Mittwoch, 28. Januar 2015

Don't remember that Day

I don’t think I actually remember this day. I don’t think the scene in my head is real— it must instead be the retelling of the story that I have memorized and rehearsed— that my mind has filled in the gaps. And yet, it would explain why, years later, I can feel the phantom hurt inside.
44 x

Samstag, 17. Januar 2015

Supposed to Be

I spend most of my time wondering if I should be somewhere else. So I have learned to shape the words thank you with my first breath each morning, my last breath every night. When the last breath comes, at least I will know I was thankful for all the places I was so sure I was not supposed to be. All those places I made it to, all the loves I held, all the words I wrote. And even if it is just for one moment, I will be exactly where I am supposed to be.
154 x

Dienstag, 16. Dezember 2014

I will

I will wake you up early.
I will leave pennies in your pockets, postage stamps of monuments in between the pages of your books.
I will Google map you home. I will talk through movies. Even ones I have never seen before.
I will love you with too many commas, but never any asterisks.
There will be more sweat than you are used to. More skin. More words than are necessary.
My hair in the shower drain, my smell on your sweaters.
I will make the best food you’ve tasted.
I can’t do a pull-up. But I’m great at excuses. I count broken umbrellas after every storm, and I fall asleep repeating the words thank you. I will wake you up early with my heavy heartbeat. You will say, can’t we just sleep in, and I will say, No, trust me. You don’t want to miss a thing.
224 x

Montag, 15. Dezember 2014

heart broken

Heart broken, a feeling I never understood until now. It is a constant pain and discomfort. It is a sickness in my stomach and a knot in my throat. It is when eating becomes a battle to swallow and falling asleep becomes inconceivable. It is unrequited love. The loss of you! It feels like I lost apart of who I am. I am fighting with myself, trying to convince myself that I am fine.

It is a constant swing of emotions. Some moments are better than others. Sometimes I think it is over, but then, just as suddenly I am overwhelmed with a paralyzing pain that forces me to hold still.
I think of you. Imagining how happy you are, while I barely hang on.

At times my thoughts turn to anger. Real Anger. I have never been angry like this before. Anger is what blocks out the sadness, and hate rises.
Hate is the escape from the sadness that I am overwhelmed by.
Unfortunately, the hate is only temporary.

It eats away my emotions until there is nothing left, and I am back where I started. Thinking about you, and how deeply I love you. Now I am left to cry, either on the inside or out, and making promises to myself that I will never let this happen again.

Until I see you again and then love hits me like a fist in the heart and I am heart broken again.
241 x

Mittwoch, 10. Dezember 2014


Sometimes, I think of how I would kiss you. I would keep my eyes open. I know it’s impolite. I started when I was sixteen, the first boy— the one who tasted like tooth paste — he kissed me as though I was an ocean that needed more water. I was afraid he would look at me, afraid that if he opened his eyes, I would turn into stone, so I peeked to make sure he didn’t. First one eye and then the other, our mouths a tightrope, my eyes a set of cheeky clowns trying not to fall.

Now, it is less about fear and more about curiosity. Today, I would look in your eyes, see you — the one who makes my heart flutter— maybe you would have your eyes wide open too. Gosh, I would be embarrassed, and furious! Nobody opens their eyes when they kiss! How dare would you look at me! But if you would, I pull away from you, and you would smile. Because you would not kiss me like an ocean. Your eyes would not turn me to stone.
198 x

Montag, 8. Dezember 2014

My Scale

There are a few heartaches that ice cream cannot fix but that is what we have tears for they will wash everything away. There are days when I open my hands to help and end up with bruises; days when I try to fly and the people I want to save are the ones standing on my cape; there are days when I get in trouble for telling the truth. But these are the days when I have even more reason to say I love. Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it is sent away.

I know that on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am to damn naive. But I want you to know that this life is made out of sugar. It crumbles easily, but do not be afraid to taste it again because it will still taste sweet. I am a worrier and a warrior, but I am also the girl with small hands and big eyes who will never stop asking for more. I will always apologize when I have done wrong, but I will never apologize for the way my heart refuses to stop loving. And when I get another heartache, and you slip war and hate under my door and offer me only handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, I will tell you again how much I love you.
157 x

Montag, 29. September 2014

if I was

You see, I am going to be honest,
I am not a love poet
but if I would wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I wanted to write about love
My poems would be about you
About how I love you the same way I learned how to ride a bike
Scared but reckless with no training wheels or knee pads
So my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you
I am not a love poet
But if I was, I would write about how I see your face in every cloudy reflection,
in every window
I have written poems hoping that somehow, maybe some way, you will jump out of the page and be close to me because if you were here, right now, I would massage your back until your skin sings songs that your lips do not even know the words to
Until your heartbeat sounds like my name and you smile is as bright as the stars,
If I was a love poet
I would write about how you have the audacity to be so handsome even on days when everything around you is ugly
I would write about your eyes and how they are like music that play symphonies every time you looked at me
If I was a love poet
I would write about how I melted in front of you like an ice sculpture
every time I heard your voice
And whenever my phone rings and I see no caller ID, I am hoping to hear your voice
I am not a love poet
but if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love, then my first poem, I swear would be about, about you…
281 x

last post

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Supposed to Be
I spend most of my time wondering if I should be somewhere...
anna25bell - 17. Jan, 22:15
I will
I will wake you up early. I will leave pennies in your...
anna25bell - 16. Dez, 17:18





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