There's always going to be a piece of myself missing.
She's always gonna be gone.
Always missing.
It's funny, I'm dressed like a ghost
but I'm haunted by a real one.
the ghost of myself,
the ghost of my past,
the ghost of my trauma.
But my abuser is all too real.
She spent her time hiding in the bathroom,
crying and shaking.
Everything is too much,
its overwhelming.
and he's picking the lock,
trying to get in.
Taking the space away.
When I blink I see it all again.
Clattering to the floor,
crying,
screaming,
shaking.
There's a piece of me still lost,
still gone
never coming back.
I hid on the top roof of a parking garage,
because the bathroom was no longer safe.
Closest to the sky,
farthest from the ground.
Ready to leave it all behind.
a part of me wishes I did.
It's torture,
walking down the street
while a piece of me is still crying in the bathroom.
I lost that piece of me,
and she's not coming back.
I can't bring back that ghost.
Thursday, October 31, 2019
Regression
Sometimes seeing you doesn't hurt me.
Sometimes I forget you exist.
And sometimes,
I can't get rid of the feeling
that you're breathing down my neck.
You moved on,
so should I.
It's not fair,
you get to move on as if nothing really happened.
As if you didn't hurt me,
ruin me,
taint me.
Why?
Why can you live in such comfort
and I have to stay behind in fear.
Why do I sit in fear,
waiting for the day you might come back.
It's not fair.
It's not fair that the abusers and rapists get to go on,
but we're left standing in wait.
I don't want to be like this.
I don't want to be scared,
or anxious,
or angry.
But I am.
Somedays I walk past you,
two strangers in the night,
my vision unable to recognize your face.
And somedays,
I see you face
and I remember.
and I can't forget
no matter how hard I try.
Halloween normally doesn't scare me
but today
I'm terrified.
Sometimes I forget you exist.
And sometimes,
I can't get rid of the feeling
that you're breathing down my neck.
You moved on,
so should I.
It's not fair,
you get to move on as if nothing really happened.
As if you didn't hurt me,
ruin me,
taint me.
Why?
Why can you live in such comfort
and I have to stay behind in fear.
Why do I sit in fear,
waiting for the day you might come back.
It's not fair.
It's not fair that the abusers and rapists get to go on,
but we're left standing in wait.
I don't want to be like this.
I don't want to be scared,
or anxious,
or angry.
But I am.
Somedays I walk past you,
two strangers in the night,
my vision unable to recognize your face.
And somedays,
I see you face
and I remember.
and I can't forget
no matter how hard I try.
Halloween normally doesn't scare me
but today
I'm terrified.
Monday, September 23, 2019
Guard your heart and hope to die
There are approximately 7 photos of your boyfriend,
one being a large canvas print of a photo
you have on your wall already.
Stories of people meeting in an era of romantic uncertainty.
Love is dead because marriage is a piece of paper, right?
An app that shows your name, age, photos, and a 500 character profile,
deems your worth and ability to be loved.
You guard your heart and hope it dies,
that way rejection doesn't sting as badly.
we monetize people looking for love across the world,
judge them for putting hope into a heart out of reach,
and then we mock the fact that they got burned
as if we ourselves have never been hurt.
Is it truly a bad decision to put your faith in love?
What if we were born in the wrong place, the wrong time,
speak the wrong language, and see the wrong sky?
How else are we to meet the one destined for us?
We live in an era of romantic uncertainty.
I want to try, but I'm not sure I can take that plunge.
one being a large canvas print of a photo
you have on your wall already.
Stories of people meeting in an era of romantic uncertainty.
Love is dead because marriage is a piece of paper, right?
An app that shows your name, age, photos, and a 500 character profile,
deems your worth and ability to be loved.
You guard your heart and hope it dies,
that way rejection doesn't sting as badly.
we monetize people looking for love across the world,
judge them for putting hope into a heart out of reach,
and then we mock the fact that they got burned
as if we ourselves have never been hurt.
Is it truly a bad decision to put your faith in love?
What if we were born in the wrong place, the wrong time,
speak the wrong language, and see the wrong sky?
How else are we to meet the one destined for us?
We live in an era of romantic uncertainty.
I want to try, but I'm not sure I can take that plunge.
Monday, September 16, 2019
Haunting
A long time ago I spoke about love as a wraith.
