percussion heart

Communication is key. And if we don't express our love freely, we will start to forget that it's there.

Does she love me? Does she love me or has she lost herself through the curvature of my lips and gave up on finding the way out? Does she ever look at me and fear the same from me? Does she love the familiarity in my touch, or is it just that; familiar? I feel joy in tracing my fingers across her skin, knowing each and every bump and scar to expect on the way, like the map to my favorite city. But sometimes I just wonder if she'd like a change of scenery. Or is this exactly what keeps our love alive? The fear tingling in our bones and the purity of doubt in constant hopes to never let go; to never get sick of one another?

I look at you, and I see the beautiful past that we both cherished together. We shared some of the greatest memories and we were the best versions of ourselves together. But honey, things change; we've learned and we've lost, and when I look at you, I can't see a future anymore -- not like I used to. And that's okay; we had a good run, and it's time for us to move forward.

We've been distant. I didn't say anything. Well at first, I did, but I think it drove you farther away. It's like there's this faint barrier -- transparent enough to just barely see through, but solid enough to spark a fire from a finger's touch. The spark... it isn't the butterflies-in-your-stomach kind or a rainbow-of-fireworks-above-our-heads kind; it's more like the shocking burn of a hot stove or pressing against an icicle for too long. But at first, I kept trying to get through, letting the burns scar my skin, as long as it could get me back to you. But eventually, the scars bled, and you never tried to come and help heal my wounds. Eventually I became too exhausted, too burnt, too disappointed. See, eventually, the light I had on for you began to flicker; barely alive; but still it awakened at every foggy glimpse of your silhouette, only to be let down once again. Now, at this point, I don't know if I'll need to put it to sleep or not, or if I'll ever know when the right time I should comes. But am I naïve for having a small part of me still hoping for an ignition?

I've always longed for this feeling. It never failed to terrify me to my bones, but it won't ever fail to boil the blood in my veins with an irresistible lust for the way it burns either. I've searched everywhere for this feeling; down every corridor, along paths of destruction and paths of purity, I've searched through the cute girl with the pretty smile's eyes, or in the swaying moves of that dancer I was positive I'd met before. The feeling was found in different states, different ways, and sometimes when it was never even expected. Sometimes it'd knock me off my feet, and other times it'd bring cries of help barely getting heard because they almost didn't want to be... but it was never quite right. Something was always missing or simply not enough; sometimes it was like I was focusing too much on keeping it more than enjoying it. I almost straightened my sleeves and gave up... but not until I met you. When I met you, I knew, and I couldn't even believe it. I can't believe it. It's funny because none of it even makes sense but somehow it all fits together perfectly, and I know now that I was chasing the wrong things all along. It's not just the terrifying but mesmerizing feeling I've been longing -- it's the complete and utter certainty of its presence where it doesn't matter if you go away, because the feeling never will. I will love you until the end of time and I have no intention to ever search for anything else. My love for you is enough. Your existence is enough.

I do not need you, but I would like to know if you will still be there when it's just a little harder on my own. I do not need you; I have, I can, and I will face my battles alone, no matter how hard it gets, even if it'll take a bit longer than it should. I have more wounds than I can count but they have healed more beautifully on their own than they ever will with your gentle kisses. I do not need you to tell me that it'll be okay; I know it will be, because I believe in myself -- if you're gonna be an important part of my life, I'll only need you to believe in me too. I don't need you to tell me what to do and what not to do; if I am making a terrible mess, I will clean it myself. I'd like you to be there to keep me company, but I don't need you to. It's taken me awhile to see that as important as depending on myself is, it is still okay to ask for help. It is not shameful or weak. I may have survived alone, but it was a tough ride and maybe it could've ended a little sooner had I taken a hand or two. Still, I survived, I grew, and I strived; I never needed help. I do not need your help. It would just be nice to have it anyway.

Your eyes... I hear them singing to me again, but I don't recognize the melody. It's softer; more soothing. Your eyes witnessed a scary journey with me and it showed on them like they were stars of a hit musical; they always sounded beautiful but tragic and hurt. I hear them now and something's changed... they're still adjusting to the new notes but there's a sparkle like spotlight of confidence, bliss, and love. There's something so fascinating about growth; how it changes and shapes a person, and I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm happy where we've come, where we are, and where I'm hoping we'll continue to be. Just like this; calm, peaceful, and together in synchronized harmony... like the two stars of a hit musical and we're our very own standing ovation.

I can finally be happy, yet I don't know how to. True bliss is so unfamiliar to me, it's almost funny - isn't this what I wanted to be? I promised myself I'd change to the better, and now that I have been, I don't know how to enjoy it. I've grown this habit now of biting and peeling my lips 'cause I need to have something I can ruin. Sure, I still find darkness lurking around more corners than it should, but it's almost like I find comfort in it now. I see that light I've been chasing my whole life at the end of the tunnel - it's far, but I see it - yet I can't make any sense of it. What does it mean when everything is right but it feels so wrong - or you're too afraid that it will become wrong? How sad is it to think that we feel safer with grey clouds hovering over us than we do on a bright and sunny day?

Hi, I'm Casey, I’m starting this poetry blog for people to post their works. When people send poetry in they can dictate whether they want feedback or not, and what kind they want. Please submit so I can get this off the ground. Let’s make art together.

I watched her chewing ice cubes while she scrolled up and down on her phone. She was playfully swinging her legs and her feet were dressed in purposely mismatched socks -- yellow and red, they were. I chuckled and thought, 'what an odd person I've come to known.' She turned to me with furrowed eyebrows and icy lips, "what?" she asked.  I took a moment to capture her casual but magnificent existence and I said, "you're poetry. It would be a mighty privilege to write you."

You can tell yourself that you've moved on from her, so you do. You tell yourself you've moved on, you ignore songs that remind you of her, and you pretend you don't see her status updates on social media because it convinces you that it's helping you sleep at night. But there's that tiny moment, that half a second when you first see these things; the first half a second of her favorite song or a quick glimpse of her from an old photo or a Snapchat update. In this half a second, you're aware. It's quick and you push it away immediately, but you're aware, because you know that if you moved on, you wouldn't be pushing her away so hard. It's like you physically feel the empty space she once filled getting bigger somehow, where you can almost hear the echoes of you calling out her name. You don't want to think about it, so you don't. But in that tiny moment, you know that there is no amount of books, distractions, or burning cigarettes that will ever fill that void again. And every time that moment hits you, it's like a dagger striking at your heart all over again. Don't blind yourself to her. Please listen to me. Adore her beauty and existence like you once did, and let her in, in order to then truly let her go. And maybe then, you can grow a garden from the remains of her residing in that void and create beauty, instead of letting it all rot and creating agony. Please listen to me this time. Please don't go spiraling down because of her.

Do you remember it like I do? Do you remember how our souls first collided into one? I remember it because I laid my eyes on you, and suddenly, I knew that I believed in soulmates. I remember it because I could never forget the way I looked at you, and it was like my heart said, “Ah. There you are.”