introspection
-
I never understood why the world ached so badly for romantic love. Swooning and gushing and cooing over your partner, drowning yourselves in sickly-sweet nothings seemed like a tacky endeavour. Allowing yourself to be known and needed by another was a risk I didn’t want to see the fruits from, no matter the fulfillment it
-
What are you most proud of? That I don’t see life as a miserable, gruelling concept. That I don’t see life as something forced onto me. That I still manage to find the light, the crack in the sidewalk to sprout from. How, even through convoluted grief and anger at years lost to trauma and heartbreaks of
-
We’re a forever oriented species. We think that if something can stand the test of time (which is an oxymoron considering time is indefinite), then it means something, it’s worthy of our attention. Relationships, jobs, happiness-the closer we aim to “forever,” the more it holds significance. We are obsessed with endings in this weird, meta
-
An oddly mild month January has been, warm like the head of a newborn child,the days brim with potential,flowing, yet tensile. If one was so inclined to break the laminar flow,to seep into the brine,the salty noveltyof new days and due dates and a fresh gaze,they may find it to overflow. Potential calcifies when its spilled. Collecting over
-
a poem following the prompt shown.
-
do you so dareto suck on contempt like a sour cherry,the tannins taut on your teeth,saliva building in your gums, pulling out every last ounce of bitterness? do you so dare to strangle grief with your bare hands,to wring dry your nerves, to feel flesh bulge between your digits, releasing the life from it? do you so dare to watch
-
One day you’re 10, and you’re waking up to the wet wilderness, putting on your dirt streaked flip flops to pick wild raspberries for morning pancakes. The foam soles bend around the gravel road, and you can feel every single pebble like the princess and the pea except you’re the king, the king of this
-
Before I turned 18, I might as well have not existed. My teenaged years were a stale, stagnant fog. I was a stringed puppet, a shell of the raw, confident aura teenagers possess. I was puppeteered by my parents, and with glee-I knew no better but to impress them dutifully. My days were filled with
-
Solitude is comfort.Sitting inside my heart, knowing it is just me to look out for,has a level of safety, of solace,of relief.I know my requirements and tend to them endlessly. But now there’s you.you.You have a space carved out inside my heart,with flashes of your strong hands and soft eyes,every squeal of joy,the tightness in
-
Does time work against you? Is it time that slowly devours your flesh, ages your skin, shrinks your brain? Is time the silent killer, the morbid pessimist, the reality check that you are far from indesctructible? Are you ok with that, an immovable force dictating you? -Saturn
Lashanda Forsberg 