daily prompt · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

You know what they say…

 

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I know I don’t look like much.
Almost like one gentle touch
would break a bone.
And I know you’re worried I might break.
As if one blow is all it’d take
to make me fall to pieces.
I see that everyone is doubting me.
Living with an ideology
that small things are not powerful.

You know what they say about assumptions.
Watch me conquer your presumptions
and then laugh at you.

You big asshole.

{via daily prompt: assumption}

daily prompt · love · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

see ya depression

Well this is awkward…
You caught me with my mask off.
Sun-kissed wind caress,
face exploding in a soft
laugh, forgetting the mess
of daily life.

Well this is awkward…
I forgot to care about you this morning.
Blinded by free happiness
and forgot I’m in mourning,
but I just don’t miss
you.

I think I’d rather love myself instead.

{via daily prompt}

love · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

here

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There are parts of my heart
scattered in each place I’ve been.
You see, travel does this funny thing.
It reminds you of the complexities in this world.
Cobbled streets lead to collosal castles
streets sprinkled in sorrow,
history and happiness too.
There’s nothing I would rather do.

Human connection is the aspect of adventure
that lives in the heart of each traveller.
The appreciation of beauty that notices
this door is closed but damn, it’s beautiful.
What lesson can be learned here?
That the little joys of life appear
in the middle of something unexpected?
I love that.

Travel is something I hold dear,
And you will always find a piece of my heart

here.

daily prompt · love · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

Infect

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Infect
[in-fekt]
to imbue with some pernicious belief, opinion, etc.; to influence feeling or action

Slithering snake of society,
Tactless tundra of intolerance,
You think you control me?
You think you hold the strength
to infect me with your filth?
Incessant ideologies of ignorance,
Persistantly trying to penetrate, and yet
Your walls do not close on me.
I am a warrior woman.
Strong in stature and stamina
Blasting through your bullshit.
Fuck your fake foolish fantasies
About who I’m meant to be.
Do not think for one moment that you
Hold the power to infect me.

via Daily Prompt: Infect

daily prompt · love · mental health · napowrimo · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

flowers and castles

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standing at the base of a castle
i am reminded that life is nothing without the
seeds that grow the
plants that feed the
humans who built the
structures within which we need
castles.

how many others have stopped to appreciate the
colours that run through the
veins of you and the
connection that binds our histories together.

standing at the base of a castle and
capturing the beauty of flowers while
knowing we have
nothing and
everything
in common.

daily prompt · love · mental health · napowrimo · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

quarter pieces

cut me into fractions, here is how I bleed
split into parts, ready to proceed

quarter piece broken, dirty eyes down below
under guise of procedure, no heed to my no

quarter piece guarded, unbreakable wall
waiting for disasters to make landfall

quarter piece survivor, crawl on my knees
seeking sanctuary in the breadth of your trees

quarter piece traveller, passport in hand
save myself from the brink of no man’s land

i am more than the sum of these parts, i agree
but without knowing these parts you’ll never know me

daily prompt · love · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery · travel

warning bells

i am trying to explain flashbacks to you without sounding ludicrous.
it doesn’t matter this was years ago.
it doesn’t matter that it could have been worse.
the terror lies partly in those coulds,
the insidious possibilities that stole my safety from me.

i don’t know how to explain that i know it’s not helpful.
my panic. my overabundance of caution.
the gnawing reminder that the security of home is merely
an illusion.

i am trying to imagine your response when i tell you
i hold these flashbacks in one hand and positivity in another.
these new traits that cracked my soul and let empathy out.
these memories that finetuned the strings of my street-smarts.

the warning bells might never go away.
and i’m trying to envision how you might
love that part of me too.

{via daily prompt}