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Shattering
Verb:
1. Break or cause to break suddenly and violently into pieces
2. Damage or Destroy (Something Abstract).
"It's kinda like putting plastic in below-freezing temperatures,
leaving it out there and completely forgetting about it, then trying
to pick it up, but see pieces of this plastic shatter; become fragments of itself.”
Finger(s)
noun:
What I tempt fate with
1. each of the four slender jointed parts attached to either hand (or five, if the thumb is included).
"Her multicolored fingers picked its descended writing utensil. I can imagine that felt like being picked by God to write a miracle"
Digit(s)
noun:
What I frolic through the air in a whimsical manner just to say hi, say that I see you, when I see someone who doesn't make me want to stop cold--someone who doesn't bring back bad memories--someone who doesn't make me want to run for the hills and pray a repeated prayer--someone I legit love almost as if I knew the definition of it cause if you can't love yourself how can you possibly love another.
2. a finger (including the thumb)
"I remember how I stood outside for you for what felt like an hour; sure I know I was cold--sure I knew it was cold, but I just wanted to be the first face you saw when you arrived; I wanted, craved and could taste our Hallmark moment hug; I remember that within that amount of time, I could barely feel my digits, they just like my hands had begun to go numb; I just wanted to see you... and just because I saw your face -- doesn't really mean that I ever got to see you."
A Golden shovel from other-worldly's definition
(n.) the inability to express your feelings
I never knew there was a word for all the the’s
They call it alexithymia.
I never thought I could say the inability
came from the pits of my stomach, depths of my heart to be and to say
is something harder than it looks,
but it is the look in your
eyes that make my
trembling blabbering seduction method less embarrassing,
these feeling feelings
Has been nothing but unknown territory for me,
say I love you was to bow down on one knee and bestow upon you
every poem I ever wrote you, to express
but Hey sometimes plans change and all I can think about now is my own silence
and how it is like pushing up against herself to not try something tremblingly new…again
but at least I have you.
woman’s body is made
of approximately 55% water.
I guess this is why I find it so natural
to be a bottle myself.
To keep my mouth shut like a metaphorical cap.
To have my emotions inside having them
become the carbonation that
without moderation can feel blissfully detrimental.
To repress my tears &
choke back my dialogue unsolicitedly
sharing my thoughts in
conversations that I’d otherwise
feel ostracized from.
To keep testing the limits of my
own capacity trying to gauge
on the maximum & how to exploit it,
how to challenge it to be better,
holding back more than just water
and introducing more elements to my body.
To hold the weight of assignments or
due dates, of the feeling of never
being good enough for the person despite
the relationship or the environment &
constantly battling against oneself to be
the survival of the fittest, winning that
title but coming out on the other side
so much less than before;
you try to call
it revamping or maturing, but
all you're doing is changing the
components of what
makes me "Me" all in the act to
delay & hiding the shattering of
the person’s gaze
of how I portray myself.
A fight against
time to prolong the spontaneous combustion
that'll leave pieces smaller than grains of sand
on the beach to need to be collected &
pieced back together again.
They say the
How can you
put the puzzle pieces together when they're so
small & so far removed from each other
Easter egg is hidden in every individual that I've
come across in hopes of healing their broken, but to do
so I had to provide pieces of myself that were
similar enough to fit what they were missing.
How can you put together a puzzle with no image
of what it was supposed to be?
They say the Woman’s body is made
of approximately 55% water.
I guess this is why I find it so natural
to be a bottle myself
To keep my mouth shut like a metaphorical cap.
To have my emotions inside having them
become the carbonation that
without moderation can feel blissfully detrimental.
To repress my tears, and
choke back my dialogue,
unsolicitedly sharing my thoughts in
conversations that I’d otherwise
feel ostracized from.
To keep testing the limits of my
own capacity gauge trying to gauge compacity
on the maximum & how to exploit it,
how to challenge it to be better, never become proud
holding back more than just water
and introduceing more elements to my body.
To hold the weight of assignments or
due dates, of the feeling of never
being good enough for the person despite
the relationship or the environment &
constantly battleing against oneself to be
the survival of the fittest, winning that
title but coming out on the other side
so much less than before;
you try to call
it revamping or maturing, but
all you're doing is changeing the
components of what
makes me "Me" all in the act to
delay & hiding the shattering of
the person’s gaze
of how I portray myself.
A fight against
time to prolong the spontaneous combustion
that'll leave pieces smaller than grains of sand
on the beach to need to be collected &
pieced back together again.
How can you
put the puzzle pieces together when they're so
small & so far removed from each other
Easter egg is hidden in every individual that I've
come across in hopes of healing their broken, but to do
so I had to provide pieces of myself that were
similar enough to fit what there were missing.
How can you put together a puzzle with no image
of what it was supposed to be
I'm the runt,
only I am not so
because I am, or was
deprived of my mother's milk,
it is not because I refused
it neither.
I am the runt,
because I've been deprived
of the ability to speak
my own words and
of knowing they will
be heard.
I am a runt
because I love
far too hard and
in the same ways in none
of the
ways are right;
I am deprived of love
No not because I never
receiv[e/d] it
but because I give
Away much more
than I have in my possession,
ringing myself dry
like a sponge,
trying to darndest
of every molecule
of myself to give
what I find so rare to get.
I never give any to myself
as a second or
third-hand punishment
for not disturbing to get
it from,
why would I give anything to myself?
I am the runt
because I dare to dream
of what I do not have
my happy ending
or manufactured retellings,
my reaching at
for some kind of silver,
like I've learned
some kind of lesson;
made some kind
of development;
had some kind
of experience… right?
I am the runt.
this is why
I often bite
my tongue,
shuts my mouth
and hesitates
at making eye contact
sometimes.
I am the butt of every joke,
the pity plot twist of every story
and the one who wishes
not to be a burden
therefore becomes
more vintage bottle
with a cork top
Than a Woman
-Maybe theres
something you're
afraid to say, or
someone you're afraid
to love or somewhere
you're afraid to go.
It's gonna hurt
because it matters.
John Green (Looking for Alaska)-
It seems like I can't tell you enough of how I feel & it's not really due to you but I can't help, but wonder how much really sticks to you. Sure I say I love you. Sure I tell you, but how often do you walk away feeling as if I'm just speaking out my ass & saying it just to say it. Like I get it more than most, anything you share with me about your pain & your experience with it, I've felt it too. Feel alone? Felt it too, in fact, I know the feeling all too well. It has a name. It is ok cause it has been a walk in my life, See I'm here. Maybe I'm not making that clear enough, but maybe it is because I'm out of breath & it's not always due to our passionate kissing, it's because sometimes I feel like I'm running in place to catch up to you, because either you're there or you're pulling away & I find myself blaming the one & only, like tell me what have I done I'll never ask you this outright, but actions speak louder than words so maybe you can hear me asking in my eyes, in how I'll lay my head on your shoulder when your close enough; you'll feel it in how I kiss you cause you know our lips hold secret messages, I pull in closer hoping that one will get stuck on my lips. Maybe it's how I hang on too much & it's why I try to figure out what I did so I can fix it. So you can stay. I don't want to lose you& if each time I wrote that as a prayer, I would have lost count of how many I've said. I don't even know how much of that has changed since the last time we talked just tell me & maybe you would have if I would just ask you. I keep trying to tell myself that if you'd answer me when I called then maybe I could ask you, but you didn't so I find myself writing this poem again or maybe for the first time, but I have lost count.
