I have some friends
that live inside of me.
They wreck me and
maybe they aren’t
real(ly) friends.

When they know
there’s no one there
they make me wail out
in pain.

They clog my throat
as if it were a pipe,
and they jump up and down my heart
as if it were
a trampoline
(and sometimes they pinch it
really hard).

Sometimes they run around
in my brain and scream
in laughter
or in horror.

I don’t know if they are my friends
at all.

Images

A/N: I had different images of myself in my head and wanted to write them down. I don’t know what they all mean, I guess I’m sort of exploring loneliness as an aspect in poems, but I don’t know if this poem makes sense. I wanted to share it so here you go

Me, walking down a corridor,
almost dragging myself,
in an oversized pyjamas
and a bag of chopped cheddar in my hand.

Me, driving in circles around you
in an empty car park.
I’m laughing and the wind
is making me want to cry.

Me, walking down a different corridor,
almost skipping,
holding a bag of clementines,
which taste like you.

Me, walking down the empty street
at noon,
my massive scarf is suffocating me
but I love the feeling.

Me, walking down the road,
and each car is making me jump,
and each passing light is saying
“You’re not alone in here.”

I am torn between
fear and comfort.

lips

My lips are soft,
even though I haven’t kissed
you in months.
I run my fingers gently
through them and I imagine
your fingers touching them.
My heart skips a beat
and I remember
kisses in snowy January days,
kisses in hot August nights,
kisses in 3 am and
kisses in 3 pm.
My lips carry the memory
of yours, and suddenly
my feet are not touching
the ground and I am floating.
I miss you.
Feel my cherry lips and know
they’re yours until they crack
and loneliness bleeds out.

La Solitude

I have embraced Solitude
and she is my friend now.
We eat together,
we sleep together,
we go on walks together,
and we write poems together.
I need Solitude as one needs
their best friend.
But sometimes I want her to
just fucking go away.
I need her to let me be with others
because I want to have other friends
too.
She always tempts me
to be with her.
She calls my friends and tells them
that I am spending the weekend with her,
that I am going out with her
AND ONLY HER.
I love you, Solitude
but I need others
and sometimes
you hug me too hard and
I suffocate,
and I suffocate
until you tell me that
you are the only one who will
love me as much.

Please, Solitude,
leave me alone.

There are fireworks outside and I’m bored and feeling stuff

I sit on my window sill and gaze at the darkness
Fireworks bang and crackle behind the trees
Some of them are shy and some of them
are fearless
And I am laughing out loud
Because I am happy
I feel every boom in my chest
And I remember how kissing you for the first time felt
Exactly like that
I love you
And the thought of kisses
Makes me melt
Here sitting on the window sill
And I melt
And I’m melting
Down the wall and onto the pavement
Where people step on me and don’t think twice
But I’m smiling
And feeling every fire
work inside me

shortest blog post in the world

I recently re-watched my favourite film of all times for the n-th time. And I came across a quote that hit me a bit too hard. Why do we always tell our stories through relationships?

Don’t get me wrong. Relationships are great. But really, why do we always talk about ourselves through our relationships. Do they determine who we really are? We are a lot more than someone’s girlfriend/boyfriend. Our identity is not defined by who we love.

I love my S.O. With all my heart. But I would hate to be known just as their S.O. Aren’t I my own person?