A translucent spectre that appears and disappears,
whenever it wants.
I once spoke that it is not you who haunt me,
but it is I who haunt myself.
A torterous cycle, going round and round
back and forth between being content that we are apart
but missing something because we are apart.
I am haunted by the 3am's of loneliness,
the mixed signals from late nights together,
and then days upon days of silence.
We are no longer spectre's of love,
and yet there's a drop of jealousy in my heart
because im witnessing a friend play favorites.
There is no care in how you treat me.
I get an empty reply every once in a while,
and sometimes
I don't get a good morning until the sun has gone down.
How could you be busy when you're calling someone else everyday,
you barrage another with texts,
and our mutual chat has replies for someone else but never for me.
I'm hanted by unsure emotions,
conflicting feelings.
I'm tortured by uncertainties and mixed messages.
I don't wish to be your everything,
but that doesn't mean I don't want to be something.
The human heart is fickle, confusing, and irritating.
I want to be a friend.
But I'm treated like a side dish,
someone to be used when wanted and discarded when eaten.
It makes me question what I should do and the person I should be.
Should I care or should I not?
Should I confront or should I let it be?
Will I even like my answer if I ask?
A long time ago I spoke of love as a wraith,
but now I see who the true spectre is.
It is not love,
nor I or you,
but it is the heart that beats in my chest,
the humanity I live
the emotions I bear.
My wraith is a haunting of existence,
tortured by living and burdened by breathing.
Is there an exorcism for living?
An escape from feeling?
Some priest who can cleanse my body and soul,
from the finger prints cast by existence?
Is there a pill I can take, that wishes my emotions away?
A translucent spectre that appears and disappears,
whenever it wants.
I once spoke that it is not you who haunt me,
but it is I who haunt myself.
A torterous cycle, going round and round
back and forth between being content that we are apart
but missing something because we are apart.
I am haunted by the 3am's of loneliness,
the mixed signals from late nights together,
and then days upon days of silence.
We are no longer spectre's of love,
and yet there's a drop of jealousy in my heart
because im witnessing a friend play favorites.
There is no care in how you treat me.
I get an empty reply every once in a while,
and sometimes
I don't get a good morning until the sun has gone down.
How could you be busy when you're calling someone else everyday,
you barrage another with texts,
and our mutual chat has replies for someone else but never for me.
I'm hanted by unsure emotions,
conflicting feelings.
I'm tortured by uncertainties and mixed messages.
I don't wish to be your everything,
but that doesn't mean I don't want to be something.
The human heart is fickle, confusing, and irritating.
I want to be a friend.
But I'm treated like a side dish,
someone to be used when wanted and discarded when eaten.
It makes me question what I should do and the person I should be.
Should I care or should I not?
Should I confront or should I let it be?
Will I even like my answer if I ask?
A long time ago I spoke of love as a wraith,
but now I see who the true spectre is.
It is not love,
nor I or you,
but it is the heart that beats in my chest,
the humanity I live
the emotions I bear.
My wraith is a haunting of existence,
tortured by living and burdened by breathing.
Is there an exorcism for living?
An escape from feeling?
Some priest who can cleanse my body and soul,
from the finger prints cast by existence?
Is there a pill I can take, that wishes my emotions away?
Sunday, August 25, 2019
How much?
How loudly do I have to scream?
How hard do I have to push?
How much do I have to do?
How much will it take for me to matter
to you?
I'm not talking about a certain you,
I'm asking the world?
I'm asking my reality.
What does it take for me to matter?
What does it take for my work to mean something?
How long do I have to fight to get a moments peace?
How much will it take for me to matter to you?
My existence has been devalued at every turn.
From a parent, from a friend, from a lover.
I'm not worth the truth,
I'm not worth common decency,
I'm not worth the air,
I'm not worth the money or the space.
When will my existence reach its worth?
On what scale do I have to be measured?
What are the standards and why can't I meet it?
How hard do I have to push?
How much do I have to do?
How much will it take for me to matter
to you?
I'm not talking about a certain you,
I'm asking the world?
I'm asking my reality.
What does it take for me to matter?
What does it take for my work to mean something?
How long do I have to fight to get a moments peace?
How much will it take for me to matter to you?
My existence has been devalued at every turn.
From a parent, from a friend, from a lover.
I'm not worth the truth,
I'm not worth common decency,
I'm not worth the air,
I'm not worth the money or the space.
