[x]

truthsi.

there are 2 things that not even the most
forceful of rains can cleanse me of:

-memories
-mistakes

ii.

sometimes, i feel like a caged lion.
only with a lot more impatience
and a lot less resilience.

iii.

i have yet to discover what it means to be content.
i am either too stagnant or too fluid.
no middle ground.

iv.

i have mastered the art of leaving.
it's the idea of moving on that still haunts me.

v.

i fear that the light in my eyes is so dim that it will burn out
before even i have a chance to see the world with it.

vi.

i am not as clever as i pretend to be.

vii.

someone needs to teach me that
i don't need reassurance; i

wastelandthe difference between alone & lonely
was one of them needed me.

i recluded back into the embrace
of someone who didn't deserve to
trace the wings in my lungs into
butterflies, all because of my
selfish desire for solace.

see, i am not practiced
in the art of loneliness.
or maybe i've wrecked enough
solitary canvases to stretch
me all the way back to the
fallen leaves of last october
when his arms constricted my mid-
section; a noose for my stomach.

i wanted to forget
how it felt
to be left.

so i let him stroke my shoulders
in an attempt to rebirth necessity.

september's winds brought
whiplash & slick hands.
he snaked in between

stardusti keep myself covered most days.
my waist is a melancholy echo of
the way he touched me 2 summers ago.

the way my right shoulder leans slightly lower
than my left is evidence of far too many misdemeanors.

the cracks decorating my ribcage are memories
of a brisk december morning when my pride
clawed its way out before i was ready.

i am not old; just soulful
with the kind of passion
that flickers like the candles
i light in lieu of all my selfish prayers
that i gave up expecting answers to.

i sob tearlessly & break into smaller pieces
of myself nightly. i am afraid that the salt water
will seep through the scratches in my skin
and remind

2nd priority maili remembered you lion-hearted,
but just insecure enough to let
me wrap my good intentions around
your neck to warm you with the
heat of all their purity.

people aren't games,
but we played each other as if
our backbones were life savings
begging to be gambled away.

you melted inside me until i could
no longer tell the difference between
each of my individual bones.

you started screaming the promises
that were whispering through my blood stream
straight into the gaps between my eyelashes,
telling me that i should've looked for you
at that goddamn bus stop under the rain that night.

you cracked into shrapnel,
told me you were stuck in th

the living roomyour voice echoes through the cracks in the walls.
you whisper secrets into the cove of my ear, i hear you curse God.

why does the greater lion always have the tamer mane?
how do i chip away the paint from my wrists to open up my scars again?

peel away my skin like a velvet curtain.
my living room heart sports dust on all its furniture.
take a seat on my will power, wipe your feet on my good intentions.

would you like a warm cup of boiled tears?
i am here to please you.
please continue to mutter those secrets under your breath,
my scars are far past healing.

the pots & pans in the kitchen cupboards are rather rusty.
i won't bother to re

02. nomad, nomadi set my good intentions down
for an impossible duration to
make myself sleep sounder.

i strip myself naked & rough;
my frail convictions flow out
the window,
scattering themselves
like acid rain droplets
on the sill.

and i am not a breeze, but a sharp gust -
wind blown into an envelope like a
29-cent secret never meant to be kept
caged-in

and you were not a mistake, but
destroyed yourself before
i was given the chance
to undoubtedly do the same.

what does it mean to lie in someone's wake?
to be in the ever-presence of another human,
to feel breath short and isolated against an empty chest?

you showed me patience,
but never how to

i would say my father is a wari would say my father is a war horse but that is a failed symbol
because he has been dragged through the dirt as many times as this metaphor

i want to write in abstract like in a book of
contemporary poetry i bought over the summer;
it was all syllables and lines of 'talk talk talk' repeated over and over
i want to write something that describes how i feel without saying a word that describes it -
like:
dust and ache and tired and bone and overflowing and lonely and fuck and .

i want to write poems that have meaning without being cliche i want poems
that defy grammar and space and time because when someone reads them, they become me

001 i am a whirlwind of
bruised knees
(purple)

an aching heart
(dark blue)

twisted guts
(red)

&
a regret that could
crumble mountains.
(green-green-green)

starvetoday, i don't hate myself enough
to deny the hungers for -

distractions
a cup of coffee that will treat me like sin dancing to the pulse of my bloodstream
food
the absence of guilt
cracks in personality
screaming poems silently at my reflection
silence

today, i will gorge
on the things i vowed to give up.

today, i will break vows.

today, i am a glutton
for relapse and binge cycles,
for starvation and changing reflections.

tomorrow, i will wish
i could be the skeleton that
hangs in my closet.

