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“You must allow yourself to outgrow and depart from certain eras of your life with a gentle sort of ruthlessness.”
— Katy Maxwell
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Photo
Moonlight landscape - Oscar Sivertzen , 1909.
Norwegian, 1876-1940
Oil on canvas , 45 x 47 cm.
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Note
I adore your writing <3
🥹 Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that! Also I don’t know how Tumblr works so I’m not sure how I just posted this response on my page but oh well 🤷♀️
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Phoenix
Be gentle
To the ones around you
Maybe they feel what I feel right now
Like someone has died
Even though you and I are still living
Upon seeing you
I realised my version of you is dead
And I wish I was a Phoenix
So I could burn this skin
And rise from the ashes anew
To join you, to right the mistakes I’ve made
But there are no quick fixes
I made a decision eight months ago
And now I’m lying in the bed I made
So unfortunate it is a California King
(That was a bad Rihanna reference)
I feel like I’ve gained nothing
And lost so much
I lost an opportunity to live something important
I lost the connections I never made
I lost a version of myself that understands what matters
But most important of all, I lost you
And if I could somehow still make this work
All the mistakes would be worth it
We were never going to be unless I matured
But it’s the other way around
You’ve grown, and I have not
I had the opportunity but didn’t take it
I didn’t know what was good for me
I’m stuck in this awful dread
For once I wish I could stop feeling, like you do
How do you just shove your emotions aside?
Please teach me, switch places
You can watch the sun and I can work
Cup the ashes into the palms of my hands
Make something of myself
That I will not resent
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I am no poet, but when I hurt, I find outlet in tears and words. I was out of the former today. If you’re staying, please be prepared to embrace the bad poetry.
I’m tired of bathroom floors
I’m so tired of the bathroom floors
The bathroom stalls
The stickers on the doors
I’ve sat in front of them for so long,
I should remember what they said;
But I don’t know, they were all blurry and
I was too focused on counting my breaths,
Hold it down, behave,
and then a new wave
Rumbling
Six bathrooms. Take a deep breath for each one.
One - Why am I not good enough
Two - Why didn’t you at least smile
Three - Why does it hurt so much
Four - What do I want from you
Five - Why do I have to lose you over and over again
Six - Why have you abandoned me
(You’ve grown but I haven’t)
In the mirror recognising a version of myself,
deriving strange pleasure from observing my changed form,
Eyes squeezed tight,
skin bulging, peeled red grapes,
a grimace for a face,
In the moment I am the wave,
Flooding the bathroom floors
The stalls, drowning the stickers on the doors.
Why is there always a new way it can hurt?
A bad poem offers no relief,
no replacement.
But I tried.
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