Roses From Men Who Scarred You

It pains you…

You’re well aware that you’re digging yourself a grave just to fulfill something completely unrelated to this man, whom you share a bed.

Concealing a hurt you were once too young to fathom or understand.

Because at that point, all you knew was joy. Pain was just something you felt when you lost balance and fell off a bike and was never really an emotion.

All you could recall was feeling empty for a while staring at the world, as it spun and you finally catch your breath when it eclipsed with your smile.

Unaware that planetary shifts are no different from spiritual principalities and warfares, drastically shifting while you remained stationary, unable to detect the areas of your life that were constantly under attack!

And it took a while for you to see it… you began to see the patterns of the unapologetically toxic men, you could not help but attract, and they happened to look attractive and you happened to be attracted and ultimately attached.

Attached to a string of men, that literally led you nowhere, and No, they were NOT stringing you along, you were dead weight, to men who had witnessed you digging your own grave, in their presence, with presents that they used as tokens of apologies to just buy more time with you, until they got lucky.

And after the pain and sufferings, of you witnessing death in the eyes of the men, you once thought you loved, you sought peace.

And finally, it hits you,

You reach utopia,

A moment of solitude that leads to solace.

And you finally get it…

“You were never enough to make your father stay”

And that you never feel enough for the men you beg to stay.

There’s a connection.

The first is the root, and the latter, fruits that are bared.

It’s the same pain, except it was planted in your youth and it’s been growing and It has outgrown you.

The same branches that reach out to these men, push them away, equally as quickly… and it grows and it grows.

As you feed it apologies which are not meant to be said and lust to men who are not worthy; men who do not require refuge but seek it for the sake of curiosity; seeking asylum in sacred parts of your body.

A temple which was never meant to be toyed with to begin with, simply because you didn’t end it.

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A Mile; In Suicidal Shoes

you’re not a bad person for the way you kill your sadness…

Each pill dissolving on your tongue, the way you wished your pain would.

But pain is not like people,
you can’t just talk it away,

And people aren’t simple,
you cannot force them to stay.

99 pills at once,

Like problems shoved down your throat.

Difficult to swallow.

Difficult to breathe.

life isn’t easy.

Death is a breeze.

your living pain is unbearable,
And you can’t wait to leave.

Coping, are your eyes,
Struggling to stay awake.

Starved is your heart,
Unable to eat joy.

Confused is your mind,
How could misery be so happy, when it always has you in mind.

No suicide note.

No one deserves to know how frozen their coldness left you.

How their ghostly words
that escaped their tongue
now haunt you-
Like you will now haunt them.

You’ve managed to stop the world from spinning.

Slowly floating away.

Never felt anything so great.

Embracing you body for the fight, maybe now, it too, will understand the scars you placed above every vain.

It too, will fully feel the pain you’ve been exposed to.

You hoping nothing goes wrong, because it’s way too right.

So light as a feather,
is this moment.
Unable to feel the ground.

You feel rest,
Drowning in peace.

As your troubled soul escapes from you

Happy,

That no one is nearby to save you.

Happiness like this doesn’t last
It turns into pain of the past.

you clinch every single part of you.

Then finally

With your last breath

YOU.ARE.FREE

Quote

That “Girl, Go Get Your Life” Quote

“He may still love you. He probably does. He probably doesn’t know what he wants. He probably still thinks about you all the time. But that isn’t what matters. What matters is what he’s doing about it, and what he’s doing about it is nothing. And if he’s doing nothing, you most certainly shouldn’t do anything. You need someone who goes out of their way to make it obvious that they want you in their life.”

I don’t remember

For Sale

I consciously placed a sale tag on a non-discountable good.
The one timeless peice,
People would merely walk in and admire,
Was on sale.

Aware,
But based on pure frustration, 
I wanted it to go.
Those who walked in
To purely admire it,
Were in disbelief
Those who had never seen it before, knew it was a steal.
Commotion at the door.

Flipped
Tossed
Tugged
Dropped
Scratched and
Pulled
All the way to the till
They, all of a sudden forgot I had value
For that moment
I was worth that 50% I had placed on me.