[ leave the tears where they lie,
take the fallen stars and ripped up wings,
do not regret spinning circles
around vices. ]

ashthe first time i looked into your eyes
was one year after meeting you.
my toes barely dipped into the pond
of blue before i realized there wasn't
much to swim to.

i fooled myself long ago into thinking that
if i was ever brave enough, i could plunge
into your endless depths and bathe in purity.
soak up your little-boy grins and weave laughter
with you, creating the most infinite soundtrack.

but when our irises finally connected,
i felt the make-believe ropes i had looped
through your fingers snap like convictions
too heavy to maintain.

it was the first time in a while
that i had a name for the reason
i was broken.

i shook in a rhythm

confessionalthey say sad girls change their hair color
and forgive their monsters.

i change my morals
and become one.

Istanbulthe cracks in the walls of Istanbul purge
themselves of cowardice every full moon.
the apprehension seeps into the atmosphere
and into my skin, tanning it just the right shade of confusion.

i want to strip the city of its 1000 mosques
and crumble them to rubble.
their divine majesty whispers tu es sofia - you are wise.

and my teeth can't take this anymore,
the way the mortar between the bricks
reminds me of mistakes that only i took
the time to notice.

je ne suis pas sofia - i am not wise.
i am chattel chartered between each of Istanbul's bending limbs;
i am not practiced in the art of forgiveness.
you cannot take me places.

i a

tear the skeleton from his comfortzonei want to build a skyscraper, seventeen stories high
and fill each floor with a story from the people who never said goodbye.

i.
a middle child, born in 1994,
she always wanted to be loved the most
until she learned how to give a blowjob
in an alley behind Miss China’s Takeaway
at knife point.

ii.
she lost her childhood
to an ocean who always thought it was small
and never stopped pushing its borders.

iii.
he’s not sure how he’s supposed to live without her.
staring at the closed coffin, he loses the ability to want to.

iv.
it’s not fair, she thinks,
that the house creaks when she’s trying to sleep,
but when

heritagecome, china girl.
chase in the new year
with your firecracker eyes.

take the tattered remains
of your identity and sew
new clothes from the scraps -

red, to frighten away the
monster that ate villages alive.
red, for good luck, prosperity,

cheeks burning with humiliation.
china girl, when was the last
time you were true?

a heritage you threw away,
unproud of your almond eyes,
and other tongue,

confusing your words.
you were always decorated with
accents that you worked so hard

to get rid of.

03. tidal wavesaccording to scientist and doctors around the world,
my body is 55% water and yours is 60%.
that means if someone meshed our insides together
and swirled our veins into a cat's cradle of passion,
we would equate to 115% water.

enough to drown ourselves in,
to float our minds away from
all the good intentions of spring
and just swim through each other's bloodstreams
for a little while.

when you smile, your teeth look wet
and dripping with the liquid
i injected into you 2 summers ago at the community pool
when we lied on wicker.

snapshots of you flicker behind my eyelids
whenever candle sticks burn thin
and it's too dark to see my reflect

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by ~learningtobefree, Feb 5, 2013, 5:09:02 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

i pray that someday soon, in a lonesome winter, your bones will cease to ache.
regrets will no longer break your morals like glass figurines,
you will not ask God to pardon your sins.
you will forgive yourself.

i hope, for your sake, that your butterfly-flutter eyes
will only be dampened with tears worthy of shedding.
your glory will shine out of those 2 crystal windows
and you will finally know what freedom feels like.

one day, in the midst of a dreary december, i wish for your wings to open wide
and carry you to heights far past any you have ever experienced.
your lungs will become blooming forests
with snippets of poetry carved into the tree trunks.

you will no longer be broken, but instead, crack into miniscule pieces
of yourself until all of the grace & goodness
buried deep within the crevices of your flesh
is soaked up by the atmosphere.

i am awaiting the day that i can finally lay next to someone i call lover
and point up at the stars to show him
fragments of you scattered in their majesty
and say that is a part of me i will always remember.

starsby ~learningtobefree

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

i don't say this often about things i write, but i am in love with this.
so much was released, so much was felt.
before i was even halfway through, i was crying.
i haven't been this proud for a long, long time.

p.s. i was listening to fever dream by iron & wine

~Flummoxative Mar 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Oh god I am in love with this too. This is perfection and beauty quite unlike anything I've read on here in awhile oh goodness this is truly something to be proud of.

~learningtobefree Mar 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

you are waaaay too kind, thank you.

~hyperfluxy Mar 9, 2013 Writer

so gorgeous because this is what we are.

you've basically said it perfectly,

~learningtobefree Mar 9, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

thank you, thank you c:

~FakeTearsDryFaster Feb 24, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

awww

~arabesque-o Feb 24, 2013 Student Photographer

_{your words feel beautiful and full in my mouth,
so sometimes, i have to wisper them out loud to feel them on my tongue and hear their weight<3
amazing words.
(sorry, if that came out a little creepy).}

~learningtobefree Feb 24, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

that's not creepy at all, it's flattering.
thank you so much for all your support.

~arabesque-o Mar 6, 2013 Student Photographer

_{you're welcome c:}

~BeaLovingLife Feb 17, 2013 Hobbyist Photographer

And you write beautiful texts... Im amazed.

~learningtobefree Feb 17, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

thank you c:

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