self love · words · Writing

The beautiful I was 

God I wish I was beautiful
I wish I was beautiful
In the conventional way
All light skinned
Hour glassed
Glossy cheeks
And red lips
The kind of beautiful
That turned heads in public places
The kind of beautiful
That drove girls
Wild with jealousy
And men
Wild with desire
The kind of beautiful
You found on the front page of magazines
The kind of beautiful
That you knew was beautiful
At first glance

Instead
I was just the beautiful
That was in my own way
The beautiful
You really had to look for
And dig deep to find
The beautiful
That only certain people saw
The beautiful
That didn’t catch eyes
Or turn heads
Or drive girls wild with jealousy
I was the beautiful
That didn’t really make me feel
All that beautiful
Most of the time

 

Free Verse · Free verse Poetry · love poem · mental health · Poetry · prose · ramblings · sadness · words · Writing

Poets are Liars

Don’t believe everything we say, we’re poets and we lie often. We put together flowery words intricately woven together to hold just enough depth and emotion to make your hair stand on ends, just enough to make your eyes gloss over with tears that had been locked away.
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We’ll tell you all kinds of things.
We’ll tell you
How some people are broken puzzles, crossing the earth to find missing pieces; pieces that will resonate with yours, making you believe it was you they had been searching for all along.
We’ll tell you
How there is beauty in pain, that scars heal and fix, that if you break, someone will be there to mend you and put you back together so beautifully you’ll wonder if you ever were really broken in the first place.
We’ll tell you
How love is nourishing and beautiful, that once it makes a home within you, you’ll never want it to leave. We’ll make you believe as if the colors will change and somehow the stars will shine even brighter than before.

Not surprisingly you’ll believe them all.

And one day
when your heart is breaking and you feel pain so raw it’ll gnaw at your skin,
you’ll realize
that the hurt you feel is vicious and ugly, you could dig a grave and still not find any beauty in it.
You’ll realize
that sometimes scars don’t really heal. That sometimes they stay as blurry lines across your skin and no remedy can mend the skin that was once broken so unapologetically.
You’ll realize
that the emptiness you feel is from the holes within you that could never be filled because you have lost things irreplaceable.
You’ll realize
that the colours don’t really change, the smog covered sky doesn’t part for the stars and the lights you see shining brighter are just street lights at a distance.
You’ll realize
that people don’t always stay when they see what a mess you are, sometimes the glue dries before you’re mended and pieces lost stay lost forever.
You’ll realize
that not all endings are supposed to be happy.

When all that dawns upon you
you’ll kick and curse yourself,
you’ll  wonder how you could have been so naive to sit in a dimmed coffee shop with pages of poetry strewn across
and believe every damned lie that was sprawled on them.

Originally posted on my Instagram

Free Verse · Free verse Poetry · Love · love poem · love quote · micropoetry · Poetry · sadness · words

Forgetting you, 10 years from now 

I often wonder
If maybe
Trying to forget you
Was in vain,

If maybe
I shouldn’t have tried
So hard
To erase every trace of you
From my mind,

If maybe
I should not have wasted
Away my ears
Listening to loud music
That blocked my thoughts
Swarming around your name.

Because
Even after
Having used
So much of my energy
In trying to move on,

What if
Maybe
10 years from now
My last thoughts
Before falling asleep
Would still be of your face
And how I longed to see it
Just once more.

And I’d realize
That somehow
I still could not
Get rid of you