Tag: sunday

As it all fades


Forgive me,
For I won’t be writing about you any longer.
When memories come, I won’t hold my pen
And when I see them,
No ink will stain these pages
Like tears once stained my pillows.
The darkness won’t follow me
Like it did when the emptiness settled in my heart.
It was in this moment:
Realizing how I was fine until I met you
And I’ve been fine without you.
It’s a harsh truth for you,
But a blissful reality to me.

Picture via tecmundo.com.br



Memories tend to flood back at times when they’re unwanted. I’ve talked about emotional and physical pain before. How it doesn’t go away even though the world tells you it’s supposed to. I’ve learned a lot about pain (especially in this last year) and how the most important part of healing is time. We live in a world where everyone wants everything now. It doesn’t matter what it is. They need to love you now. They need to give you what you want now. Fame and success have to happen now. There’s little room for hard work, perseverance, and time.

Which is part of the reason that healing takes so long for people. They want to shut out their pain when the best thing to do is let it in. You allow yourself to hurt for a day or two, and then begin moving on no matter how hard it is. You get up and do your daily activities like you always do. Eventually, it doesn’t hurt anymore. When I knew that I had to do this, I was reluctant. Healing always took so long for me (I was one of those people). However, when I allowed it to happen it seemed to not take as long.

You can’t forget what happened or the person that caused it, but you can move on with your life. And when those memories do pop up in your head, you can remember them without feeling angry or sorrowful. Time heals all wounds no matter how deep.

At the end of it all,
The worst part was losing me.
Looking at my room, family, dog, and reflection
As though I’m living in someone else’s life,
And not knowing the difference between
Reality and a dream.

Picture via Los Angeles Times

Something Meaningful


Something has really annoyed me this week. I say this week even though it’s gotten on my nerves many times. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m not a loud or obnoxious person. I don’t say much and I choose not to raise my voice. When I explain this as being just the way I am, people seem to understand. However, most people call me shy or timid. Why is this?

Why is it when someone isn’t loud they’re automatically shy? When I think of shy, the word scared comes to mind. I think of the times when children hide behind their parent’s legs instead of saying hi to the stranger. Parents blow this off as being shy. I’m most definitely not hiding behind anyone’s legs, nor am I afraid of talking.

In fact, I’m the opposite. Talking is something that I’m best at. I talk about the weather and how I love rainy days more than the sunshine. I also talk about my favorite TV shows and movies. Food, music, animals, and which cleaning product is better or worse for the surface you’re needing to clean. I talk about the most mundane things and even deeper and more intellectual subjects.

The difference between what society considers outgoing and social butterfly is that when it comes to my conversations, I don’t just have them randomly. I don’t just start talking about subjects that don’t matter and run my mouth like a rat on a wheel. When I say something, I want it to be meaningful. Not a pile of gibberish that is spoken just to hear what my voice sounds like. I know what it sounds like. I’ve had this voice for twenty-three years.

So this week’s poem isn’t about love or lust or envy. It isn’t about my faith nor heartbreak. This week’s poem is about exactly what I’m talking about. It’s a poem I wrote recently when this subject started to matter to me. I can’t stand stereotypes, nor can I stand someone judging another person when they don’t even know them.

Don’t mistake my quiet voice,
Or my silence as fear.
I’m not afraid of sound,
Nor am I afraid of people.
It isn’t fear that silences me.
It isn’t people that quiet me.
I’m not shy nor am I timid.
I’m my own person
Who just so happens to not say much.
Not because I’m choking on my words.
Not because my heart is beating out my chest.
But because I’m choosing not to.
I say only what I want to say.
And that’s good enough for me.

– If there’s anything that I want people to remember, it’s that I had a lot to say in so little words.

Picture via thevitalounge.net

I Don’t Believe You


There is a beauty in simple, yet mind-blowing poetry. When most people think of poetry they look to Emily Dickenson or William Shakespeare. They think of that as what poetry is and if they write anything it’s terrible. Nothing anyone writes can meet the standards of those poets.

However, no one should think that way. While their writing is amazing, so is the poetry that gets written today. Poetry is the thoughts and feelings written about experiences you go through. I used to look at my poetry and think it was garbage. I tried to write like other people whom I thought were the best. Then I cut that out of my life. For a world that strives on being different from everyone else, we sure do like to compare ourselves and try to be like others.

When I started writing my poetry again I began to remind myself not to compare it to other writers. These were my thoughts and feelings. This was my way of expressing myself, coping with my reality, and potentially helping others do the same. Sometimes my poems would be long and other times they’ be shorter. Then there were moments where I only wrote one sentence down and that was enough to change my entire outlook on life.

It’s in those times that we read something or hear it in a song that we go, “Wow that so fits right now.” Then it’s almost like our world opened up to something completely new. I decided to share one of those poems this week. One that is extremely short, but says a lot in just a few words.

I’ve gone through many experiences. Dealing with people is usually the cause. I talk a lot about forgiveness and forgetting. I’ve grown up hearing the term, “Forgive and forget.” I hate it. This phrase teaches people who when you forgive someone, you’re supposed to forget it ever happened. That isn’t real. You can’t just forget what they did, how they did it, or who they did it with.

Sometimes it’s the small stuff that is possible to forget. Like a little white lie that they told for no reason. But there are times when those little white lies turn into bigger lies and so on. That is the same for every thing else these people do. It starts small and then grows until it is mentally draining and painful.

It’s at this point when you’ve decided enough is enough, and then they decided to “see” you. They want you to forgive them, but they also want it to be forgotten. So that’s what this week’s poem is about. The realization that no matter how hard I try, I will never forget what’s happened and that’s okay.

A lot of people argue that this way of thinking isn’t healthy. It’s “Holding grudges” or something stupid like that. In reality, it isn’t. What’s unhealthy is pretending like it’s possible to forget something that’s made such an impact on your life. It’s weirdly satisfying and freeing to know it’ll never go away. The pain will, the tears will, and a time will come when you don’t think about it as often. However, the memory will stay. The key to moving on isn’t trying to forget it. It’s knowing that you never will.

I don’t believe you

You may have changed,
But my memories haven’t.

Starting Over


One of my favorite topics to discuss is relationships. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a lot of experience in that department. There are stories that I can tell you that would blow your mind, make you laugh, and make you question the hope of all humanity. In the end, however, relationships aren’t forever. They come and go just as the world turns day and night.

We all have our own special rituals that we do during a breakup. One poet that really helped me during my most recent one was Rupi Kaur. She has such a raw way of expressing herself and her thoughts. In one of her pieces, she writes down a checklist of everything you should do when you have a breakup. You can view it by CLICKING HERE.

This week’s poem was written during the hard part of my most recent breakup. After I finished reading Rupi Kaur’s Milk and Honey, I followed a bit of her checklist. It actually made me feel better than I thought it would. I don’t know what your checklist is or if you even have one. However, I’ve learned that it’s the little things we do that help the healing process begin.

Starting Over

I threw everything away,
Washed my bed sheets,
And cleaned my room.
As water ran down my body I thought about you.

All of the memories rushed back in red.
All across my mind was you.
For that moment I allowed myself to miss you.
To picture us running into each others arms
And then I stopped.

Those thoughts turned into the water.
I let them caress me one last time like you used to.
I felt you there and then they went down the drain
Where they belong.

Picture via clker.com