Thoughts From The Ledge

july 15 // incinerate

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Never felt more seen.

"Dark academic?" More like "someone please help me holy shit I can't continue living like this and the only thing keeping me from falling off my rocker is literature."

💫🧡

“Whatever causes night in your soul may leave stars.”

— Victor Hugo

Happy Ides of March !!!!

The kind of love...

I've never felt love like yours

The kind that

heals my inner child who made wrong choices in love and,

overpowers my insecurities with constant reassurance.

When you hold my ragged heart in your hands,

salving what's left of it,

I know it has never seen a safer place.

I've never felt the love I've for you

The kind that

wants you to be happy more than wanting you to be mine and,

has me wishing something for you on every fallen eyelash.

When I sit to pray and ask for your happiness along with others,

instead of our future,

I know the love I've for you is beyond just us.

I've never been in love like ours

The kind that

is better than the ones in movies and,

no amount of lyrics can contain.

When we feel the world stop when our foreheads touch and,

time slow when your lips meet mine.

I know I'm learning what love is.

#story #writers #writersofinstagram #writerscommunity #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #poem #words #write #love

My Body: A Crime Scene

I was told the body is a temple. I was taught to treat my body like a temple. Sacred, Holy, somewhere God resides, somewhere a person can be at peace. But with time, the sacrality has begun to fade. It has become a realm of my internal demons, something sinister.

My body is now more of a crime scene than a temple.

I've put up barricade tapes around me. Of bright "when life gives you lemon" yellow and black. A cautionary measure for the lighthearted.

Some understand and stay away.

Others push right through like the case now belongs to them.

They say they've seen this before.

They say no amount of gore can keep them away.

They say they'll take care of it.

Only to realize it's bloodier than they could've imagined.

Multiple fingerprints, Multiple footprints: An evidence marker placed for every person I let walk all over me, and for every person, I gave my heart only for them to poke my wounds.

Blood: Numerous splatters, but all mine.

Weapons: Some sticks and stones, knives that I willingly handed over hoping they'd protect me, now covered in my blood and, a pen.

Many witnesses: Either dumb or hostile.

Signs of arson: Ashes of everything I burnt down. Pictures, letters, broken promises, false hopes, unfulfilled dreams.

And now, all that's left of me is a chalk outline. Everything else faded, picked apart or withered away.

My body is not a temple anymore. It isn't sacred or pure.

It's not a place I can stand barefoot.

It's now a place where I need a hazmat suit and gloves.

“Words were different when they lived inside of you.”

— Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (via razreads)

For a second or two

Sometimes I fall in love with strangers,

For a second or two or some more.

Not for the thrill or dangers,

For the kindness, simplicity, and whatnots.

That someone on a park bench

Petting a random dog,

And then someone by the swing

Helping a kid back to her feet.

That someone at the next table

Smiling genuinely at the waiter,

And then someone at the handwash

Holding the door for an old woman.

I fall in love with strangers,

A second for how they look,

Two for their generous smile,

And some more for the random act of kindness.

The universe conspires you around such strangers

At that particular point in time out of all.

Because kindness conjures love.

Even if it's from a stranger.

A stranger,

Who will stop what they're doing

To fall in love with you.

For a second or two or some more.