you were the worst thing that ever happened to me

and my eyes are still stormy

my heart still bleeds

but when i fell,

it was selfish of you to not blame yourself

i hated myself because you let me

you used and abused me

until it was the only attention

i ever learned to get from you

you broke my heart in a million ways

but i’ll never take back the pieces you kept

i hope those shards of self-respect

haunt you every single day

and you never touch another girl

the same way you touched me

i can’t forgive you for bullying me

into submission

but i can pray that satan reserves a special spot in hell

for you

-elled

Your eyes met mine.

A moment so divine.

Everything faded.

I, eladed.

So many things I wanted to say.

Not enough hours in the day.

It is a moment I will often rue,

for I know I should've kissed you.

#poetry #love

I wish

It didn't matter

That she was a better singer.

I wish

It didn't matter

That she was a better dancer.

I wish

It didn't matter

That she was a better artist.

I wish

It didn't matter

That she's prettier.

I wish

It didn't matter

That she's more social.

I wish

It didn't matter

That she has better vision.

I wish

It didn't matter

That I'm compared to her.

I wish

It didn't matter

That I'm not as good as her.

I wish

It didn't matter

That this all makes me feel empty inside.

we are a result of a drop of gasoline and a wild forest, slowly burning down the woods and until the fire reaches the last leaf, i whisper to myself this:

i tell myself that i am dust.

withered into the soil you walked on.

i am ash:

kicked into the drying water by your mighty pride.

i am dirt:

tossed around and trashed by your ungraceful hands.

i am hopeless:

screaming your name, gasping for breath at the end of the lake and yet somehow singing the melody of our poetic heartbreak.

-naurin abubaker

#poetry #love #heartbreak #prose #naurin

Her words were like little stars, exotically blinking and reaching towards me.

They were like comets, streaking and mesmerising. Beautiful and momentarily bright. They were like supernovas, exploding and obliterating anything else.

They were like meteorites, fast and furious. Agressive but so damn transfixing.

They were like black holes, where you don’t notice you can’t escape until it’s too late.

She was like space, deadly and silently. A galaxy, constantly evolving and changing. Unapologetically herself and flying to corners of existance you didn’t think could be there. She created this universe for herself.

She already had one, but somehow took another. She was the center of mine, too.

I warn them about the chaos and the turbulence. I tell them about the emotions and the past. I recount all of the ways I embody a soul too difficult to handle.

I am open about my inability to feel less and my lack of evasive mystery. I open up my chest and dissect each ventricle of my heart with bare hands even showing them how I restitch the seams that often burst open due to a capacity being breached.

Like show and tell, I explain that it’s content has never been discovered in any other human. I look in their eyes and I tell them how they make me feel, unafraid of their answer.

I give them the insight of my aura by stating that I am a too-much-woman and I recount how many left due to such. I display my unapologetically exhausted soul’s passion—an intensity I’ve never received but refuse to alter despite of such.

I, without script, explain why every inch of my enthusiastic love is not temporary and welcomed to the home of my heart after too many years of wishing I could rid them of their visits.

I remind them I’ll never change, that I owe it to my persistent endurance and undying loyalty to ever silence who my Me really is.

Although, I must admit, there is just one thing I never mention—the one thing that ends up being hardest for them to handle after all: their regret of leaving me.

Gemnah Maley Bray

Lately I’ve been more angry with you than anything else. I’m a little sorry. But not as sorry as I usually am. Maybe I’m not sorry. What I am is in love. I mean, It’s just that I know, I know, I know that I told you you’re the light. And you are. You are. You are. It’s just that right now I’ve got a headache and I’m angry and, well, I don’t feel like basking in you. Not anymore. Not while I feel the burn. And I do. It burns. You burn.

Then I get more angry because I know you’d just say I should’ve known better. I mean, look look look at all those freckles. Right? But then I remember again. (I’m always remembering)—remembering there was more to that. There was always more. Cause then I’d say I hate them. Those freckles. And you’d say you loved them. You’d say ya know, you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You know, you said that when I met you. But you also said it when I left you. Or you left me. Or made me leave. God I just, I hate burning in the sun.

I’m angry again thinking about how you’d still blame me. That you do blame me. For not knowing better about you: like how you’re not the sun. How you’re no good. How I should’ve known known known. How I’m so wrong about your value. Lately I almost believed you and that maybe I was wrong but no no no: I never was. I know because I remember the glare and how impressed but afraid you were to watch a woman of petite stature strong enough to stand the intense light these baby blue eyes stared into. (Remember those baby blues? You had a hard time looking at them because they made you feel something). That’s how I know I’m not wrong. My eyes reflected your sun. There it is.

You see, your light still fucking blinds me. But guess what? I’ll never pretend it’s not there. You’re still light. You’re still the fucking sun. You’re July. My favorite July. My sunniest summer. But you also still fucked me over because you didn’t like the way my heart was willing to weather your most difficult storms and the way my love was unafraid of your darkest nights. You hurt me because you never knew how to be loved unconditionally and feeling it now was more than even the strongest planet could handle.

Lately I’ve been more angry with you than anything else. Why? I can hear your voice. At first playful until you see I’m serious. And a sadness masked by stubborn pride will ask me shakily, your dark browns never meeting my blues, no, bug. Cmon. why? How did I hurt you? So I’ll have to say cmon, you know.

And you’ll pretend your face doesn’t show what it does: that you do know and you do care but you can’t admit that. You can’t admit love. So, yes. You do know. How you fucked me over when you pretended I’d live under your warmth, safe and sound, through every season. When, in reality, you just liked the way I slowly burned at the sight of you; your ego loved the view of my pride’s vulnerability and blatant disregard for a guard you promised was okay for me to put down.

Oh but then here we are again, I’m back to never denying what you are to me—always I circle back around, like the earth does you each day, to how I feel about you. And it’s simple, lately I’ve been more angry with you than anything else but, we both know my honesty is a quality even heartbreak can’t shake.

So here’s the truth:

you?

You’ll always be the sun.

And for me?

I’ll always be the only woman that loved you at your darkest. I’ll always be the only summer you remember being shown your light.

So, now I’m not so angry with you cause I know I know I know, when you dim again—you will look and look and look across the entire fucking universe and clear as day, by the light of your own rays, you will see me again. Except, by then I’ll be loved by another man who knew in an instant, on any given day, no matter the weather, from season to season that I deserved every fucking planet.

You always found a way to blame me

For everything that wasn't my fault

Even when there was no fault at all.

Your anger got a hold of you

And you would lash out at me

Because I was the first thing you saw

Trying to love you, to calm your storm.

But you were just that.

A storm that couldn't be stopped.

And I was always standing right in your way.

Waiting for you to knock me out

Like the power lines that always find a way

To tangle themselves into a fiery mess

Every time the wind blows during any storm.

And that's just what you did.

Tangled my life

Into

A firey

Fucking

Mess.