Poemsbyme - Blog Posts

Growing Pains

I’ve been looking at my body lately

Seeing how it grows

How it’s shaped

How it moves

At first it was fun

Feeling myself being all attractive and cute

Stretch marks on my butt meaning it’s getting bigger is a real confidence booster

But yet

I don’t stop growing

My face is changing

My legs are changing

My skin is taking different textures

It’s a little bit terrifying

And what about senior year?

So close to college

What do I do then?

With a major that is fueled purely by a dream

By a life long passion

I may enjoy it

But for how long?

Will it grow old?

I’m getting older

And I’m scared for what the world has in store for me.

It’s really just now hitting me

That I’m not going to be a child soon

What’s sad is that I don’t feel too much different

I feel more self reliant

Confident in myself

But the part where I understand the cruelty of people and the world has stayed the same

I already knew it too well.

I feel humble

At ease

But also, I feel like a kid that’s not ready

I feel like my body is growing out of my soul

Maybe not that…

Maybe my soul is trying it’s hardest to stretch

So it can fit the shape of my body

I wanna stay a kid

But still have freedom

Is this an option?

For years

And years

I’ve had a mirror in front of my bed

And my gaze would always go to it

I looked at myself

At my reflection

Thinking back to how I was

What I used to see in that reflection

Is so jarring

Growing up may be scary

But it’s also so beautiful

I feel grown

But still young enough to enjoy my life

This is the part

Where I leave my worries behind

Where I enjoy myself

Where I am confident but humble

Where I stop caring about others

And just let me be me

Because this may be the last time that I’m able to do that.

This year

Senior year.

So yes I'm going to post this and regret it right away but then again i can't really control my mind half of the time. Maybe posting this would make me hapoy for 3 seconds but yeah 3 seconds is worth it! Enjoy .🐧 . . .image source- pinterest . . . . . . ... . . . . . . . . . . .. . . .#poetrycommunity #poetry #poetsandwriters #poetryhealsme #poetrylovers #poetry #poetryisnotdead #poetrybliss #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #writersofig #writingcommunity #writersofig #writerslife #writersofinstagram #writingcommunity #writer #poemsporn #poemsbyme #writersmanor (at Why wHy whY WHY?) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSXO7XvJj4t/?utm_medium=tumblr

I pray ,

somewhere between the folds of some pages,

someone wrote what I feel,

the yearning , the coldness , the grief,

I hope there is an explanation.

_@ineluctablehere

TW: Selfharm

Just one cut. Only one tiny simple cut. That's how it starts, one cut.

It starts with one at a time, "I can always just stop". Then it's more and more, you stop wearing short sleeved tops. Your whole arm is covered in cuts and blood, dried and fresh.

Your arm is one giant scar and suddenly you can't stop, suddenly you're addicted. You always wear long shirts, hoodies or pullovers. You tell the others it's just because you're cold.

You get cold easily. They don't even notice that you flinch when anyone touches your arm. They don't know, they can't.

You pray that noone will ever know, how disappointing that would be to everyone. But at the same time you need someone to find out, intervene. You realize that it is wrong and harmful, an addition yet you also can't seem to stop. You can't stop, you keep going. Hoping for someone, anyone to take notice and do something.

You're clean. You've been for some...months, maybe a year or two. You don't exactly remember. No one was there to celebrate milestones, so you forgot. They couldn't have been there, you never told them.

You're clean, but ever time you feel so lost like you're stuck in a void...you want to cut again. You can't help it, it's the addiction speaking. You will never be able to live like "normal" people.

For a while you hide your arm but as time goes by the scars fade. At first you're mortified, they shouldn't fade that would mean that they were never deep enough to be real. But they were real, you bled and your arm is now covered in healed cuts, scars.

By now you only look at your arm sometimes. Noone else can see them, the scars but you. You can still see the distinct lines of where you cut.

You tell yourself "just one cut". One cut couldn't hurt, right? But instead of giving in you start to do other things. You draw, sometimes crochet or write. No more cuts, no more.

The Obsession

Sinking my teeth in, the warmth of his skin,

I'm haunting his nightmares, taunting his demons,

I'm the creature living in his closet,

The whispers when the light goes out,

I'm the demon in his mirrors, the insanity he's afraid of.

Candle light dinner with cherries and wine,

The food stays untouched, growing cold in night,

Cause he's the one I want in my plate,

The one I want to dissolve in my wine,

Take him like my schizophrenic pills.

Serve him in my plate like the prey caught,

To fulfill the craving of him that makes me crazy,

Rip him apart for me when he crawls to me,

When he's on his knees, ready to worship me,

Keep him in the glass case and lock it,

Keep him struck in the house of mirrors,

Where he will only come back to me.

