trembling but roaring.: heartache

Showing posts with label heartache. Show all posts

31.8.16

we won't give up on hope, on life

it's so easy to let the weight on our shoulders weigh down our hope,
to let the shadows blow out the lights in our eyes;
it's faster to fade into dark hollow islands
than to stay out in the sunshine
where the air is warm, breeze - gentle, cool -
and hands held up high together;
staying together is hard, filling lungs with air, even harder,
but i want you to know a little secret -
we're not going to give up on hope.
we won't allow that to happen -
ever;
hope will win this battle.
we just have to remain conscious to celebrate with eyes wide open
and hearts deep screaming joy.
stay with us. stay with me.
don't give up this fight.

1.8.16

august 01 / broken / ocean

like a wave that loses it's grandeur when it hits the ocean floor
so my heart was when you left it
but
like the ocean when the moon calls her name toward shoreline
and borders
so my heart surged with life, with power, on strings of chains broken

19.3.15

little bits

don't tell anyone, but i sold my soul to the wildflowers

i kissed the sharp air goodbye and my lungs filled up with sticky sunny heartachy feelings of this time last year; you are alive

maybe it's more than just mutual trust and holding hands in the dark and forehead kisses; i think, maybe, it's also spilling hearts on the wooden floor in the afternoon and a light dusting of flour on my sweater and blisters on your fingers from plucking flowers a little too hard; but, maybe i'm wrong, billions of people have spent thousands of year trying to figure out what love is, so how could i possibly know

the world is not a kind place, so please, baby girl, don't be like the world

TRYING TO STAY ALIVE

LIKE NEON SIGNS

AND TROUBLED CHILDREN

AND INDIE MUSIC FESTIVALS AND

ENGLISH MAJORS WITH

DYSLEXIA AND HIGH SCHOOL

DROPOUTS AND TXT TLK W/O

CELL (PH)FONES WHAT

EVEN IS THE

MEDIA

LIFE

ARE TALK SHOWS

LOVE

+

poems are just broken bits of flesh disguised as black print on white pages if you think about it

+

here are all of the
words
i would give
you
if your eyes weren't so
deep

26.1.15

the boy who cried thunder, the girl who cried rain

there was an adolescent boy, sitting in the corner

light fractured, glimmering on the walls

his mind was swimming in the girl's ocean

there was an adolescent girl, standing against the wall

knee-high socks, overthinking thoughts

she praised the sculptor of the boy's frame

there were two fresh souls, on opposite sides of the same room

unaware of the unbearable tsunami

crashing in their chests simultaneously

the waters rise on their own terms

there was a boy who thought too loudly

there was a girl who spoke so subtly

there was a boy and there was a girl

there were two hearts that were broken

in complimenting pieces

there were different pains felt inside that sealed

those complimenting pieces together like glue

here comes the thunder here comes the rain

here comes the love that causes incredible pain

there were scars on his arms and
there were scars on her thighs and
there were scars on their minds
there were scars on their hands and
they tried to mend each other with them

you fell on the sidewalk and broke your own heart
and all the world's words and all the world's love
couldn't put your heart back together again

there was an adolescent boy, sitting on the roof
thinking, thinking, thinking
thinking about everything [ about her ]

there was an adolescent girl, sitting on the roof
loving loving loving
loving every little thing [ about life and about him ]

there were two old souls, sitting on the roof side-by-side
and everything came crumbling down
in an array of sparks and ashes
burning bridges and words

there was a boy who understood the world too well
there was a girl who understood goodbyes too well
there was a boy and there was a girl with glass shards in their hands
there were clouds filling the sky dark and sooty

the skyline twinkled like low-flying stars
but they weren't flying low enough to latch on to

there was a boy and there was a girl
there were years that stretched before and years that stretched behind them
there was lightening flashing above them and thunder crashing around them

you fell and i fell and everyone fell
now we're drenched in salty raindrops
the ones that fell down your cheeks
now we're deaf from your screams
that leaped from your throat

there was a boy and there was a girl
who crawled quietly out of their minds
back home

