passing through

I heard bullets leave particles as they pass through fabric. They tend to cling for decades or more. The night you left, you shot through fabric on the clothesline with a force that left me breathless. I had been waiting for months for you to come back for me. It rained and parched and bellowed in all that time.

Bracing for impact. Your words rolled off the edge nonstop until you were empty and I was full. Full of questions I didn’t dare ask. Full of questions I know I should have asked. I remember silence digging its heels into my spine when everything was being taken from me. I remember because I was on the floor in the dark and I was shaking from all the breaking.

That didn’t stop your leaving. When has it ever? When has an already bleeding body stopped a bullet from cutting through new flesh? When has it stopped a shoot to kill? The particles revolved around my dizzy bones, seeped into my blood, compounded my love and pinned me further to the ground.

I was never meant to be your home. Twelve months of manipulating a tourniquet and changing bandages and I finally understand that I was somewhat of a lingering, a place to lodge, and you were merely passing through.

Wind Mills

The ones who stayed
and braved the storm (together)

looked a lot like us
(had we dared to survive).
In love and leaning against
each other’s spine. Holding back
the wind that came to rip away.

The force with which their tragedy
arrived met them ill prepared.
A force so strong it swept
them to surrender. Now,

they are on their bellies
hanging on to the crook of
each other’s hands. Praying
with their eyes closed and
veins strained because

there isn’t much choice when
the pillar collapses nor is there
a way to keep the ground from
shaking. There is only the need to
survive and the blades are rotating

with enough conviction to generate
a spark that will transcend pain.
I see them in the middle of this
cyclone rotating clockwise

I see them tattered, when it calms,
still holding on by the fingertips.

The journey to unloving

It was desire coupled with fear,
It was reality and a dire need for freedom,
It was the sheer need for some honest answers,
The uncanny exhaustion of uncertainty and
The insolent diplomacy of feelings.
These were the things that stirred me away from my illusions,
These were the things that led me back home.

Flames

I am queen.
A coalition of many generations before me,
A gust of wind. A rose. A wild goose on a chase.
So baby, don’t speak to me about love.
Don’t speak to me about needing someone so much you cannot live without them,
Don’t speak to me about being incapable of taking care of an entire entity that is me,
You scare me with the way you up and leave like this is a game,
A game you mustn’t play lest you lose it all.

Tell me, are you a sailor?
Are you a boat under water that you cannot breathe?
Forget what you’ve been told.
You are burning with desire, You are combusting beyond the shadows,
Look inside yourself. Look beyond the shallow wall that fear has built.
All things float away in time and soon you will be left reaching for a time that once was.

Don’t speak to me about forever.
Don’t articulate anything you are incapable of fulfilling,
You lie to everyone. Not me. Never yourself,
I can see clearly past the chains that are gripping your wrists,
Preventing you from loving the way you have always wanted to.
They keep shutting you out. Out of a love that is meant for you.
Forgive my ripping tongue. It misses you.
It cannot take another moment of acute insanity because of the lack of you.

So find me a palm tree on an island,
let us lay beneath its shadows,
Look at me with tremble and then peace.
Cover my skin with all the things you are afraid to say.
Stop saying you can’t. Because you can.
You love me. I see it in the way your heart is glowing through your chest right now.

It always has to be about love, doesn’t it?
It always has to be about a feeling that leaves you needing,
a feeling that leaves you looking for hope beneath the rubble.
So find yourself a moment and live in it.
Engrave it in the center of your heart .
Own that purpose when you find it.
Allow yourself the pleasure of absolute freedom.

My love,
You are fire. You are fire.
You are the wildest flame with orange around your edges,
And when the time comes,
You will burn to the ground, everything that stands in your way.

JAN 24th :- HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY.

Heartsandpaper is a year old today and I only remembered when I got a notification from WordPress (how terrible) . This is my first post of the year so HAPPY NEW YEAR beautiful people :D. I hope this year is everything you hope it will be and more and I hope you experience God’s love and goodness.

On the anniversary note, i would like to thank every single person that has come on here in the last year. Thank you for your time, comments, for sharing the posts, telling your friends about it (i met some great people) and telling me how much you connected with one poem or another. You make this whole inspiration/writing thing so worth it.

I am so excited for all the inspirations waiting to be transformed into amazing poems and i look forward to sharing them with you.  I have a lot of really awesome projects planned out for this year and I hope I get the chance to write as often as i would like. Thank you for being the eyes, ears and hearts I get to touch with my art.

Poetry is my escape, let it be yours.
Don’t Stop Reading :).
God bless.

REBEL CHRISTIAN.

Three days ago she lost sight of her belief,
Something told her,
“It’s okay to immerse yourself in that wrong”
“just a little bit won’t hurt, just a little…”

And you know, That’s how it starts
from a little bit, To a little more, to a lot more
and soon she would be too far gone,
too far gone, she wouldn’t know her way back.

So I told her to stop and look around,
Forget the pleasures of the world,
They will hold you bound. Nothing is as perfect
as the sound of your beating heart.

Jesus loves you way too much,
For you to live your life this way.

TO ALL THE BOYS.

Wherever you are as I write this,
I hope the years have been kind.

To the boys I crushed on
For a day, a week, a month or months,
Thank you for feeding my fantasies.
To the boys who crushed right back,
But still acted just as friends,
To the boys who took my number but never called,
To the boys whose texts I never replied.

To the boys I liked but never dated,
To the boys I wish I had the courage to talk to,
To the boys that never said hello,
To the boys that walked away,
To the boys who were afraid to say how they felt,
To the boys who think we’ll be married.

To the boys I couldn’t see beyond friend zone
for reasons i may never be able to say,
To the boys who have only wanted to be just friends,
To the boys I never admitted I had feelings for,
To that one boy I dated,
To the boys whose feelings I hurt.

To the boys who wouldn’t take no for an answer,
To the boys I wish I would meet again,
To the ones I wish I wouldn’t.
To the boys I imagine a future with,
To the boys that have respected me,
To that one boy that still crosses my mind.

To my brothers, the first boys I ever met,
Thank you for showing me that
There are still good guys in the world.
To the boys whose names ill never know,
and those I do not remember.

Wherever you are as I write this,
I hope the years have been kind.