Ode to the beautiful broken ballerino

to the boy with the sunshine smile

and feather-light feet

who turns and pirouettes with every single heartbeat.

you've got me weak on the knees,

my lungs feel like collapsing

but i don't mind the way

that you take my breath away.

when you said you wanted to dance,

what did the world have in store?

bright lights and adoring fans,

are these what you asked for?

but whatever path that has led you to me,

i'm thankful that it has made me see -

see you in your beautiful form

of grace and of passion,

of silly bubbling laughter,

of warmth and of the most powerful emotion.

(tell me, is it love?)

but it's okay, dream boy.

i do not deserve an explanation.

---

inspired by the video above and this article. 

Joaquin Zihuatanejo - "Final Exam for My Father"

This. 

This has broken me in more ways than one and sewn back all my pieces together again in a painful yet utterly beautiful way. I don't only mean this because I can relate to the poet, but I can feel his passion, his emotions, his pain, and they have all seeped into my bones and suck the marrow out of me but at the same time, brought me back to life. I was a leaky faucet at the first few lines but then the tears just started spilling uncontrollably. I couldn't help them. They were a testament to all the things I've been hiding from people. This is the most inspiring video I have seen in a long while and I can only wish that I had the guts and the talent to do this as well.

Ugh, beautiful human beings.

"10) I do not love you anymore." 

1) Today, I woke up at 4:17 a.m, 43 minutes earlier than I should have.
2) I spent those 43 minutes staring at darkness and trying not to think about you.
3) I failed. You infiltrated my thoughts like poison.
4) I quietly padded to my bathroom and tried to wash away the pain of yesterday.
5) Sadly, cold water couldn’t soothe the fire in my veins and it couldn’t stop my boiling anger.
6) I ate your words and drank silence for breakfast.
7) I went to school with an empty stomach and an even emptier heart.
8) I have come to a conclusion. The first half of the conclusion is that I do not love you any less.
9) The second half is the title of this poem.

♕

 I'm still writing poems for you.

Untitled

I want to go to poetry readings someday and listen to lovely people read their lovely poems out loud and for people to hear mine as well. As of the moment though, this is all I'm capable of. 

{text is under the jump break}

i am free to write the worst junk in the world,
i am free to write without destination.
i am free to write the saddest lines,
i am free to write about the things that make me happy.
i am free to write for myself,
i am free to slip poems into my friends’ pockets.
i am free to use clichés,
i am free to step out of my comfort zone.
(every week i lose two to three pens)
i am free to lose pens,
i am free to cry over losing pens.
i am free to be melodramatic,
i am free to judge myself for exaggerating.
i am free to keep everything inside,
i am free to let loose.
i am free to act childish,
i am free to act my age.
i am free to think for myself,
i am free to ponder over the thoughts and opinions of others.
i am free to scoff at religion,
i am free to believe in something greater than me
(greater than life itself).
i am free to make my own decisions,
i am free to be indecisive.
i am free to see, hear, touch, taste, feel, think, love, love, love.
i am free to be human.
i am free yet somehow, i still feel trapped.

chryss s., "invisible bonds"

This one’s for the girls
who fumble with words when they talk
so they choose to write instead
because they are awkward when they speak
but passionate when handed pen and paper.
This one’s for the girls
who spent their time reading books
instead of playing with dolls,
for the girls who read under the covers
way past lights out
just to finish a chapter,
just for their eyes to be strained,
just to be left hanging,
just to feel a surge of relief,
just to lose themselves in a world beyond their reach.
This one’s for the girls
who grew up watching the two people who swore before the altar to love each other unconditionally
fight and make each other cry,
for the girls
who grew used to doors slamming,
to their mothers weeping,
to their fathers coming home during ungodly hours,
to forced smiles and suffocating hugs and no more stolen kisses.
This one’s for the girls
who endured it all
who never gave up even though they had reasons to surrender,
for the girls who chose to make lemonade
instead of making sour faces.
This one’s for the girls
who’ve never been in a relationship
but have had their hearts broken in more ways than one
by the people they care for and love most.
This one’s for the girls
who cry over petty things
like stray kittens
and empty promises
and last episodes
and the Pacific Ocean
and no more banana milk.
This one’s for the girls
who have turned themselves inside and out
hoping to find even just a little piece of beauty
jutting out from the ugliness that they shroud themselves in.
This one’s for the girls
with a plethora of emotions and feelings
both wanted and unwanted
both kept and unhidden
both wanting to fly high into the sky and sink into the deepest layers of the earth.
This one’s for the girls
who are hopeful but doubtful
who are strong yet weak
who are lethargic but driven
who are proud yet meek.
This one’s for the girls
who are splitting at the seams with dreams
but are being put down by the burdensome weight of reality
and have yet to wake up from their reverie.
I am no special snowflake,
so this goes out to all the girls
who are just like me.

Audio Recorded Poem #1

This is a first and I am scared but I hope you guys like it.