28.11.14

untitled

oh
i fear a new galaxy is growing

inside of my skin

and maybe that's a beautiful thought to you

but it is terrifying

why?

have you ever birthed a supernova before?

it is not a simple task
oh

it takes strength men do not possess

it takes a new kind of brave

a new sort of simplicity

and humble bones

what if i don't own those qualities?

i don't want to tear a part a life

mine or these young stars

lightening is stretching across my skin now

white and deep

thunder in the form of fears rumbling

storms of tears pelting the floor

i think it's almost here

here comes the fire

the meteor shower

the burst

flame

11.9.14

Words that keep me up at night

I'm trying to come up with some

thing that will make you feel

like flying, but I can't locate

the right words.

Sometimes one small person will

walk into your life with that

swagger of an innocent, over

confident five year-old, and they

will teach you more about the art

of story telling than any college

professor, and they will school you

with eyes as big and bright as the sun.

III

When ever you get

the chance

to,

tell some one

they mean

the world to

you.

You looked sad that afternoon

and all I wanted

was to fix your heart.

You lied to me and said you

were fine but I

know you too well to believe

those facade of words.

You built up walls and I'm

trying to tear them

down because I see the burden

of them pulling you apart

and that kills me.

I don't want you to

explode.

Why is honesty such a pricey

necessity? Why do we have

touchy subjects? Why can't

everyone just accept that we

are all terrible people in need

of love and five-million-year-

long hugs? How can words be

so powerful they can rip hearts

to confetti pieces? Answer me.

13.8.14

Dear [ insert your name here ]

DEAR [ anyone: lost in the sea of self-hate, doubt, struggling to find worth in themselves, fighting against the dark, lost sight of life ],

FIRST, can I take a moment to say that life is ugly? I think we can all agree on that truth, right? Life is as ugly as the hell that burns below. It is a high and tormenting fire, it is overflowing with death, chaos, loved ones gushing out lies, panic, destruction, broken bones, misconceptions, lost jobs, lost loves, lost lives. Evil, lurking, everywhere you turn. Shadows keep watch behind you, in front of you, inside of you.
This is life.

NOW, can I just make another, and very important, point? Because the fact is, as messy and ugly as life can be, it is also beautiful. Plainly, simply, beautiful.

Beau·ti·ful
adjective │ Wonderful; very pleasing or satisfying; possessing qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, think about, etc.; excellent of its kind.

LIFE is beautiful. It offers us the chance to dream big dreams, to love so deeply the ocean becomes jealous, to love simply, to forgive and let go, to soar great heights, to dive haunting depths, to face fears of every size, to conquer challenges, to experience the connections of souls. Use the time you have to notice the excellence of every heartbeat and cloud and leaf and breeze and raindrop and rose and dandelion and human and soul and laugh and sob and hug and language and film and flavor and kiss and kitten and friend and color and sound. Enjoy it all, every second of it. Remind yourself that existing is beautiful. Write life is beautiful! on neon sticky notes and paste them all over your bedroom walls, desk, mirror, chair, bed frame; schedule pop-up reminders on your phone letting you know that every breath you harbor in your lungs and gracefully release into the wild blue of the invisible is beautiful and worth the pain; hike up a mountain, feel the ache in your bones, and yell at the top of your lungs this life is so worth living! because it is and every living and inanimate thing should know.

LIFE is made of light and dark. It will take you to high places, and it will knock you down, battered, bruised, with your face in the mud. You will be pounded, blow after blow after blow, blood trickling down your temple, and you will heal. You will grow stronger, taller. You will tuck this experience under the belt secured around your waist. You will encourage others, when they ask about the stories behind your scars, that you are living proof that every single person is strong enough and brave enough to fight and win the many fights they have/will face against mind/body/world.

