The pustules of flower arrangements bloomed
like unwanted pimples all over her second-floor
apartment. All bargain bin floral patterns
on pillows and a pistachio colored carpet
serving as some form of greenery.
Long gone were her days of prancing around
her mothers Pollock-like garden of potted plants,
pebbled paths, and wildflowers.
A place that still made sense
when you could look at the big picture.
Now at 27, the reality of things had penetrated
her bones and although she persisted that she
didn’t miss the outside, she knew the pain in her
body was like an unwanted party guest that she
had no choice but to host.
Life did not take pity on her, so she had to settle
for the peonies and painted daisies as interpreted
by some artist, who, like her,
would have their life’s work sold at half price.
Thrifted prizes to place around her overpriced loft.
It was her way of growing a garden from inside her prison.
It was this or taking the little green pills.
#poemoftheday #rhyming #rhyme #floralpoetry #sadpoem #depression #medicine #poet #femalepoet #alejandrabastids #mychemicalhoemance
To know you is to know peace in a world that has been loud and cruel.
Yet my ears have not been deafened to the noises of the world
but expanded to hear things I once believed to be fairytale.
Things that make me wonder whether I was not a fool
to have trusted any words of love hurled at me by any before you.
I see now, it would be like comparing a pebble to a precious stone.
When their love sounded like static and yours a symphony,
do you blame me for questioning whether it was love at all?
#newpoem #lovepoem #spilledthoughts #loveletter #femalepoet #shortpoem #love #romance #iloveyou
Your Daddy Issues
I heard your pain before you even spoke about it.
Your eyes were loud with trauma gifted to you
by a father whose traits you fear you have.
A father who you can only understand
if you’re high and playing poker
because you’re used to games with him,
rather than connection.
Everything you didn’t say about him,
gave you away.
And even though I understood you were broken,
a part of me expected you not to follow his example.
So I write down those unsaid things because maybe
if I put into words what you refuse to say aloud,
you can understand yourself, and we can both heal.
#poetry #prose #challenge #trauma #childhood #daddyissues #relationships #adulthood #shortpoem #womenwriters #poetrycommunity #healing #psychology
I’ll stuff the sadness in my pockets,
like a kid would their candy
and carry it with me while I’m out having fun.
Not because I secretly wish to mourn us,
when I should be making new memories
but because it’s weirdly comforting.
I met you knowing you were temporary,
and the melancholy in that should be bitter
but knowing you at all is what makes it be sweet.
#thoughts #poem #poemoftheday #unrequitedlove #twinflame #heartbreak #writers #prose #poetry #nightthoughts #journal #journalentry #shortpoem
Dear E, Happy Valentine’s Day
I made a playlist for a sadist,
who is shamelessly self involved.
One who couldn’t resolve himself to
just take responsibility for his actions.
How embarrassing for him,
because my reaction - my conclusion,
is that all of this confusion,
can’t just be for your amusement.
It’s because you’re fucked up,
and it was just my luck that I came to meet
you when I did.
I poured my heart out with my favorite bands,
and now I understand why girls like
Bridgers write so much music,
it’s so they don’t lose it, with these boys
who make you feel joy just to take it all away.
To my dismay, Bob Marley was right when he said,
“The biggest coward is a man who awakens
a woman’s love, without the intention of loving her.”
Is it even worth a mention how you scoured your
own heart for words to make me feel secure,
just so later I’d endure the actions of a saboteur?
I was so committed and it’s so hard to admit it
because I genuinely thought you felt the same,
and maybe you do,
but your insane attempt at showing it
made it easy to let go of you.
So when you’re on the island,
I hope you think of me awhile and
every song you hear
makes it clear that you don’t deserve someone
who will pour their soul out to you.
Pour yourself a drink instead, maybe smoke a cigarette,
and try to get me out of your head,
while my music plays in the background,
and all those stories we talked about,
make you remember you’re unoriginal.
Watch them form.
The tantalizing beads against their pale backdrop,
dancing as the moon reflects
and meets these beads.
Her hands, callused from the drying clay,
wipe them from his sculpted brows,
and she smiles.
Minerva herself would be tempted to bring him to life,
if only he were finished.
She cannot understand what it is her creation is missing,
why his body never hardens, why it still forms depressions,
where her sorrow can fill the mold.
The water that she used to mix her medium
is cloudy and quiet,
so you hear her pain behind the swirls of white and gray.
She sees the mass before her be replaced,
by something semi-solid,
staring back at the woman who made him.
She cannot wait there for the rest to become corporal.
To become real.
So she walks away in the hope he finally sets.
But she walks away too long
and the sun does what the moon could not.
She will never converse with her manifested mixture.
By the time she returns, he is old and dry.
And so is she.
The beads are well gone into his eyes,
his mouth shaped shut
with years of words both could never say.
#newpoem #poetry #poemoftheday #love #art #movingon #growingold #oldage #clay #sculpture #sculptor #spilledink #questions #moon #sun #artist #youngpoet #femalepoet #women
Tonight, I look at the way my skin
is wrapped around my body.
I admire how it can cover every inch.
I recognize the distinct look of every wrinkle.
I love the warmth of every cell.
Yet, too often
I expose myself to you,
Your coldness is your only interesting quality.
You are ideal to study
but you are flat in your humanity.
I will not let someone so fickle,
whose outstretched arms could never
even embrace me,
be the reason I doubt
what perfection is supposed to feel like.
#art #poemoftheday #newpoem #youngpoet #prose #metaphorical #follow #spilledthoughts #night #nightthoughts #poetry #new
The way Psyche was awakened from her death-like sleep,
so to have I been from my own.
Except Eros is not waiting for me when I open my eyes.
There is no winged hero or fated lover,
no reward for loyalty or the immortalization of our embrace.
Just the light from above and the knowledge that I should rise.
But how I wish that you had drawn the sleep from my face
and put it back in the box from where it had escaped.
So that when I do rise, I can do so meeting your gaze
and trusting that between us, a mutual love awaits.
But I open my eyes to find I am alone
in the same house of golden columns and citrus woods,
surrounded by the beauty and possibility of everything
and everyone but you.
#poem #poetry #greek #psyche #eros #cupid #love #lovepoem #spilledink #greektragedy #venus #allegory #youngpoet #untitled #unrequitedlove #feelings #rhyme #slantrhyme #metaphor
I look upon a barren land
of sand on sand on sand.
All seeing eyes of mine, will
unwind the secrets buried underneath.
And I will ask a thousand times,
for there is no thin line
between the product of a ribcage
and the molder of the bone.
The disparity is always in favor of
the masterpiece alone.
Yet, reason has failed millions,
who tilt their heads back,
- thinking it’s in love.
But life will surely lack
with an invisible above.
I do not mean to offend thee,
for I believe in pleasantries.
And if my future holds a fate
in a circle below,
then I am almost sorry
that I am in poor taste,
not attracted to the show.
#poemoftheday #thoughts #religion #agnostic #atheist #god #female #bible #rhyme #questioning #heaven #hell #poems #poem #spilledink #woman #eve #lilith