Being Alive

So ruthlessly cold and empty,

These bedsheets mocking my sorrow.

Hearing every tick of the clock,

Reluctantly gazing at the mirror,

Seeing nothing but a wasted potential.

Strong is the urge to feel the life drain out of me,

Yet the dreams keep me awake.

All the thrill left to be experienced,

And all the cities left to be loved,

Leaves me wanting to see the life play out.

Setting the regrets on fire,

A toast to the feeling of being alive.

Let's get out and wander to a new country,

Dancing to the melodies we can't revive,

Singing the songs one never hears again in life.

Falling in love with strangers you see on the train

Knowing you'll never see them again.

Loving the cafes you know you'll never forget,

Turning the pages of a mysterious book,

In hurry, whose title you'll forget.

Iced Coffee

January 29th, 2021

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/iced-coffee

Mother-In-Law

January 1st, 2021

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/artsymagee/mother-in-law

he finally told me he was proud of me yesterday

after i had given all of myself

searching in other people what he didn’t give me

selling parts of my soul for short lived validation

but you’re proud of me dad?

all that is left of me is my heart in your hands

what i’ve become is great he says

but i look in the mirror

and i see a few strands of hair falling from a broken down body

morsels to appreciate

but finally, he is satisfied

-sundayafternoonsedentary

was i created to lie here forever?

molded into a cancerous being

rotting from the inside out

i have been running from existence for so long

only to find out that i will never be able to escape my predetermined demise

so i will remain here

letting a once lovely creation rot

-sundayafternoonsedentary

searching for warmth when you are the only life to be found is maddening

ravenous hands clawing at any ounce of heat

only to find your body slashed and your fingers bloody

colder do the nights get as your being disintegrates

slipping into nothingness

the once lively body etched with scars

remains indefinitely reaching for the love of another

My dearest, I dedicate everything to you. I dedicate every heartfelt songs and poems, but also sunsets and sunrises. I try, with every ounce in me, to make it known; to make my love known. I’ll be tender, darling. I’ll create playlists, but also an Instagram account filled with poems, for you.

My love, I am yours to keep.

From every part of my body all the way up to the thoughts wandering around my mind, I am yours.

I am yours; everything about me is owned by you and only you, nobody else.

Every glance and breath is meant for you.

Darling, I want to be familiar with every part of you.

The way you like your coffee, but also your goals and fears.

I want to become accustomed to the way you pucker your lips and then letting them part.

The way you speak, Indulging everything being said.

Your alluring eyes, addictive.

I love looking at you.

For you are mine and nobody else’s.

Most importantly, I am yours, honey.

—tilwemeetdarling

Spilled ink

Her dark hair is falling over her naked shoulder and nape.

Spilling all over the white linen sheets like a writers mistake.

Strangers

We are now nothing but strangers. With broken promises, unsaid words, lost love and forgotten dreams. We are now strangers with just spilled love and hate.

Hope

Watching the sunrise while I chase away the gossamer of the dreams from the night.

Sipping tea and chasing the time to sunset I hope

Hope a word that makes you do the impossible.

Hope a word that gives you the courage and crushes you.

Hope a blessing to the world as well as a curse.

I hope and hope and hope.

I hope the time slows down

I hope the world brightens up

I hope to see flowers bloom on my balcony

I hope to chase the small bits of happiness with my calloused hands.

I hope to dream of the oceans and the streets far away

Because that is the only thing I can do

As I fall into the depths of my slumber tonight

I hope to see you.

Chair

I watch you read the newspapers and sipping your tea

Basking in the morning sun and little care.

You talk about nothing and everything

I see the shadow of the time as it creeps.

You sit on the chair and talk to the wind

I sit back and watch you.

You have slowed down and your voice is laboured

I watch you and sit back.

Your brown eyes and the greying hair test the time

I can now see the final line.

You have your back now hunched as you are giving a final bow

I can now only ponder.

You grow older with each passing minute

I am still frozen in the time

You sit there sipping tea on your chair

I can only say goodbye and take care.

Summer.

With the blue sfternoon skies

The red evening ones

Summer is here.

The clear night skies of twinkling stars

The warm breezes and the cool sodas

Summer is here.

The sounds of insects and of birds

The sounds of people going around

Summer is here.

The summer where you once again wait

The summer where you let go

The season of change

The season of the same old patterns

Night stars and the stories we share

The dawn comes and walls collapse

The summer of love is here.

"You search for home"

You search for home in the smell between pages,

You search for home in warm sheets of your bed,

You search for home in the warm cup of coffee,

You search for home in the light that peeks in your window.

You search for home.....

You feel at home in the chatter of your friends

You feel at home at the dinner table with your family

You feel at home in the arms of your lover

You feel at home with yourself one afternoon

You become your home.