#my poems Tumblr posts

  • Let me rest
    in our bubble
    and allow no trouble

    A bubble is lifting
    me and you
    their stress and their rage
    now, we don’t really care

    The bubble might be weird
    like you and me
    but it’s home, you see
    it’s all I really need

    The bubble bursts
    so the question is
    did I cut my nails before?
    I hear voices howl yet
    a bubble is something to fight for

    Our bubble is not made of soap
    thin, making your eyes red
    it is magic-enhanced glass
    it breaks not at none of my blows
    thickened with loving use,
    like kintsugi cups

    can I go to the bubble with you again?
    can I never leave the place?

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  • A poem

    how simple a torture, the skin of her.

    i understand why persephone chose the pomegranate.

    doesn’t my girl have a blush that just sets the world on fire?

    i want to eat her on the church steps and when they say

    i am praying for you

    i will say

    do not worry. i have already taken holy into my mouth

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  • A poem

    today my body ached because that’s what bodies do sometimes. because it is my body and things that are mine often find their way to pain like magnets to the poles. i wish i could leave myself alone, that i could feel like i’ve punished myself enough. i’m reluctant to let go of the sense of being i get from hurting myself. when i am in pain, i am alive; when i suffer, i exist. i find nurture in my newly discovered masochism.

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  • i don’t have words

    to describe how beautiful you are

    and i cannot comprehend why

    with so much harshness,

    you awfully judge yourself.

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  • Guys. Guys I can’t. I write romantic poetry for people now. I’m fulfilling my dream of being a bard.

    This was a commission for the amazing @zannakai​ and I had so much fun writing it. (the handwritten version is theirs, they said I could post a picture so I did because it’s very cool)


    Star light, star bright
    I search the sky, looking for meanings in the glittering specks
    Some form of order and reason to this world
    Something to stay with me through the night
    first star I see tonight
    One point of light then another and another and another
    Stretching across the night sky
    Forming a picture only I can see
    Wish I may, wish I might
    I trace them with my finger
    Connecting the dots with an invisible line
    Bringing the lights together
    Have the wish I wish tonight
    A stem and a petal and a petal and a petal
    folding together into the center
    Forming the perfect image of a rose in the sky

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  • A life on repeat

    That’s all it is

    Nothing unique

    In this overrated bliss

    What we wish to find

    We dont know

    Caught up in a bind

    We seek the unknown

    Always on a lookout

    For something new

    A mind full of desire

    Our time is due

    Some people we are

    Not as noble as we say

    With falsehood and no integrity

    Look at us today

    - Gru

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  • There are days that taste like you
    to your eyes, your hair, your sun …
    There are days that break waves in the chest
    and they rip apart the heart …
    There are days that travel alone spend once and never forget …
    There are days where the luggage
    it gets heavy and others are glory …
    There are days when I navigate your body
    and days that I don’t leave this port…

    And it is true that life was born to love it,
    that the sadnesses that nest inside are clouds
    cotton that won’t let you see birds in the sky …
    And it is true that death is born in life
    and the awakening of life is the most precious gift …
    That without you there is no sea,
    that without you there is no poetry …
    And it’s true that walking I tripped a hundred times
    and a hundred times with my hands I got up
    and with the same illusion grab a new train
    that would make me outline a new dawn.

    There are days that smell like fresh grass
    to eternal gardens … to beautiful laughter …
    There are days that have no night
    and nights that have no days …
    There are days that are celebrated … others are remembered …
    There are days that are written … others are sung …
    And others … where the soul is carried away like autumn leaves …
    But it is also true that the tears that flow
    and they are tied to time
    The being within you withers …
    It is true that there are days that are an end and others …

    A start…


    Hay días que saben a ti
    a tus ojos, a tu pelo, a tu sol…
    Hay dÍas que rompen olas
    en el pecho y hacen trizas el corazón…
    Hay días que viajan solos
    pasan una vez y nunca se olvidan…
    Hay días donde el equipaje
    se hace pesado y otros son gloria…
    Hay días en los que navego en tu cuerpo
    y días que no salgo de este puerto…


