A SOULWRITER'S PAGE
A list of poems about self-love,
or rather, the shameless truth of a human.
Pheonix
There’s peace when I think about your
storminess.
I’m sitting cross legged in the eye of the tornado that you are.
My eyes sparkle with fascination,
temptation rises.
Temptation to reach into your winds and...
I didn’t feel the urge
to write about you.
That’s how I know,
you never
really
touched me.
Tear up the veil
It’s the rejection of the idea in my head
The idea of what my life with you could or better should (hush)
look like,
That’s what hurts right now.
That’s the knot in my rib cage.
That’s what makes me want to puke.
Instead, what I received from you was acceptance of who I am,
acceptance of where I am,
a possibility to explore more,
of me,
who that is,
who you are.
Explore where
we,
this,
it,
Wanting you is ok,
as long
as it means,
I want me first.
The heart wants to know
Is he the one?
Is what my heart wants to know today.
The one what?
My mind replies.
The one who brings you closer to yourself?
Everyone can be,
If you let them.
That’s not what I mean, H says.
The mind: what do you mean then?
Is he the one who will make you jump
and blossom
and sparkle
and surrender to infinity?
The mind exhales in gentle agony and states,
you mean,
is he the one to make you blind?
Sitting outside with my bed socks in the sun,
a cup of tea on
the windowsill next to
a dead leaf.
It’s December.
And I just thought:
There are many I love you‘s in my future that I still get to hear.
​
She smiled,
from the inside this time.
Let pain be your bible
Another it’s over
Hurls from her gut to her throat but gets stuck at the heart
But it’s the
this will make me breathe lighter - kind
Once the silent pain turns into cries
To keep the owls company
Then it will get easy
She hopes
Hope is a load of horse shit
It let’s you cling
Hope is not now
Now is now
And now
Pt1. Alone,
and scars to prove it
Why can’t you be alone?
A stranger’s comment flung at my face.
Of course I can, fuck off.
I,
I have built my life, alone.
Pushed through pain, alone.
The very reason I am who I am,
is because I became her, alone.
I was taught that the only one who would always be there was me.
I taught myself, maybe.
I latched on to me,
to me,
and...
Pt. 2 Never alone
Pt. 2 press play
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a train window as we rush through a tunnel.
The woman looking back at me is glowing.
No matter that half her face is covered in a surgical mask,
remains of a world in turmoil.
Her eyes beam.
Her presence shines.
Her peace radiates.
The silent longing for a text makes me tap my phone.
There’s no pending replies,
just a reminder that I’m alone.
But,
What if,
I’m gonna let life
come to me,
just like the sun rays to my face?
Kill off Cinderella
I met a man once.
He was everything,
everything I was supposed to want.
He,
brought coffee to bed in the morning,
gave massages before I went to sleep,
drew me a bath after a cold winter walk,
held up coats and opened doors,
was thoughtful and listened.
Wanted a life with me.
Wanted me in his life.
All of me,
all of me, it seemed.
Me
and a sparkly karat on the third finger of my left hand...
When you love an artist
and she lets you
see her soul,
​
be sure,
you will become her art.
Proof,
...that there's a place, from deep within, where ancient wisdom rules, from where we don't know how we know but we do, and nothing has ever made more sense. That's the place from which I write.