inthepoemsandthesands

Latest Posts by inthepoemsandthesands

SESTINA FOR A HEALED WOUND

I hope with time you can breathe easier within yourself and all that hurt your heart that did not deserve to touch it will fade as your soul heals while all those tears you cried become flowers that bloom to sweeten your path and that a time to smile will come as you let yourself turn toward the abundant warmth of light and open to the beautiful kiss of life -J.Wool, Kiss of Life

you want them to text back but that's anxious attachment isn't it. it's just that you can feel on the wind when you're not wanted anymore. when they've fallen out of love in any small part of their marrow. you have a hawk's eye for disharmony. you can tell when she has begun packing her things.

don't be annoying. you want to write: i have never experienced unconditional love as an explanation but isn't that pathetic. in adulthood all love is conditional and it should be. you've been to too much therapy. touch grass. how sappy can you be.

but they don't reach for your hand while they're driving. they forget to ask you how you're doing. the call times no longer read 12:34:19. they're 30 minutes and perfunctory before she says baby please, i'm tired. i need to go to sleep. where in her life do you fit. why is it that you never fit into anyone's life very long. oblong creature with so many needs, spilling up and out and over everything. it's a fucking shame the first time she said she loved you it was for your independence. and now look at you.

hollow pit in your stomach, body shaking. fuck, not again. you're not going to ruin another relationship like this, codependent and toxic, spiraling. and in the other half of your brain: if that's your wife, wouldn't she want to hear it? wouldn't it be fine? wouldn't she just comfort you and you can both move on and nobody dies?

but you're crowding her! read another instagram Positive Vibes Only type of post that talks about calming your heart and your brain and your body. try to sit in silence. the thing is that you do have a life outside of her, remember? go back to it.

great news, your parents fucked you up and now you have no idea how to deal with love. you just keep wanting to be chosen. to be real to someone, all the way through. real and kept. held closely. seen as precious to somebody. why even is that? didn't you always swear that people can and should complete themselves? why are you so constantly driven to beg for love, doglike and barking?

it's just the tiny things. it's just that you have to weigh every silence and sentence like bricks on an exposed belly. you have no idea how to shut it off. every alarm bell in your body saying: this isn't safe. start scrambling. she's already going.

scissors

shaking hands

fallen hair

three inches, five, seven

i look in the mirror

a person looks back

not her

me

''what if my writing isn't good eno--'' what if it's a reflection of your soul. what if it has a place in this world. what if you write it anyway

perhaps nothing else on earth matters, besides the love you take in, and the love you put out.

I shed my skin not just for the change, but so I can breathe again. I needed to escape, to feel good in my own skin again, even if that meant upsetting others to do it.

time wasnt right

there is dust

in my childhood bedroom

cobwebs span the corners

reaching out

to touch

the abandoned walls

everything is covered in dust

my books

my floor

my collections, long since abandoned

touch anything and you'll

come away

with gray residue

reminiscent of a life once lived

only

i am still here

living

right?

or am i, too

covered in dust

a relic

of a former girl

this isnt how life is supposed to be

At times

I am ashamed

Of how messy I am

Of how broken I am

Of how much I need

And want

And scream

Into voids of people

That don’t seem to care

And despite increasing

Self-awareness

I appear unable to stop

This pattern

Of continuous unraveling

Of traveling a hundred

Different roads

Desperately

And aimlessly

All to wind up at

The same dead end

At this point, I can no longer deny that the only common thread Is me

i find

home

in the

silence.

"solace."

d.b.a

the emphasis of nothing.

how to smile

throttle all the sobs

the knots

the not-enoughs

the crumbs, the problems

caught up in the loss

and thoughts which cross along the bottom

rotten crops to harvest noxious garbarge

starving out, atrocity and doubt, unpardoned

tout the heartless harbingers, unfound

a botched rebounding

all the rot and rubble, huddled up around

the floundered flotsam, drowning

struggle-bussing, cuddle-lust resounding

subtle sinking, drowning

down and out, i doubt the

pound-for-pound

surrounded, shouting, drinking in

the blinking end of all i've found

“I think one of my favorite feelings is laughing with someone and realizing half way through how much you enjoy their existence.”