    Y es cierto que la vida nació para amarla
    que las tristezas que anidan dentro
    son nubes que no te dejan ver pájaros en el cielo…
    Y es cierto que la muerte nace en la vida
    y el despertar de la vida es el más preciado regalo
    que sin ti no hay mar, que sin ti no hay poesía…
    Y es verdad que caminando tropecé cien veces
    y cien veces con las manos me levanté
    y con la misma ilusión agarré un nuevo tren
    que me hiciera perfilar un nuevo amanecer…


    Hay días que huelen a hierba fresca
    a eternos jardines… a hermosas risas…
    Hay días que no tienen noche
    y noches que no tienen días…
    Hay días que se celebran… otros se recuerdan…
    Hay días que se escriben… otros se cantan…
    Y otros… donde el alma se deja llevar como hojas de otoño…
    Pero es cierto también que las lágrimas que brotan
    y se atan al tiempo marchitan el ser que llevas dentro…
    Es cierto que hay días que son un final y otros… 

    Un comienzo


    Mo Anam Cara

    Derechos reservados

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  • Phoenixes rise from the ashes
    But I am merely burning

    My lungs fill with smoke and I scream as the fire surrounds me
    Everything is bright hot hot pain pain pain as my skin blackens and crumples to ash
    This is it. This is the end.
    I do not know how long I lay there, but finally, I feel a spark
    A little flame of hope
    It burns, but I hold it close and nourish it
    And then I am born anew
    Phoenixes always rise
    But they must fall first
    And it may take time to rise again
    But they will do so
    Phoenixes rise from the ashes
    But first they must burn

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  • I fear

    In this uncertain present I can’t help but quiver

    I yearn for bright eyes

    And crooked smiles

    And skillful fingers

    And deep voices

    And terrible dance moves

    And day-dreaming mumbles

    All of those who lay beyond mountains

    too high for me to climb

    And deep oceans

    too vast for me to swim across

    To reach their arms and hold them tight in mine

    I fear

    For once not due to my volatile and careless nature

    But for the odds standing between us

    The never ending nightmare of complications

    The strict procedures and impossible standards,

    The millions plus two requirements and the endless waiting

    While the world seems to crumble and it turns

    Just a little harder to stay alive

    (Ironically only after I’ve decided to live on,

    forever, if I just could)

    I fear

    Because I’ve dreamed of all my loves

    Of the day their existence becomes reality

    Before my very eyes and not through blocks

    And blocks

    And blocks

    Of text, enough for us to build a castle

    Made up of every promise and hope and wish

    And I fear

    I fear for their safety

    I fear they’ll forget me

    I fear I’ll lose them before I can even have them

    I fear I’ll forget them

    I fear for the people I hold closest to my heart

    May never be at the reach of my fingertips

    I can only hope my longing doesn’t outlive me

    And maybe it gets easier

    Even if the future doesn’t seem kind on painting a prettier picture

    #my poems #i love all of my world wide friends and I'm genuinely terrified I'll never get to meet them
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  • There is something about being someone’s reason for disappointment and questioning of humanity that excites me

    It’s a bit of hope for my soul

    A reassurance that there is powerful energy within me

    Maybe i was never meant to move mountains

    Maybe i was meant to destroy them

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  • Watch out and hide

    There was a time

    when I was afraid

    I was a child

    and they had a blade

    There was a time

    I wanted them gone

    I tried to escape

    but they were not done

    There was a time

    they whispered so creepy

    I tried not to listen

    but their words cut deeply

    There was a time

    they all disappeared

    I thought it was good

    but it was actually weird

    There was a time

    I wanted them back

    I missed their ideas

    I missed all the black

    There was a time

    when I realized

    they were my friends

    in darkness disguised

    There came a time

    when we became one

    Me and my demons

    so watch out and hide…

    Teodora Ivanova

    #poem#poems #poem of tumblr #poems of tumblr #my poem #poem by me #poemsbyme#my poems#poetry #poetry of tumblr #poetry of mine #my poetry#poetic#inner demons
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  • I shut myself
    Because it all hurted
    too much
    did I make it ache?
    I have no clue yet

