introversion

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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Quiet One

For my deep feelers

Empaths.

For everyone with minds so full

And mouths sewn shut

Such a heavy weight

Such a desire to connect

Such resistance.

People misunderstand you

Antisocial, they say

Boring, they think

It’s laughable, really

Your voice is quiet

But your soul is loud

Your demeanor is soft

But your heart is fierce

You are worth patience.

My love.

You have something unique to give

So much time observing

So much time listening

Understanding leaks from your pores

Compassion flows through your veins

You get people

You learn them slowly.

You learn them deeply.

The ones who notice you

Who engage you…

What a treat for you both

What a rarity.

The ones who don’t

Whether unkind, or simply oblivious

You learn from them.

Think of it as a gift

You take a lesson on humanity from them

They take nothing from you.

 

-Elle

P.S. Wavered on that last line so much because when people fail to notice you, when you aren’t given the time of day, when you feel invisible… that hurts and absolutely CAN take something from you. An overactive anxious mind can dwell on something like that -literally- for years, so I definitely don’t mean to diminish that. I just decided to write that the way I want it to be, and the way it ought to be. Because really, it’s something we shouldn’t give two flying shits about 😉

 

#Poetryfromthenotpoet