anxiety

She

She.

An amalgam of broken pieces

Shoved and glued back together.

It’s not quite right

Something’s off.

All cracks and crevices

And missing bits…

 

But this is no tragedy.

 

She

Has more surface area for love.

More room to connect

Fluent in empathy

A master of compassion

So much taken.

So much more to give.

 

She.

A humble soul

Resilient and vulnerable

Present and feeling

Scarred and lovely

A treasure not to look at,

But instead one to see.

 

She.

 

-Elle

#poetryfromthenotpoet

To all of the people I’ve taken the time to look at, but never really saw.

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Humble Me

Humble me,

Life.

I’m way too high

I’m far too happy.

Shake me up,

Cut me down.

I’m thriving, see

Light on my feet

Cheeky grin.

I feel good

Too good.

Do your thing.

Put me in check.

Break my heart.

Crush my spirit.

Remind me.

To live is to suffer.

Life,

Remind me.

Don’t let me get too far

Don’t let me get used to this.

Do it now.

If you wait too long

I might not survive the fall.

Do it now,

Life.

Humble me.

 

-Elle

#Poetryfromthenotpoet

Friends! It’s been a minute! I was going through it majorly last night time I posted. Guess what? Still am. Know what else? Still breathing. 😉 Also, this poem sounds kind of dark, but it doesn’t feel that way. I do believe we all need to be humbled now and then… perhaps not at the spirit crushing level though. This is written from that too-good-to-be-true perspective. You know, when everything is going so right that you get kind of nervous? I haven’t been there in while! I’m definitely on the recently humbled side of things, but they say it’s a roller coaster, right?

Careful

Demons fly around your skull

Whispering evil things

You’re worthless.

You don’t belong here.

You fight them valiantly

With prayers and kind thoughts

But they’re relentless

They tell you crazy lies

You know you shouldn’t believe

But they never tire

They never stop

They smell your tiniest weakness

A little crack in your exterior,

They dig in

And rot your insides

Like a cavity.

No dentist, no doctor

Can fix this

Their poison is sticky and foul

It mutates your soul

You’re on the edge

Of an infinite black hole

Careful, Love

Careful.

 

-Elle

#Poetryfromthenotpoet

Assure me.

You’ve done everything right

You’ve gone by the book

You’ve played by the rules…

But somehow you feel unfulfilled

It seems like everyone around you is living their best life

And you’re just here

Existing.

Not that that isn’t something to appreciate…

But still.

You fight away dirty words like “unwanted” and “unloved”

Toxic little beasts

They lie to you in the night.

Those words…

They’re liars.

…Right?

 

-Elle

P.S. friends, strangers, lurkers… In case you need reminding… You are so loved.

Feel, Don’t Touch

My truth is hidden in the darkness.

A firecracker encased in blackness

Sparkling, crackling, and emoting

In a sound proof room.

Monsters with no eyes lurk there,

Desperately seeking something they will never find.

They cannot tell day from night

They cannot tell salt from sugar

And yet, I fear them still.

 

Brave adventurers scour the darkness in pursuit of my secrets.

They have much in common with the monsters.

Cannot see.

Cannot hear.

But they can smell…

Rain. Ocean. Tears.

Can almost taste it…

Earth. Water. Salt.

The scents are transformative.

They are also distracting.

 

My truth is hidden in the darkness.

Only one sense can be used to find it.

Dear adventurer,

Close your eyes

Plug your ears

Overwhelm every taste bud

Every scent receptor

Clear your mind, open your heart.

Meld with the blackness. Be silent now.

It’s just there…

You can’t touch it, but you can feel it.

Magnificent. Tragic. Light. Heavy.

Tell me, can you feel it?

Complex. Simple. Fiery. Cool.

Tell me, can you feel me?

 

-Elle

Today’s not-so-secret: I am not a poet. I know nothing about poetry. (can you tell? haha) I don’t even particularly enjoy reading it. What happens is, see… I fill up with words. They fall out. I dump most of them into what wants to a be novel. The scraps… well, they are what they are. I am profoundly emotional (#becausehuman), but it’s not socially acceptable to publicly feel all your feelings. Mostly I think that’s good (there’s enough drama out there already). Hopefully for me, stock piling emotion will result in a pretty piece of written work one day. That, or a melodramatic pile of entertainment. Either or. Either or, my friends. 🙂

Peace to you!