    I felt us die
    so I grabbed the knife
    Before it harms me
    I’ll harm it myself

    So many thoughts that poison
    and I can’t turn them off
    they promise to save me from this
    but all they do is making me bleed
    always the same with fucking saviors

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  • there’s something missing
    a warm pressure in my arms, a comforting feeling that you are there
    a head resting against mine, the feeling of arms tightening around me
    if I close my eyes and think hard enough, maybe it will be real
    for a moment, I can smell your shampoo and feel the soft fabric of your shirt
    hear your soft breathing in, out, in, out, in, out
    the serenity that comes from being next to another human
    the warmth of your skin against mine and the love blooming in my heart
    but then I open my eyes
    the pressure is but the weighted blanket pressing around me
    the thing in my arms is made of cotton and acrylic, not flesh and blood
    and I am still alone, so alone
    but then I roll over
    I pick up my phone and scroll through every message
    laughter and love and joy spread from afar
    I can feel your presence through the screen as I lay down to sleep again
    holding tight to the stuffed animal you gave me
    I begin to hope that I will hold you in my arms once more

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  • How to Get Shot in the Heart at Work

    Being queer at work is exhausting.

    You not only have to let the customers words slide past you like oil,

    you have to dodge the constant bullets of homophobia,

    under the guise of jokes,

    aimed at your heart.

    Your coworkers don’t know that their words are bullets,

    or that they are aimed at you.

    It is not a direct attack,

    But you get shot sometimes.

    You get quiet

    Preparing for the pain.

    You are silent in a room filled with laughter.

    The bullet tears through your skin,

    And fat,

    And muscle,

    Until it reaches your heart.

    Your heart gains another hole where your pride used to be.

    Your wanting to come out lessens with every round.

    Your hope for acceptance gets shot down.

    The idea that you could ever be casually queer at work is bleeding out of you.

    But you carry on,

    Waiting for the next shot.

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  • saw a flower

    and thought of you

    even the garden knows

    im in love with you

    there is something

    in the dark side of the moon

    that keeps me going

    and feel less blue

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  • She had worked herself up, applying to jobs everyday like a mad woman, from 9-5pm. After quitting her job. Then she would watch tv or youtube until it was night. For months on end she did this. Until her therapist asked, what do you do for fun? After getting a job as a receptionist, which she walked out on, she quit looking for a job. Months passed and passed without really her knowing that they were passing. They didn’t seem like months. Just eternal weeks. She thought she had done these things weeks ago. Three months ago she would say to you. But the truth was, it was now verging on nine months since she’d quit her job in March. What a disgrace she thought. Quitting her job while others were fired or laid off, or looking for a job. She thought she was a horrible person, that she’d committed a sin. Now she had different responsibilities, looking for work was no longer what she did. She took care of her sister instead, while her mother work. She was dying of boredom. She couldn’t go outside because her sister wasn’t able to, and even if she was, what would she do with a severely disabled child. What would she do when she started babbling and saying nonsense and pointing to food and places she wanted to go? She stayed inside, she felt she had no choice. And so began the dreadful days of sleeping all day to take up time. So began the days of looking for hobbies to fill up the time. Knitting, drawing, writing, filling up her blog. So began those days where she had to have hobbies. Where she had nothing to do but all the time in the world, all the time to be stuck at home, doing absolutely nothing. How were other people faring? Surely they were suffering too. It wasn’t easy. But what she dealt with frequently, depression, anxiety, bpd, ptsd, she wasn’t aware of that until she wrote it down. Surely other people were suffering too. So she wrote this story and it made her feel better.

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