AND, baby, you are going to need to fight for your dreams. Dream big, dream LOUD, and fight strategically, fight hard. Remember, whenever darkness hits in any form, your words stand as your sword, swing them swiftly. Remember, you have two hands, learn to wield them effectively. Your dreams are worth the fight it will take to bring them to reality. Do what you have to. If someone tears you down because of your soul-dream, cut them out of your life as soon as you can, don't apologize. You do not need to give them a reason why. If they refuse to support you, they aren't worth your energy. Find people that support you. Befriend people with the same infectious smile, and brighten up the world together. If you love someone, let them know. Let them know now. Remember that mental illness is a flaw in chemistry, not a flaw in character, this darkness will end. Do what scares you, but within reason. If you're lost, seek help. Find your Northern Star and keep on 'til the golden morning light warms your skin. Learn the difference between healthy fear and crippling anxiety. Try new things, meet new people, speak love, speak life, be the person you needed to breathe life into your suffocating heart when you were younger. Remember, your worth does not lie in words. You exist, you are living, you are loved.

Let me say that again: you are loved.

LIFE is hard.

Life sucks sometimes.

Life is ugly.

Life is messy.

Life can be hellish.

But if there is hell, there has to be heaven.

With dark, comes light.

Every torrential downpour has to end.

With rain comes sunshine comes growth come recovery.

Keep fighting, wildflower.

You will thrive.

With love.

7.4.14

sans titre

b is for bravery, which is the one thing she wants most in this word.

y is for young, which is how his soul used to feel before loving her.

g is for the grace she felt in her heart, that carried through her body dancing with him.

o is for ocean, green and deep and mesmerizing, which is how he would describe her eyes.

t is for transfixed, which is how she felt looking at him.

s is for synchronized, the way his breaths and hers went in and out together, as one.

ii.
the sky was crying earlier and i thought of
all of the days we spent
playing in the rain together.
splish splash splish,
jumping from puddle to muddy puddle,
the laughter and joyful squeals of two
little friends harmonizing with the songs
of the birds in
the trees and then, oh look, we grew up.
zap, you were gone from my life, playing
with new friends and i cried like the
sky, missing our childish song. but
hey, i moved on, just like the stormy
clouds and it is alright.
growing up is the middle of a storm
and the people that surround us are clouds
that move on.

iii.
green
are
the
trees now.
blue
are
your
eyes deep.
orange
is
the
sun setting.
transparent
is
my
heart beating.

poetry over prose is how i have been thinking lately. walls have kept me from writing my thoughts and it has been killing me, but the words are coming, slowly but surely, they are flowing.

11.2.14

monotone / melancholy

the sky is grey today.
from my position sitting on my favorite old wooden chair, in front of my old desk covered in paint and words and paper and memory cards on the side of my room directly across from my bedroom door, all i can see out my bedroom window are the naked tree branches stretching their cold fingers to the heaven desperate for life, and it is honestly kind of depressing. oh, and power lines; i can see those from here, too.
tenth avenue north is playing over and over in the background and every now and then i'll sing a note or two along with them, because my lungs need to get some feelings out but they can't just say it, don't know why. i'm also trying really hard to write a letter that is so long overdue, among other things.
i have a little carousel music-snow-globe thingy that belonged to my mum when she was younger on my table and it keeps letting off high pitched notes randomly without me touching it. eerie.
life feels just like how the sky looks today.
every time i move to a different position my chair wobbles a little bit; a fairly accurate picture of my emotions right now: adjust your heart? oops, almost lost it there. hey, hang in there, sweetie pie. yeah, no, your ideas are sure failures, don't say anything. keep quiet. you're brilliant. you're dumb. life is wonderful. life is too hard. it's okay. nothing is okay. focusing on the positive voice has been an all new level of difficult.
this is life? life is messy? that's such a cliche saying. but life is cliche sometimes. i don't know, i could really go for some pizza and dark chocolate and new places and faces and summer and seventeen and five and a phone call and stupid memes to make me laugh and coffee and the ability to paint and to preach my heart and anything but now. //