The space between everything and nothing. That’s where we’re stuck. Because we are the thudding of our hearts, the colors in our eyes, the languages we speak.
We are the seasons and how they change, drifting from one to another. We are everything from dark to light skin from short to knee-length hair. We are the memories we make. We are beauty and trust. We are everything.
But we are also deeply rooted with nothingness to our cores, because we are questions unanswered. We are the emptiness in the air, the sobs we bare. We are nothing, and I mean it. Because we are lost, confused and we are hurting. We are ants in a farm, machines at work. We are not just one but billions dating back into history. We are not immortal, but we die and fade and disappear and we are certainly not remembered, not the way we want ourselves to be.
We are hanging between everything and nothing. I have no idea who I am. I tend to feel more like nothing though. Is that bad?-H
And we will bleed into the city.
Our souls will start to disintegrate.
Under heavy skies,
Clothes dripping wet in the rain.
Your eyes holding storms inside.
Bringing the fantasies we concoct to life.
An exchange of words, not much to say.
Tounges clashing as fingernails are dragged across skin.
A blank canvas is filled with Inc.
Memories painted across walls in black and white.
They show signs of you and I.-H
We often put people into boxes. Nonexistent, made up, nothing close to reality. Boxes.
The first impression doesn’t matter when it comes the inner contents of the box labeled with a particular persons name.
It’s the memories. Those that are stronger seem to dominate. They take up most of the space. When it comes to you my box is filled with an abundance of emotions. One overlapping the other, fighting for space when there is only so much I can give.
Your box is overflowing with the smell of caffeine and pancakes in the morning, it is loaded with the warmth of your arms as they sit bound around my shoulders, safety. Raindrops dripping from your lashes as smoke fills our lungs, your box is the first cigarette that loosely hung from my lips.
Your box is a bunch of Lavender’s in a vase on the kitchen counter for when I come home and it’s watching anime till’ four in the morning when we end up snoring on each others shoulders, just to wake up with sore backs the next day.
Your box is also throwing things and watching them slam against the walls forming irreplaceable cracks in the white, it’s screaming at the top of my lungs and begging you to stay. It’s watching you and her, hand in hand as scars start to form in mine.
Your box is saying goodbye because there’s nothing else left for me to say. It’s packing up and getting out of your way, of her way.
Some boxes are better left sealed, shut tight. And I’m trying to forget, but the box I build for you has stuck to me over time like glue and forgetting might just be impossible.-H
And I am no longer the girl in the picture frame sat atop your fireplace. The one with long hair, a smile showing teeth and skin soft as silk glowing under the warm summer sun. Glistening eyes under the light as my head rests upon your shoulder.
I don’t smile like that anymore and I almost never go outside. You still call to see if I’m alright. And I often say I’m fine. Then the line goes dead and my head slides back in the position it was a while ago, against the window. Staring at the sun as the rays shoot past trees, the warmth it brings gives rise to memories I had buried deep inside. Memories of you and I. -H
Hey guys I just wanted to put in this little note type thingy at the end. So I reached a total of 1000 likes on my blog and that’s huge, at least for me it is. Because I never imagined I could get to where I am today, I’ve always thought of myself as a total flop in general.
I’ve always been clumsy and I’m super tall and awkward and I don’t do well when it comes to social situations. The list of my imperfections goes a long way and I’d hate to bore you so I’m just going to get to the point. I may be bad at almost everything I do but writing is something I truly believe I’m good at. And no I’m not the best and I can’t ever be the best because there will always be someone better than me out there and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, it just means I have more people to look up to and learn from.
I’m truly grateful for every single person that has taken the time to read my writing. You are amazing and you matter and I appreciate you. If any of you guys ever want someone to just talk to leave me a comment and we’ll talk, if you’re ever down or feel alone just come to me and I’d love to hear you out.
Once again thank you for blowing my mind with your amazing support and helping me reach my goals.-H
There are poets who write about the collision of atoms, the laws of the cosmos meaning the laws of the universe itself, the forming of constellations and then they compare it to the love they have for their significant other.
I can’t seem to do that. I mean have you looked up at the sky? That giant never-ending monstrosity, the void that is the universe. And I don’t mean staring at pictures of the stars through a mobile screen then writing poetry about how they shine so brightly.
I mean the planets, I mean what a telescope shows you. I mean looking up as soon as you’re out from under a roof. Just looking up.
And some people are too afraid of the universe to ever look up, they say it makes them feel small. It makes them shrink into themselves. And I understand that, but at the same time I don’t.
Because at the same time I know that when I look up at the sky it’s a constant reminder of how large I truly am. Because I myself am a part of the fucking universe. And the universe is a part of me. The very molecules that make our body mass are the molecules found in the center of high mass stars that exploded into the galaxy. How amazing is that? How fucking amazing.
Because the following are the very words of a genius himself,
“We are all connected to each other biologically, to the Earth chemically and to the rest of the universe, atomically.” -Neil deGrasse Tyson
How does that make you feel? Knowing you are not nothing but a part of the galaxy.-H