— Unknown

i wld peel my heart like an orange for u if only u wanted it !

Y'all have gotta get more insane about platonic relationships like you are about romantic relationships. We need to get more annoying about them NOW. I need to see more meta and losing our minds over them. Get more annoying NOW. More than that. More than that also.

with every inch of you a miracle, their palates growing weary of wine, this grace from which you've fallen, that grave from which you climb,

with every mile of you like magic, stretched, a black ribbon round me,

a hare in your hat,

the curtain drawn - you saw me in half

and every half of me a creature, atlas-shoulered brittle, butterfly wings

flapping,

a sea of typhoon winds at my command

leaving

what if when i leave

i hate it

or they hate me

and im homesick every day

and all i want is to be back

but

what if

i love it there

and i dont want to come home

and its the time of my life

it is so much harder to go

when i am searching for

every

reason

to

stay

Nectar

wasted hours chasing childhood dreams

my teen ambition devouring me whole

all the pointless tears, the pointless delusions

maybe I’m not special

perhaps my personality is disordered

that’s what they say anyway

words may never truly express

the gratitude i feel

to have travelled to

the depths of despair.

after all,

it brought me you.

the combination of unlikely events

flutter in effect, endlessly changing

the possibility of what could be.

even then, i'm still content.

it brought me you.

isn't that enough, then?

tribulations and uncertainties:

i shed my past "self"

in the aftermath.

it was all worth it,

because

"it brought me you."

d.b.a

for s.

Dreams to Unfold

hope, he wrote

not a whole poem

but a note in bold

daily diary reminder to his soul

just a simple idea

that words matter

when fighting fear

so he chose, hope

in this pivotal year

when what we hold

is dearer than dear

all we will ever know

that the seeds we sow

grow an intimate garden

flower petals painted gold

dreams waiting to unfold

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

©️ @followcb ☆ April 28, 2024

I’ll open a window

to spin a thread

across the sky

to drag myself

across

an ocean of clouds,

to take me to where I belong.

Where the sea meets my toes

and the blue waters edge

is bright as her eyes.

Where we can walk

hand in hand,

as the sun rises over

the perpetual sands,

not another soul in sight,

where we are free.

Hey. Hey you. The person aimlessly scrolling, stuck in an immobilized standoff with your brain

It's not your fault. You won't be stuck forever. I know you're trying. I know you hate it. It's ok.

And tell the Mean Voice in your head that it's not helping. It knows as well as you do that you would get up and Just Start the task if you could. You're not doing this on purpose.

Take a deep breath. Relax your jaw. I see you trying so hard to break out of it, but you can't force it. You'll get Unstuck eventually. All you can do in the interim is be kind to yourself.

“We don’t have to understand nature to appreciate it. This is true of all things. Simply be aware of moments when your breath gets taken away by something of great beauty.”

— Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being (Penguin Press, January 17, 2023)  (via A Layman’s Blog)

you dont need me

i know this

you could not possibly

make it more obvious

still i try to be useful

something wanted, maybe

i would be okay being just a tool

a weapon for you to weild

because at least tools

at least weapons are held

bitter without the sweet

you are the aftertaste of what

could've been a sweet memory,

and i think i’m the only one who 

still savors every sweet moment 

despite the acrid words you left me with.

~K.T.

People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me

the idealized version of my tomorrow self will fix this

One day I will stop falling in love with you. Until I do, I'll be thinking of you.

k.b. // laufey, philharmonia orchestra - let you break my heart again

tsunami

what is a crush?

it is searching for your initial on those

"interact to claim" posts

it is thinking of your name

every time someone mentions a crush

it is looking at you

just to look

i cant help it that you're pretty

it is making you laugh and then

saying more things to make you laugh more

amid the ache in my stomach knowing

you dont feel the same way

it is promising myself

that i wouldnt write poetry about you

but here i am

with a poem

it is the ocean going out

so slowly that you dont realize

until you are standing

and a wave looms large

and you cannot help

but be swallowed

by the sea

Maturity is not seeking revenge. It's healing and moving on, so you don’t become like the people who traumatized you.