poetry

WOVEN IN THE WRONG STITCH

And all of these things? They have created space. Allowed me to fill the darkness with better. Trusting that everything I once grasped too tightly to was just woven in the wrong stitch. While I unthread to remake, I remember the new space I’m creating between my finger tips. The way the openness feels in the morning, like you can take on the world. It’s the way the same vast feeling that practically swallows you whole by night time. It’s the power you feed into darling, don’t you know? When the light illuminates the darkness it doesn’t happen immediately. It trickles in, covering all the dark spaces with color. Slowly the colors unravel in the morning sky and you can not only feel, but sense the power. Light always wins, just keep looking for the small threads...

SUMMER’S KISS

There was always a parade of picnics And soul music And posing by public pools And knowing the electric slide   Fair street fights and foot races ran parallel to corner store hangouts And block party hookups   We played Hopscotch in flip flops And fell out of Philadelphian trees   And then I got too close to that beautiful boy at the beach In my favorite blue bikini On the ruddy boardwalk Above stacks of seaweed and salt water taffy   We stood blushing And face to face our knobby knees sticking out from under our second hand shorts our summer kiss already floating On a surface of air At the center of the ocean   Becoming wishes Waiting to be blown away   This is when I was red t-shirts with no sleeves On green bikes With boys who used to be friends watching us like new women...

THE WORLD HUMS SWEETLY: REFLECTIONS OF A DIGITAL NOMAD

Sleeping Naked on Plastic Arriving in Bangkok with no money. At least, not enough to buy sheets for this small apartment. The waterproof mattress sticks to my skin so I cover it with silk scarves. I bundle some clothes into some other clothes for a lumpy pillow. I am so happy. Falling asleep naked. The window looks over the Chao Phraya River as the city moves and I dream of you. Little comfort is needed when you are 24 with love shimmering. ————————- 27 and Sometimes Concerned About Capitalism Otherwise thinking about love or food or myself. I met an Italian girl in Las Palmas and we were both confused about Spanish men. We drank cappuccinos every day at La Olive and talked, frustrated about these bastardos who stopped texting us back. The we...

LONG LOST LOVE AFFAIRS WITH MY CAR

Rubbing half smeared-eyeliner farther across my cheek as I rise out of my luke-warm, limp-pillowed, insomnia ridden bed.   Press the chilled doorknob of my mother’s house; as I pull forward I rip open the security and prison of my saffron and sage warmed upbringing:   enter the cold unknown, enter the dampness on the rugged dark path ahead of me, enter the sweet smell of the roses with small teardrop of dew waiting for morning dust to kiss them, enter the cold clinking of keys that I fumbling with determination between my chipped-nails and anemia   Atticus is cold and takes time to warm up to me I turn on my favorite tune-on to break the awkward silence I caress him, my own legs, tighten my ass muscles and sit up straight   Headlights on here we go.   I swerve down...

TO ALL THE ONES WE LOVED AND LOST

there is loneliness, and there is heartbreak – in between that, there is loss.   i don’t know what it means to be bereaved, i don’t know what it is like to feel death. but i do know this – i know what it feels like to watch a loved one slip past your fingers (helplessly) i know what it feels like to try and try and try again but silence is the only word from the other end (it rings so loudly inside my head)   there is an aching in your bones and you are tired from the weight. there is still a heart beating inside your ribcage – yet why does it feel so faint?   it is broken; you are aware. it is a miracle you can still live. the other person has taken a piece – ripped off so cruelly, without a thought to spare.   how can that be? i nev...

LOVE LETTER TO MYSELF

LOVE LETTER TO MYSELF After Ocean Vuong/After Frank O’Hara/After Roger Reeves   Darling, don’t be afraid. You have ended so many times only to begin again in the morning. Your pain is only a burning reminder that you have legs that can carry you through hell, and can stand proudly in heaven. Darling, are you listening? The most beautiful parts of your body are the parts you had to grow again after plucking them to put in a bouquet for someone who who did not have the capacity to water them. The man whose arms were wide enough to hold both you and your shadow were the same arms that would tattoo your pain in invisible ink—so that you would know it is there, staining your skin, but no one else could see it. You would scrub and scrub yourself raw at what looked like your own skin— and ye...

