muse poems stories

lexitrains of thought |
Autoplay OFF  •  2 years ago
how to lose yourself for the quality of your poems


by lexi

it is not his birthday.

i think of him anyways.

how it used to be to feel raging suns in my chest

like newborn kindling

what it is like to hurt intensely, so that you can taste it

smell it inhabit the fibers of your core.

what it is like to always have something

to write poetry about

i think of him anyways.

assuring myself that i am content with solace

and i am, i am

content with solace.

it is just harder to write when the only person i can use

as a proper muse

is myself.

so i think of him anyways.

until these words are not my own & this heart is not my home

because when you have allowed yourself to deteriorate so deeply into you diary entries no longer

are you capable of writing new ones.

so you wait until his birthday

when it is acceptable to emotionally collapse for the sake of

one. good. poem.

but you know — i know — you will still write of him anyways

when it is not his birthday.

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