a collection of thoughts that always abruptly en

homesick [ COMPLETED ] ˈhəʊmsɪk (adj.) ❝ longing to return home ❞ a daughter who never felt heard or understood. 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 : # 01 in existence # 01 in melancholy

An amalgamation of love poems, letters and songs All writeups are mine :)

there is half a moon that i can't really swallow

2024 poems, again MIR - 20 January 2024 #1 poembook #1 poemcollection #2 imagery

sit with me, while i peel my heart for you.

what drew your attention to this book? was it the delicate red rose on the cover? ... or was it its thorns? yes, the rose is daintily alluring, but you will only notice the thorns once you take a closer look. i like to imagine my poetry as this thorned rose, my carefully arranged words as its delicate petals: its beauty seemingly pleasing from afar. however, once you take a closer look, you will gradually see the thorns: a deeper and darker meaning disguised behind enriched metaphors. looking at the rose, you would also notice how it is hand drawn, denoting the fact that my poetry might not be perfect. it is intentionally written with some incorrect grammar (for instance, how almost all words are in lowercase) to give a more raw feel in the sense of how one may write down in a personal diary. the name "the rose comes with thorns" is not only an embodiment of my poetry writing style, but also the meaning behind it. just like how everything beautiful comes with its own flaws... ...the rose shall come with its own thorns. 🥀THE ROSE COMES WITH THORNS a poetry book written by huma zafar. #1 in "poem" out of 206k stories (2/5/24) #18 in "poetry" out of 336k stories (1/6/24)

MELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK ON AMAZON UNDER 'MELANCHOLIC MUSE' BY MAY GARNER This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love, drips down the drain. I am waiting for the day for your fingers to unscrew the pipes, dig through debris and mess, scrape your heart against the rust, just to find me, so we can go through it all over again. Here, in the pages I find myself, in the ink that writes against my flesh, I will whisper the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all of the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists.    First poetry collection in the series. Original poems based off real life experiences. #12 in poetry. Cover template made by @KaleidoGraphix on Canva. 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 copyright © May Garner. 2017. All Rights Reserved.

love and loss and language ･:*:･ﾟ☆ no. 1 in poetry june 18, 2019