Most of my life
I’ve been on the back burner
Still functioning, but only in peripherals
The pretty one
(Like I chose my genetics)
The smart one
(Look this up for me)
The strong one
(You’ll survive)
The good listener
(Even when it’s really none of my business)
There have been moments
When I felt a soul’s connection-
A kindred who saw me
A spark in the dim
A heart to hold hands with
Even that didn’t last…
I am not anyone’s priority, and I am learning to become my own.
Maybe you won’t recognize me
This time.
Latest
Priority
Beautiful
I have a strange relationship
With the word “beautiful”.
Now, I know this is
Supposed to be
A compliment,
Is a rite of passage for some-
But, when I am called beautiful,
I seldom feel a lift in mood,
That word puts me on alert…
Every time someone wants something
From me, it always starts with “beautiful”-
As if attraction is an excuse for abuse,
For ignorance of my boundaries, or of my emotional state.
I am not ungrateful that my physical presence is treasured,
Though, I notice…
So many enjoy looking at me,
But the conversation grows stale
When I try to interact,
When I move from a decoration to a soul.
I don’t speak to deaf ears.
I’m not a fucking decoration.
I’m a frustrated woman.
More than beautiful,
Alive.
~Antanya
Entanglement
I fall into awareness,
Presence.
Chills through my limbs
And down my spine…
I see you,
In my mind’s eye-
It’s been a long time
Want to stay,
Safe and welcome-
Send my love,
And hope it catches
A trace of you.
Moth
You are everywhere I am.
I am draped in your presence,
Shivers down my spine
And warmth in my heart…
The rage and sorrow
Intertwine
With love and adoration.
I know the hand that reaches,
And though you beckon
Where I can’t follow,
I am mesmerized by the synergy-
I’ve always been fascinated with flame.
Existential Dread
…And people tell you to follow your dreams, but when you think of dreams, all you see is black, empty nothing, because all you’ve ever hoped for was to make it, and you did, but you didn’t… And what is there to reach for, when all you have energy for is breathing, and when you want to talk, they want to yell, or fight, or fuck, or anything but fucking listen…
I get dramatic when I’m sick and tired…
Forgive me.
I talk to myself,
Because I know
I’m the only one
Who will listen.
My throat
And my fingers ache,
Heavy with the words
I can’t seem to find-
I miss you
So fucking much.
I know that if we
Are truly connected,
You are never really gone…
I see your hand reaching for me,
But all I can do is bleed,
I hear you, calling,
But I can’t speak.
I swallow my feelings
In my dry throat
And wish that I could cry.
I talk to myself,
Because I know
I’m the only one
Who will listen.
Fractured
Iridescent shards
Of my past
Stick in the callouses
On the bottoms
Of my soiled feet,
I try so hard to step
Gently, purposefully-
Then brush the shards
Away from my skin,
Pain persists
And the microscopic
Daggers still embed
Their way into me,
The bloody remnants
Of fear
Leave me raw,
Restless and uncertain-
Lost in me,
Again.
Mercy
I forgive myself,
No longer burdened
With the guilt of past
Loneliness,
Or how we staved it off.
I see now
How I have kept myself
Small,
Folded me into a note
That could fit in your pocket,
Just to feel your warmth.
I forgive myself:
For forgetting
I have my own,
And for seeking it
Elsewhere.
For limiting my
Experience,
Making everything scarce
So that I could see
More of you.
I forgive myself-
I forgive you.
I love myself-
And I love you.
~Antanya
Watercolor
You will always
Find me
Where the light
Fades, melds
Into dark…
Autumnal soul-
Forever diving
Into the galaxies
In my mind,
In your heart…
Watercolor emotion,
Bleeding into black.
Through the Fog poetry 