I Tell You, I Tell You Not.
I tell you, I tell you not.
I love you, and I think you love me.
But that's how far it gets, so I put it in poetry.
I write about you sometimes.
Hide my truth within similes, metaphors, and rhymes.
Of hushed conversations in a crowded place
Memorizing each thing so I can later retrace.
You ask me how I feel when I'm with you.
Like I'm in a cellophane bubble of a soft pink hue,
La vie en Rose
A dopamine doze
You ask me what I think of you.
Words to which I wish I knew
Universe pulled a few invisible strings,
Put you in my life to change everything.
We stand inches close yet light years away.
Cliche!
We stay long enough to touch, not enough to hold
The world is unfair, or so I'm told.
So I pretend your smile doesn't put me in slumber.
Memorize lines on your hand as one would with numbers.
You ask me why I hold back. I say I'm scared.
What I hold back is what I'm scared of:
It's not being unable to find the right words for what I feel
It's being able to say the right words and never heal.
I love you, but I don't tell.
I try to show you, like casting a gentle spell.
Through metaphors and rhymes
And words that were written by dead poets sometimes.
More Posts from Whats-in-a-username and Others
Surpassing mess
Something's haunting me from within
With teeth, claws, and an evil grin.
Unlike what the movies show
Mine doesn't mess with lights and photos.
I don't live in a haunted house,
Nor do I own the dybbuk box.
So why am I troubled when I try to sleep?
Why is my sanity so hard to keep?
Do you know what's even peculiar?
It's how much all this feels familiar!
They've been living within me all this while
Things I shoved down and never reconciled.
My brain can be a surpassing mess
Make the entire horror genre seem witless.
Because I don't live in a haunted house
Nor do I own the dybbuk box
But do you hear a girl constantly weep?
Until I finally fall asleep.
recently came across The Beatrice Letters by Lemony Snicket which screams love in every possible way. So I had to make my own version of it. Dramatically speaking: An homage if I may.
The Beatrice Letters: Unsent
I will love you if this is the last time I get to tell you, and I will love you if this is the only time I get to tell you that I do. I will love you as an empress loves her emperor, and as the emperor loves his subjects, and as his subjects love their empire. I love you as a moth loves flame and as flame loves metal. I love you as a warrior loves her sword and as the sword loves to draw blood. I will wait for you as Olaf waits for summer and as a pied cuckoo waits for rain. I will love you if our forever starts today, I will love you if our forever ends today, and I will love you if we never even stood a chance.
I love you as the sun loves the sea and as the sea loves the salt. I will love you as long as it takes to separate the salt from the sea and the salt from my tears. I love you as Shakespeare loves tragedy, and as tragedy follows every hero, and as the hero slowly starts to fall in love with the villain. I will learn to say I love you in every existing language, and then I will learn to speak your love language. I will love you as the poets love the moon and as the moon loves to chase a car. I will love you when you think the world of someone else, I will love you as that world falls apart, and I will love you as my world falls apart. I will love you when my world is full of light, and I will love you from the shadows of my mind.
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."
Reblog, Reblog, Reblog , cause I love this thread!!! šš
Every single odd number has an āeā in it.
COFFEE AND POETRY
Coffee and Poetry. How similar!
If you think they're poles apart,
You'll be surprised when I start.
You consume one
while the latter consumes you
Go on, try one while you brew.
Impedes your sleep
With a word, a line, a sip, or a cup
Stops you before you can think of giving up
Dark and addictive,
Sometimes even bitter.
Yet, somehow makes you feel better.
Coffee and Poetry. How similar!
Intoxicates you while it's also a detox
A mug or paper filled with paradox.
he is half my soul.
the song of achilles by madeleine miller // work song by hozier // unsourced image // achilles come down by gang of youths // unsourced image
july 15 // incinerate
*looking at a post i made like minutes ago*
"what the fuck was i on how did i write it like that"
Malyen Oretsev in Ruin and Rising (Leigh Bardugo)
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