Pursuit

Fully aware that you pursue me in only in draped skies-

Because I am born of light.

When your own darkness consumes you

And you don’t have the desire to be devoured anymore

You knock on my door

And like the fool that I am- I open

With arms wide open

And a mind filled with naive thoughts that you won’t hurt me-

Yet you leave me in your darkness like you have before

Mind helplessly swimming in confusion

Unable to derifrienciate our demons

Because yours make themselves feel so much at home

In my own

They take up all the empty spaces, that I don’t even notice you leaving

You’re foolish for leaving me with your demons Because they will always find you

And wholely consume you

I am born of light, it’s only a matter of time before they’re blinded by me.

They find comfort in your solitude

Darkness is no Stranger to you

And you will come knocking on my door

And again, I’ll let you in

But this time

Leave your shoes and demons at the door

I am tired of your sole walking all over me.

I hate that you’re the one door I am unable to close

You drain me.

02 June 2016

22:23

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Imperfections 

I’m just a girl who has learned to take her pain and write it in words. My work is dripping in grammatical errors.

At no point am I trying to be perfect.

One thing I do know is, writing somehow keeps me sane in the midst of my chaos, and for me that’s really comforting. What’s even more comforting is when people relate and look beyond my errors.

– Mirror Conversation 

  
You’re the real meaning of staying but leaving.
A cross between a hurricane and tremor infused in water.
But you’re not a disaster,
And you don’t cause one,
But somehow those around your feel the aftermath of your presence,
And It’s not as pretty as you look.
You wonder why people who love you, never want you to stay.
You wonder why they say you keep pushing them away.
There’s just something about you that doesn’t scream “safe”.

-Mirror Conversation 

Throwback 

   
I came across this piece just now and I was completely unaware that I wrote it, until I was half way through. 

In those seconds, it dawned on me how unbelievablely easy it was for me to write about topics I had absolutely no idea of.

Now, that I’m learning to be aware of my emotions, writing has become such a foreign talent of mine.

Long story short, I can finally relate to what what I used to write about and now that I’m experiencing it, I find it difficult to write.

Nobody Asks An Art Piece Why It Is The Way It Is

I haven’t written for a very long time and I guess it’s because I’m still going through the many forms of hurt and pain and I don’t know how to express without actually hurting.

And I guess I also realised that people close to me go through my work and ask about it.

It’s uncomfortable.

I Hate it.

I write because I don’t want to talk about it.

People don’t get that.

I remember why I actually started writing,

I had a lot of heaviness, I felt neglected and heavily betrayed by the only person I knew how to love the most.

I could have been many questionable things at that point of my life,

But I turned to my notebook.

Now here I am,

With somewhat of a trembling pen just trying to get my life together again

Because living half a life isn’t worth it anymore.

I just want to be

A L I V E

This is Chapter 2 of my life.