you can’t save someone from themselves.
• I care less about
The number of likes
And more about
The number of lives
That I change
In a positive way
To be someone’s light
On their darkest days
Is my hope - For days to come •
the loudest sound of them all
Today, love is just situationships 🛥 fuck that
There is beauty in the fact that there are people who struggle. People struggle and don’t want others to have to go through the same so they lift them up. They may not have much but they can make a world of difference for others. They know it too, but someone needs to lift them up as well. Over the next few days I will be posting a few poets/people, who lift others even when they may be facing their own challenges. I ask that you shower them with love and kindness as much as they do for us. Show appreciation.
I appreciate all of you who have ever given me feedback, supported my work, or just talked! May you receive these blessings and more as well 🧡
Today's featured poet is @on_the_other_hannah
Such powerful poetry! Please swipe to see a taste of their poetry and show some love!
for both the fearsome ones and realsome 🌞
Set to bloom. How a new poet gets born. Image mine of darkening rainy Los Angeles.
December came with a promise of hurt and a promise of leaving too soon.
It brought me dead flowers and everything I lost this time last year.
It looked skimpy and pale, almost like every boy I've tried to make flowers out of.
December came reeking of books I've buried and dreams I do not dare dream anymore.
It came trudging and will probably leave before I ask my questions about where did they hide the sun or drown my hope.
December brought sadness,
the kind that stays even after the music stops,
Even after the end credits roll,
Even after the mourning has stopped.
But this year, December brought along a boy lost in music,
A boy so in the kind of love I only wish I was in.
He tells me it took him 2 years to comprehend what Thom Yorke was trying to say.
While I tired to feed him Lillies made out of the album 1989, he kept vomiting an autumn of post rock.
I think I now hear why.
December brought along a boy who smiles too much and his hands do more talking than his mouth does.
December came with a promise of hurt and leaving too soon and him.
I hope when all this winter decides to leave, it takes all of him and half of his music along too. -Ayesha //picture from Pinterest//