Something New.

Reflection

She says she hears me
But that’s it: she hears me
She does not listen
Not with her ears, and not with her heart
Not with her soul, drifting afar
She merely receives noise and perceives nothing
Nothing of what I truly am or am to become
I’m just a shell with an echo to her
A cave for her to hear herself
With puddles for her to see herself
Reflection
She is beautiful but she does not see me
She does not see the driven King
She boasts at being humble
Rambles about being timid
She is irony at its best
Contradicting and ever-so vivid
In memory, sizzling and distorted in my mind
I keep searching but I don’t know what it is I’m trying to find
Within her, from her
She wants my flesh, so I let her take a bite
She sinks her teeth in, violently
Quenching her thirst, feeding her lust
And what I thought was love was forever lost
I’m now left with these wounds I saw coming from the start
Our love like a firework, never like a star
Minimally exciting and only moments long
Obstructive to the real beauty waiting to be found: A love like a star, or maybe a galaxy
Capable of physical death, but always visible somewhere in the starry sea-
That’s what I want
That’s what I need
Someone who understands and won’t make me bleed

What happened to romance with words? What happened to times when it was regular to appreciate good poetry, when literature could be used to spill emotion from the heart and swoon another, when words were what a man could show off to please a lady instead of a fancy car, instead of “swag”. Such times have passed and have yet to begin again. I lay in bed and wonder to myself if such a love could still ever exist, one where dialogue and conversation could be exchanged poetically, immensely, and deep with emotion in the crafting of words expressing love for one another. I want to intertwine with another soul through the gift of language. I want to find someone who appreciates being my muse; someone who isn’t afraid of me writing about them, or for them… Someone who isn’t afraid of becoming immortal.

Hopelessly.

You’re so lovely and I’m so lost. I’d like to be found in your arms, like I find myself in your eyes. I’d like to be not forgot. I’d like to mean something to you. The idea is so lovely; the idea is so lost. And I’m falling.

Hopelessly.

“a weakness in words”
Poetry by: Phamista
Photo by: Old Sarge

It’s late. And I’m bad at finding typos. But I think I found them all.

#prose #words #hopelessromantic #poetry #writing #thoughts #messy #handwriting #handwritten

“The Wind”Poetry by: PhamistaPhoto by: OiMax

“The Wind”
Poetry by: Phamista
Photo by: OiMax

Unnecessary Emotions

Unnecessary words
spilling from necessary emotions
I’m bleeding and broken
convinced myself fixed
My heart left open
and my lips unkissed

I don’t scream anymore
I’ve molded with the pain
With every word spilt
nothing will ever be the same

So let me sing and
destroy the world around me
Let me hope for the best
believing in faith, ever so blindly

Unspoken: Letters To Her #6

There will never be another you.
Such a cliche saying, but now I see it true.
The man at the end of the aisle, saying, “I do”
on the other side of you, has no idea how lucky he is.
To have you, your attention, your heart
Your love; to have all that, he is a truly rich man
Wealthy with invaluable things;
To be able to hear you sing, everyday, to be the one
you sing about, to be the father of your children.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever find something like you again, not in a sense of personality or soul, but rather the mingling of souls; if I will ever find someone so captivating again, yet someone who will be in love with me as much as I with them.

(Source: phamista.com)

Knocking

I’m at your door

knocking

I’ve watched the moon rise and fall

the sun fall asleep, and wake up tall

I’ve caught the kiss of an autumn breeze

Slept through the soul-stealing shivers of a wrenching winter

Yet, still, you tease

I see you stare through the peephole

I hear your footsteps, cries, and laughter on the other side

Why won’t you turn the knob?

Let me inside?

Instead, I’ve been sitting on your steps for almost a year

And for what, my dear?

Am I even getting anywhere?

(Source: phamista.com)

Intentions

You’ve knocked on my door.
I’ve answered. Come on in,
please don’t be shy. I’m sorry
for the mess. The last person
whom I made room for came
in and destroyed almost
everything I had. I tried to
clean up as much as I could
to make room for someone
new. Someone like you. If
you’d like to stay, please,
make yourself at home. I’ll
treat you well. I’ll take care
of you and make sure you’re
alright. I could use someone
like you around here, ya know;
your scent, your smile, your
laugh, your essence. I’m not
hiding anything here, I’m
an open book, with an open
heart, willing and waiting
to love you. So there’s the
door, still open as you left
it. If this honesty, all which
I’ve laid out straight and true
has shaken you, please make
a move so I know your
intentions. So I can shift the
beat of my heart in-tune with
yours — or not. Don’t make
me wait; don’t make me rot.
Don’t linger in thought. For
while you are here, next to
me, you are the only one
I dream about. The only one
I sing about. Don’t watch my
heart fall for you as you’re
making plans to leave. If
you want to stay, tell me.

(Source: phamista.com)

The beauty of writing is you can twist and turn every inch of every word, every part of the sentence, every ounce of the meaning. You can start with a thought, something you truly feel, and end it with something you wish could be true. Everything can be anything. And anything can be beautiful.

(Source: phamista.com)

Unspoken: Letters To Her #5

Whisper me a song, and sing it to the sky
maybe I’ll hear your voice one of these nights
echoing through the atmosphere, and into my heart
buying time until we are no longer apart
until you are no longer so far
from me, and I no longer so far
from you

As I write this, I feel my soul stirring
and my heart warming, knowing the day will come soon
the day when I may lay my hand on your face, and you
lay your hand on my heart, the day we both find
that something true

(Source: phamista.com)

Unspoken: Letters To Her #4

My sweet angel, my lullaby
your voice moves me, and bathes my soul in a slumber
too perfect for words
you are my better half —
my only

but you are not here yet.

I get lost in the idea of you, believing that you are
that you are right beside me
that you have found me, and I
have found you
I know not what to do,
but wait.

(Source: phamista.com)

Unspoken: Letters To Her #3

Bare bones, skin stripped back
flesh decaying, heart intact
you found me here, bleeding
to keep my heart going
you found me bruised
yet you were still knowing
that I was worth loving
worth holding on to
that there was more to me
than just this flesh ridden mess
that there was more
underneath my chest
a beating heart, singing with every pulse
tender and delicate, but heavy with every note
heavy with love, and truth
heavy for you
but through all this, my pain sings too
sounds more like screams
with no knowledge of what has been done
what damage had begun, but has now ceased
my heart sings in disbelief
as it ignores the hurt
and has waited for you
you and your heart
and everything you do

(Source: phamista.com)