A BROKEN RHAPSODY

This is her story. This is my story. This is many girls’ story. A rising anxiety. A devastating envy. A awful jealousy. A low self esteem. Why her? Not me? Is she better than me? All you want is that love in his eyes. That acknowledgement from the crowd. Distorted body in a broken mirror. You search and search. What is wrong with me? Mum says you are beautiful, you deserve the world. Dad says to follow your heart. Sister say to be wise. What does your soul say? Be happy. I want to be happy. Break the mirror for good. Take a stand. Love yourself. Why do men love other women? Because they love themselves. Why does your family loves you? Because you love you. And it is only you. You, you, you. You thought those words, big forehead, hippopotamus, too nice, too dumb you heard as a teenager woul...

DO I?

I cry and I scream and I fight because I love you and I hate you all at the same time. And I let my insecurities coat out conversations like a thick molasses and I STICK to these feelings. Because I love you, Because I love you, Because I love you. Either that or I’ve gotten really good at manipulating that feeling the second time around.     Author: Tea Campbell Email: tearcampbell@gmail.com Author Bio: Tea is an aspiring writer from Columbus, Ohio.  She bides her time as a corporate representative on weekdays. She is driven by her love of words and the sharing of her favorites with like-minded women. She’s inspired by love, connections and the journey to a better well-being. While she’s still figuring out how she fits in the cogs of the social media machine, you can...

THE UNKNOWN

Sometimes knowing is not the answer but the unknown is what we all crave for The mystery keeps us alive   The insatiable nature of a human is very puzzling yet resides in the every corner of a person unsatisfied no matter what we do   When you’re born you’re curious about the new worldly things that surround you From the small particle of dust, to the huge human with a lovely smile on her lips, From the small speck of light, to the big old eyes talking gibberish to you Everything seems so exciting! You want to talk like them, you want to see every sunlight, feel everything and explore more, But That only lasts until it is unknown to you.   The particles are no more interesting The smile is no more lovely The light is what you feel bored of now The “gibberis...

FORBIDDEN

Forbidden by any other But not forbidden by me, Even if I have to walk a million miles I know that we must be. Forbidden for me to touch Forbidden to even kiss, Forbidden to hold me in his arms… What kind of torture is this? I’ll walk across the desert I’ll swim the deepest sea, Only if it is promised That he will be set free. If he is forbidden to me Then I am forbidden to breathe, In this world I’d have no peace What meaning would my life be? To forbid my love for this man Is forbidding the sun to shine, How can you forbid something so beautiful? I am his and he is mine. This love I have in my heart For he that shall go unnamed, Grows stronger by the minute Every night and day. I’d rather you cut out my heart Before giving up my love for him, Without him here with me My heart would cease...

WE PROMISED

we promised each other we would always remember, we swore we would never forget. but that was before, back when we were together, we hadn’t departed just yet.   now fifty states and a thousand mistakes lie between the crux of our brains and all that I dream is to reach for the phone and pretend that you’re calling my name.   you’ll tell me that you miss me, then I’ll shout “I feel the same” you’ll whisper “I’ll be back” you’re still my secret cure of pain   but instead, I cry a river and now await the sun for I don’t have the means to build a bridge not the energy to run   across, to the land of forget across, to the land of forgive we never planned our death we were too hopeful that we’d live   but we are not immortal, and all good things must end. nothing lasts f...

ON LOVE AND MUSCLE MEMORY

If love is like muscle memory Then My heavy head will always aim for your chest In bed, my twitching legs try to find yours to tangle against My cold hands will always cup the back of your head Gently Fingers reach for the familiar spaces between yours My lips curving before meeting Crashing Reach for your neck, the palms of your hands, the edges of your narrow hips Shaky heart beating against my chest Same responses, time after time And again and again and again   But then Colder now You began teaching my body a new set of movements Reactions   If love is like muscle memory Then My heart now tightens in response to your harsh words My brain unspools and restrings Itself all day long In its attempt to understand you At times I can feel all the tendons and fibers of me Straining a...

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