When will my existence reach its worth?
On what scale do I have to be measured?
What are the standards and why can't I meet it?
Thursday, August 15, 2019
Irregular heartbeat
The human heart is so fickle.
Maybe sometimes it would be better if we were to live without it.
Sure our pulse would cease,
and our blood won't flow,
and yeah sure our brains would freeze
but maybe it is better to lose
than to live and love.
I'm looking for a sign, a reason,
a feeling to latch on to.
How can one person stand out above the rest,
and make you think that the world doesn't matter.
Maybe because I never truly loved.
I've never felt the heat of another heart,
the fingers interlacing and twining together,
there's only ghosts of love.
But love is a ghost.
A heart wrenching phantasm that stalks our dreams
and haunts the waking days.
It is a specter of life.
You abandon your friends for an embrace.
Family is seen as a barrier keeping you apart.
The world has no sympathy because he is the world.
Can one truly live a fulfilled life in the cage of another's heart and desire?
Bound to the dream of a lifetime,
the uncertain promise of forever?
Then what about the paradox of lust.
What separates the need for flesh,
from the desire for a person?
Sex blurs those lines.
Taking an eraser to boundaries, and wiping it all clean.
Sex leaves fingerprints,
in the heat of passion 'love' is said,
but is it truly meant?
Do you love the person
or do you love the flesh?
How can one differentiate an irregular heartbeat
as lust or love?
My heart can race for you,
but it can also race because of your touch.
How does the a four letter word change the rhythm?
Age doesn't make you wiser.
You aren't any wiser to love at ninety than you were at fourteen.
You never know better,
and we may never know.
Im frustrated, confused, lost in the feelings.
Watching people hurt others
because there isn't a power in earth stronger than love
but lust.
Maybe sometimes it would be better if we were to live without it.
Sure our pulse would cease,
and our blood won't flow,
and yeah sure our brains would freeze
but maybe it is better to lose
than to live and love.
I'm looking for a sign, a reason,
a feeling to latch on to.
How can one person stand out above the rest,
and make you think that the world doesn't matter.
Maybe because I never truly loved.
I've never felt the heat of another heart,
the fingers interlacing and twining together,
there's only ghosts of love.
But love is a ghost.
A heart wrenching phantasm that stalks our dreams
and haunts the waking days.
It is a specter of life.
You abandon your friends for an embrace.
Family is seen as a barrier keeping you apart.
The world has no sympathy because he is the world.
Can one truly live a fulfilled life in the cage of another's heart and desire?
Bound to the dream of a lifetime,
the uncertain promise of forever?
Then what about the paradox of lust.
What separates the need for flesh,
from the desire for a person?
Sex blurs those lines.
Taking an eraser to boundaries, and wiping it all clean.
Sex leaves fingerprints,
in the heat of passion 'love' is said,
but is it truly meant?
Do you love the person
or do you love the flesh?
How can one differentiate an irregular heartbeat
as lust or love?
My heart can race for you,
but it can also race because of your touch.
How does the a four letter word change the rhythm?
Age doesn't make you wiser.
You aren't any wiser to love at ninety than you were at fourteen.
You never know better,
and we may never know.
Im frustrated, confused, lost in the feelings.
Watching people hurt others
because there isn't a power in earth stronger than love
but lust.
Solar Sailor
A summer night that isn't muggy and hot.
Tired aching feet,
stiff legs,
sleepy eyes fading in and out.
The midnight fog mixing with tired blinks,
turning passing street lights and red car signals
into beams and ribbons.
Each ribbon races down an abandoned highway, no stars can be seen
but the moon is illuminated through my passenger window.
Music.
Fresh summer night breeze.
Warm heated seats.
I'm barely able to keep my eyes open.
Struggling,
gps in my lap, telling us to turn right.
We miss the turn but we keep sailing.
Passing darkened trees, glowing speedway lights
and highway lined restaurants.
We're dreaming of meatball sandwiches and kraft mac 'n cheese.
Passing more ribbons of streamline streetlights.
I'm hoping for a moment to close my eyes.
but the music keeps me awake.
Tired aching feet,
stiff legs,
sleepy eyes fading in and out.
The midnight fog mixing with tired blinks,
turning passing street lights and red car signals
into beams and ribbons.
