I guess my pain is like candy,
when you like tasting it so much.
At least something about me is sweet.
But I stay thinking there’s something
worth fighting for here.
Maybe I just want to be worth that fight.
I will stop asking, I will stop searching for your affection.
Just to see if it will still be there.
At the end of the day,
love you have to ask for never feels like love in the end.
This feeling that only feels liberating in
shackles. The room that gets smaller and
smaller, eating away the oxygen.
The 24/7 panic attack that begins when you
decide to lock away your heart.
You just wanted to give your heart a break
after it has been broken. Now you forgot how
to use it, you are running away from its purpose.
I am giving everything away
and the bar is low.
You just need to love me a little bit more
than I love myself and that’s easy to do.
Last poem by Luna: Poem #335
Our First Travel Vlog: Vacation Vlog – Island of Krk, Croatia
Hello everyone and welcome to another Coffee Date with Luna!
Usually I intended for Coffee dates to be published each Saturday but here we are.
Yesterday I went to bed a bit early because I wanted to wake up early today but that didn’t work and I ended up spending a few hours overthinking and my thoughts came to my blog and my writing.
If you follow me, you know I haven’t been posting a lot of my original poetry lately and the reason for that is that right now I am very happy in my life. I have already noticed before that I have writer’s block when I am happy. Poetry and writing in general had always been an outlet for me, a way to let go of bad emotions and terrible experiences. When I come to periods such as this one when I am happy, I have things going well for me, that creative part of me just become blocked.
Do you experience this?
I know everyone has their way of writing but I got to thinking if this is toxic for me in a way. Would I ever sabotage myself and my happiness in order to write something? And yes, my brain likes to go to extremes when I am overthinking alone at night but this question has really been bothering me. How far would I be ready to go to break this writer’s block and can I unintentionally invite unhappiness and pain to my life just to find inspiration to write?
My mind was spinning a lot last night and I thought it would be best to read more and get in touch with art and poetry again to find a new source of inspiration. Do you have any good book recommendations to get me through this period?
Writing is something that has been with me through life, I have created my blog around it and I have connected with all of you thanks to poetry and I would hate to have to pick between my writing inspiration and my happiness.
Even though I am very happy currently, this part of me is missing and I think I would experience my feelings of joy more intense if I were able to write about them but I fail every time.
Tell me what you think about this, have you experienced this or any other type of writer’s block. Also, is there any subject you would like us to discuss in our Coffee Dates?
Sending love and positive vibes,
Luna
We were more toxic than this
cigarette between my fingers
Like a good addict I am still
looking for those eyes
that loved to undress me.
My mind is silenced.
My heart is twisted.
I wonder is it human to crave
poison while I lie awake,
a bit drunk with smoke in my lungs
waiting for you to come back.
How can you corrupt something so
young and innocent?
As if getting her attention wasn’t enough,
you now want to expand your influence,
see how much you can manipulate
the mind that still believes in a happy end.
Do you get off on causing pain?
Her soul wasn’t ready to take a beating
but you didn’t blink an eye while
turning her into the other girl
the second option for your lonely nights.
You took one look at her, didn’t care what was inside.
You called her gut feelings a joke
while you were turning her into one.
Where is the finish line, where is the satisfaction
of making someone feel filthy, worth less than a dime
How can you corrupt something so
young and innocent?
Did you even feel the shame
or you just let her take the fall?
You lost the right to miss me.
You lost the right to call my name
in your sleep or to tuck yourself in
with the memory of my body next to yours.
You lost the right to remember what’s it
like to hug me, kiss me, feel me, have me.
You never actually did have me. You had
something you wanted to have, you didn’t see
me and you didn’t know nothing but my name
You lost the right to come back into my life
to disrupt the months of progress it took to clear
my life of your memory, to stop the grieving.
I had to grow new skin, rip out the hair you played with,
fix the heart you played with, mend the glass shattered
soul you left behind and I did it by my damn self so NO
you can’t walk through that door.
You lost the right to ever call me yours.
You gave up.
You left.
You lost.
You lost the right to tell anyone about me.
You lost the right to feel good because we were once a thing.
You lost the right to look at the pictures we took.
You lost the right to feel my scent in the shirt I left.
For as much as I care, you lost the right to live.
Maybe those people walking alone,
talking to themselves can see their
loneliness and they talked back to it.
The defeated its purpose.
They won and we call them crazy.
I’m not the one to wear my heart
on my sleeve but with a few lies you bought me.
With one look you tore down my guards.
I was so helpless and paralyzed every time we touched.
You were like my drug and I sold myself
out to desperation just to have you one more night.
I’ll pretend that you’re genuine and that
your words aren’t here to get my hands around your neck.
I’ll lie and say you’ll be here the next day but
we both now after tonight you’ll go your own way.
My pride and my brain are getting crushed on
this park bench while I pretend this isn’t another
one night deal. I’ll just pretend that every kiss
means something.
Actually it does, it means you’re getting
what you want. You always had your way
with me, always knew how to get me into
your arms. Self control is unknown when you’re around.
I know I’m fighting a losing battle but
don’t stop. Keep me in this ecstasy and
I’ll care about my feelings some other time.
After everything I don’t expect you to stick around.
I’ll feed this crave for you and then I’ll starve
until some other time when you show up.
As always I’ll give us a shot because my stupid
mind thinks you’ll fall in love.
Tell me again how you’ll do everything for
me and then walk away like I’m nothing.
Tell me another sweet lie and leave me with
sore lips, bruised heart and bruised neck before dawn.
Put the windows down
let the night air pierce my lungs.
On this highway I want to get lost tonight.
I don’t want to be found.
Why would I want to be found
in a world that tells nothing but lies?
Sells empty promises, fills out heads with
ideas about prosperity when outside
the window we see people dying on the street.
When will it end, when will we have peace?
When will we stop and think: What the fuck
have we done here?
I hear voices in my head, they keep
telling me to stop. Who am I to become
somebody, to make myself worth being alive?
It’s like everywhere I turn it’s a dead end street, so
I’ll just get lost on this highway within me.
P.S. This was actually one of the first works on my blog under the name Lost on the highway but I just thought it would be nice to repost it for you guys.