Shocked, that even those that knew me
Were willing to walk all over me.
I remembered who I was.
My true value
My worth.

I placed me back to where I belonged
They weren’t happy
They might not even view me for a very long time.
But I’m happy.
I’m happy I got myself back
I then began to stitch myself together
and began to acknowledge my worth.

Every scar
Every follicle
Every strand of hair
Specifically crafted.

I realised why I don’t go flying off the shelves like those around me.
I was not made in a sweat shop.
Every part of me was hand crafted.
Features of my mother and father merged together on face.
Although they are no longer together.
I am both of them.
But in their bothness, 
I am me.
A timeless peice.
Never willing to put myself on sale again.

Validation

I see girls switching on their cameras, stripping off their morals, in search for validation; in the form of 1000 likes.

I’ve seen and heard them say and do things, in spite of what they promised, their 8 year old self.

In the wee hours of the morning, you can see teardrops seep from underneath their doors, Crying for love, that they cannot afford to give themselves.

They Strain their pockets and kill their legs, just to look prettier than the next girl, like we’re all in some sort of attention grabbing competition.

I’ve heard them say hurtful things, to other woman, to get a backing from a man, who will probably think less of her, but want to see more of her, naked, on his body.

I’ve seen and been a victim of how they step on heads and lay on beds just to elevate themselves.

The world gets to see how their confidence is actually on their skin, by the way they barely have clothes on.

Somehow I’m grateful for men that confuse woman, because it makes it easier to sift for a woman who possess Character. A woman who never wavers her decisions based on a man’s current preference.
Thick, skinny, dreaded, long hair, natural,  makeup yet bare.

A woman of substance and self love. Never alters her life or value system based on how a man is feeling during their encounter.

We, as a woman, need to stop craving positive feedback to help us see how our identity and beauty fits into a man’s world. We seek for validation on social media, because we get instant feedback and gratification. Problem is, we are looking for validation in very dangerous places.

Let’s be honest;

“Social media is a virtual talking mirror that contains irrelevant voices”

All I’m saying is, most influential voice,  should come from within…

“I have grown to understand that I’m difficult to love, not because I’m broken, but  because I’m whole. I don’t give guys the luxury of loving me in parts. I love all of me whole heartedly, so it becomes difficult for a guy to squeeze through my insecurities to fill a void he might think I possess. I don’t get aroused by petty compliments.
See, some guys find joy in loving someone who’s broken so that they fix them just to break them again.”

Stranger

I don’t know why I’m writing this,
But it kinda feels good…

I know you’re somewhere out there 
Probably reading this…

I’m assuming you’re a Stranger 
Who probably knows nothing about me
Because for long, those closest to me didnt even know I write poetry. 

So any judgments you make of me
Will be based on this poem,
Or perhaps the other poems I’ve written.
I like that!

I like how I can slightly control what you think of me.
Showing you my good,
My bad,
Or what you may regard as My ugly.

I like the idea of you formulating your opinion about me, based on that alone.

I know this won’t make much sense…
But I truly appreciate you & your presence.
I appreciate you taking time off your busy life,
Just to read words that I’ve managed to rip off my chest,  
Because those closest to me,
Those who swear they love me, 
Just don’t have the time… 

That’s what I like about you I guess
The fact that you’re here 
Actually giving a damn about me,
Or at least leading me an ear… 

At this very moment in time,
I can be anyone I want to be
Just to create the perfect first impression,
But instead,
I choose to be myself.
I’d like to have a chance to be loved for who, I am for once.
Even if it’s just for a moment..
I may never feel it,
But that mere thought will keep me going.

Either way Stranger,
I thank you… 
I thank for allowing me 
To make my first impression on you, 
For giving me a chance to start over,
For somehow making me feel loved…

We’ll probably never meet 
Or cross paths again…
This will probably eventually fade from your memories before dusk falls or the sun rises.
And I Will probably forget that I ever wrote this.  
but in this moment
Or souls have collided, 
And we will never be, like we once were…