Each ribbon races down an abandoned highway, no stars can be seen
but the moon is illuminated through my passenger window.
Music.
Fresh summer night breeze.
Warm heated seats.
I'm barely able to keep my eyes open.
Struggling,
gps in my lap, telling us to turn right.
We miss the turn but we keep sailing.
Passing darkened trees, glowing speedway lights
and highway lined restaurants.
We're dreaming of meatball sandwiches and kraft mac 'n cheese.
Passing more ribbons of streamline streetlights.
I'm hoping for a moment to close my eyes.
but the music keeps me awake.
Monday, June 17, 2019
Hello! It's me your tired and overworked writer!
I know poetry has been few and far between because I've been up to my ears in work thanks to the editing and redrafting I've been doing of my major novel: Blistering Moonlight! (and another lesser novella but that is on hiatus so don't worry about it)
Chapters 1-5 is up and ready to read, (and more forthcoming) so if you want to give my longer works a read go on over to https://www.wattpad.com/user/Midnight_Daydreaming to check it out! It helps me get my work out there and it could give some of you something good to read this summer whilst you chill.
Anyway I'm going to try to post more poetry to give more content in that department. Please bear with me.
Lysa :)
I know poetry has been few and far between because I've been up to my ears in work thanks to the editing and redrafting I've been doing of my major novel: Blistering Moonlight! (and another lesser novella but that is on hiatus so don't worry about it)
Chapters 1-5 is up and ready to read, (and more forthcoming) so if you want to give my longer works a read go on over to https://www.wattpad.com/user/Midnight_Daydreaming to check it out! It helps me get my work out there and it could give some of you something good to read this summer whilst you chill.
Anyway I'm going to try to post more poetry to give more content in that department. Please bear with me.
Lysa :)
Monday, May 27, 2019
Frustrated
How does one keep failing to try?
How is it that no matter how hard I push and I push,
shoving and pushing,
I get nowhere.
How do I keep failing to try?
A blog dedicated to poetry,
websites dedicated to getting my work out there,
callouts for those who need writers.
Working, working, working, working,
but I get stuck with nothing.
What do I have to do to get some recognition?
What do I have to do to get noticed?
What do I have to do to get someone, somewhere, to care just a little.
I'm trying, but I'm failing.
I'm failing to try.
I'm frustrated.
I don't know how far I have to reach,
how hard I need to push,
how much I need to change until I'm finally accepted by something.
I'll give up my vision,
I'll give up my plans,
I'll change it all
I just want something to remind me why,
can someone please remind me why I'm working my fingers to the bone.
Someone please tell me.
Please just someone...
someone please give me a reason to keep writing.
How is it that no matter how hard I push and I push,
shoving and pushing,
I get nowhere.
How do I keep failing to try?
A blog dedicated to poetry,
websites dedicated to getting my work out there,
callouts for those who need writers.
Working, working, working, working,
but I get stuck with nothing.
What do I have to do to get some recognition?
What do I have to do to get noticed?
What do I have to do to get someone, somewhere, to care just a little.
I'm trying, but I'm failing.
I'm failing to try.
I'm frustrated.
I don't know how far I have to reach,
how hard I need to push,
how much I need to change until I'm finally accepted by something.
I'll give up my vision,
I'll give up my plans,
I'll change it all
I just want something to remind me why,
can someone please remind me why I'm working my fingers to the bone.
Someone please tell me.
Please just someone...
someone please give me a reason to keep writing.
Tuesday, May 14, 2019
To the tune of a song you'll never hear
Twiddling feet.
Hanging moss, suspended from trees, frozen in a motionless sway.
Blue sky, no clouds.
Burning sun, no shadows.
Fingers typing, clicking against qwerty keys,
writing the deep emotion of others,
but as empty and as hollow as the cold metal desk rod pressing into her thigh.
There's the smell of coffee,
stomach rumbling,
thinking about fish tacos and churro sticks with chocolate.
Text messages asking for help,
but she can't provide it.
Trapped in a desk.
Trapped in her mind.
Empty, apathetic,
cold, unfeeling.
Dissociative from the whole world.
White shirt, dark brown hair with blonde highlights.
Green jacket with blonde hair.
Changing faces, lectures, desks.
Never the change in me.
Hanging moss, suspended from trees, frozen in a motionless sway.
Blue sky, no clouds.
Burning sun, no shadows.
