Here's all of my love poetry! Except I have intense attachment issues, so, yknow! Some of it comes of as/is actively obessive! Oops! I have bipolar and cptsd! I recognize it tho, lolz!
Ananke
Absentmindedly,
the goddess put two strings in her pocket.
not quite on purpose-
simply had to put them somewhere.
and then she ran.
and she ran, and she walked.
and she worked on her tapestry, infinite and sprawling.
she talked.
she spoke stories of fellow myths,
of birds of prey and of the ocean,
weaving and writing the truth.
she moved.
she couldn’t stay in one spot long,
too quickly betrayed,
her stay too quickly over stayed.
when she remembered the string, it had been years later.
both strands were stronger. thicker.
they had seen her tapestry,
constantly unfinished.
they had heard her stories,
of birds of prey and the ocean.
they had felt her abandonment,
her need to keep moving.
and they had knotted,
tighter than any yarn she had sewn.
so she added the pieces of string to her tapestry,
now nearly unrecognizable as having once been separate,
and she walked.
and told stories of birds of prey and the ocean.
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Cut
the string connects us from beginning to end
looping, knotting, stretching
i tell you that i want to be intertwined with you
that i already am, intertwined with you
unintentional and unnoticed
like old necklaces in a jewelry box
like old friends that never truly left
like old tales interweaved over centuries
i tell you to notice the knot we are connected by
how we’d become stronger as thread if we simply twisted
simply embraced the bond put down by the gods
you tell me i’m too intense
and you’re right.
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derivative orange poem
steal all of my food,
eat all you want
i will peel all the oranges
and give you every slice
if it means you stay around
me just a little bit longer
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dream
in that dream, i do not call you.
I go quietly. I do not think about you.
I do not think about the domino effect.
I do not think about your own life ending.
I think about me. Only me.
and in that dream, i am quiet.
i am easy.
i am simple.
and i am gone.
in that dream, you are not keeping me aloft.
in that dream, i am gone without missing you.
please pick up the phone.
this is not a dream.
you are keeping me aloft.
i do not want to see the domino effect.
i do not want you to take your life.
i am loud. and you like that.
please call me.
I miss you.
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Istus
take the end of this thread and tie it around my heart.
you must do this-
you were always better at knots.
follow the thread back and find yourself.
pull it tight.
this is not a noose.
make sure it’s tight.
it’ll help us in the fall.
-
find the thread to them and snap it
or tug on it, gently, try to stretch it-
it is thick, and binding,
like chains, not elastic.
better yet, follow the thread back-
pull until the other side is in your hands,
pull their heart out of their chest and find plastic.
it doesn’t pump blood the way yours does.
it doesn’t beat with life the way you do.
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[the poem i can never honestly write]
this is the last poem i write about you.
i lay your stories to rest in my head,
i leave them for new people to hear
and for me to forget.
no longer will i think of you daily,
waiting for a phone call that will not come.
i will let other people take up my time,
without wishing you were here too.
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~trauma~
i don’t wish that your past was better
your past is what’s made you
i just wish
that your future
fixes all the bad
in your past
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You
most of my poems contain you-
the word you, and your essence.
most of my poems are about you-
my love for you, and your apathy.
i like to dream that if i describe you enough, you’ll become real-
You’ll meet me face to face, the perfect person i always saw.
i like to dream that if i describe the good parts enough, they’ll blossom-
the truth of your flaws will fade away, leaving someone i can keep.
will you understand my love for you if i use the right words-
if i find the perfect combination of phrases?
will you understand my hate for you if you read the poems-
or will you just find me crazed?
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