Fingers typing, clicking against qwerty keys,
writing the deep emotion of others,
but as empty and as hollow as the cold metal desk rod pressing into her thigh.
There's the smell of coffee,
stomach rumbling,
thinking about fish tacos and churro sticks with chocolate.
Text messages asking for help,
but she can't provide it.
Trapped in a desk.
Trapped in her mind.
Empty, apathetic,
cold, unfeeling.
Dissociative from the whole world.
White shirt, dark brown hair with blonde highlights.
Green jacket with blonde hair.
Changing faces, lectures, desks.
Never the change in me.
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Life Update
Hey, sorry for the lack of poetry. I'm still a college student and I've been kind of swept up with school and working on my latest novel that I haven't had much time to write original pieces of poetry to add here.
I'm thinking of posting pages of my novel once I get to a place where I feel comfortable sharing the story, however I don't know where I would feel comfortable sharing that as a big fear of mine is people stealing my hard work. So, once I get a better and safe place to post and a starter audience willing to read I'll start opening up pages and chapters.
Until then please bear with me, I'll try to have some non-depressing poetry to share soon.
~Lysa
I'm thinking of posting pages of my novel once I get to a place where I feel comfortable sharing the story, however I don't know where I would feel comfortable sharing that as a big fear of mine is people stealing my hard work. So, once I get a better and safe place to post and a starter audience willing to read I'll start opening up pages and chapters.
Until then please bear with me, I'll try to have some non-depressing poetry to share soon.
~Lysa
Thursday, March 28, 2019
The opposite of me
The opposite of love is in fact hate.
I was once told the opposite of love is indifference,
but I feel only hate.
You bring out the worst in me,
And I don't know how to make it stop.
I don't know how to stop hating you,
or blaming you.
I want to feel that indifference,
but all I want is to make you share in my pain.
I was once told the opposite of love is indifference,
but I feel only hate.
You bring out the worst in me,
And I don't know how to make it stop.
I don't know how to stop hating you,
or blaming you.
I want to feel that indifference,
but all I want is to make you share in my pain.
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
Mood supressors
Smile, Smile, Smile.
Laugh, Laugh, Laugh.
Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.
I was proud of my championship belt,
being labeled as the queen of pretend.
Pretending to be happy,
pretending to be content,
pretending to be in love.
But now my game has crumbled,
I'm exposed as the pretender.
And for a while I hated it.
I hated being the one to be seen as the professional liar.
But now I'm in a better place.
With better people.
Donned with a new heart a new mind,
a new smile.
Yes I am broken.
Yes I am abused.
Yes I have been abandoned.
But that's okay.
I choose to wear my scars,
accept my broken heart.
Cause before I saw healing
as an acceptance to weakness,
as a perverse selfish act.
But no more.
I want to heal, I want to get better,
and that starts with an acceptance to my past weakness.
No matter how many steps forward I take,
I'm leaving behind the person I was.
But now we'll walk together as one.
This is my duality.
Laugh, Laugh, Laugh.
Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.
I was proud of my championship belt,
being labeled as the queen of pretend.
Pretending to be happy,
pretending to be content,
pretending to be in love.
But now my game has crumbled,
I'm exposed as the pretender.
And for a while I hated it.
I hated being the one to be seen as the professional liar.
But now I'm in a better place.
With better people.
Donned with a new heart a new mind,
a new smile.
Yes I am broken.
Yes I am abused.
Yes I have been abandoned.
But that's okay.
I choose to wear my scars,
accept my broken heart.
Cause before I saw healing
as an acceptance to weakness,
as a perverse selfish act.
But no more.
I want to heal, I want to get better,
and that starts with an acceptance to my past weakness.
No matter how many steps forward I take,
I'm leaving behind the person I was.
But now we'll walk together as one.
This is my duality.
Monday, January 7, 2019
I'm back
Hey guys, gals, and nonbinary pals!
Sorry I've been gone so long, I've been in a bad place mentally for a while and I took a break to focus on my mental health. Now I'm doing better and I'll be returning with more poetry.
Thank you for bearing with me and I hope you all stick around!
-Lysa
Sorry I've been gone so long, I've been in a bad place mentally for a while and I took a break to focus on my mental health. Now I'm doing better and I'll be returning with more poetry.
Thank you for bearing with me and I hope you all stick around!
-Lysa
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