Lisa: Poems

1d · 1

Moonflower

Lisa 1d

I don't know what I feel.
I don't know who,
or what I like.
I just know,
that I do not feel
the embers,
I am blind to the spark -
The light

I think back on that time,
To that shallow kiss
I know that it was warm.
I know that it was nice.
Hell, I was on cloud nine.
But the moment passed.
And the butterflies were...sparse.

Was it him or me?
Was I just too slow?
Or he too fast for me?
I don't know.
I don't know.
I just...
don't know.

Three or four years
have gone since then,
And I still wonder why
Then I remember -
That wasn't the only time

There had been others before
We had courted,
And I was always wishing
I were elsewhere
Trying to spring forth
All of those feelings -
To lay my heart bare
...but they just weren't there

I still feel like the moth
With no flame
My heart,
In a state of decay
Now and then there is a stutter -
A flutter
Of something
I try to hold it -
But it just flies away

You may as well smear me
Across that windowpane

There are terms now
for what I could be,
The letters "A" and "D"
might feel like me
But I won't say a thing -
Not a peep
Not 'til I'm sure,
Until I'm really sure,
of what makes my heart truly sing

There's a pressure,
a quiet, constant hum
To know
who and what I am

They ask when
Not if I'll marry,
Bare children -
And start a family
Well let's just say,
That I'll not tarry,
To find a way
Out of the charade

Motherhood never spoke to me
It seems a cage -
Agony
I've only ever wished
to be free
Free to inspire,
To create
To ponder
Free to roam,
To dream
To learn
If only I knew the secret
For what makes me burn

But maybe it's okay
Not to know
Maybe I'm still blooming—
Unfolding slow, unseen
In the dark, I find
I do not cower
Instead, I glow -
I, the moonflower.

I will not blaze,
In the ways they expect
I will not leave entrails in the sky
But I still reach -
Only quiet,
and deliberate -
For the stars in the night
For why

Late-blooming questions and quiet reaching.
A reflection on identity, uncertainty, and learning to grow in my own way.

#poetry #identity #aspec #questioning #moonflower #growth #selfdiscovery #gentleness

1d · 26

The Shallow Kiss

Lisa 1d

The Shallow Kiss

I didn't know it would feel like this
That shallow kiss
You grabbed my wrist
The second and the first
Were momentary bliss
I was on cloud nine
If only for a moment in time
We only met twice
I thought we'd been spliced
It was warm, and it was nice
I'd thought that maybe,
you could be my first someone
I'd promised myself - "I won't run"
An awkward thank you
My cheeks aflush
I stepped away,
And then came the hush

Why does this feel so strange?
Like my heart has decayed
Brown, and withered
A moth without its flame?
It was warm, and it was nice.
Still...we only met twice
I suppose I was too ready to open the door
Unfortunately,
This has happened before
Maybe if we were to meet twice more
I might feel a flutter of desire,
I'm sure

Three days have gone,
I wait, I stall
I don't know how to feel at all
Was it karma,
or was it fate?
Did the universe just spit in my face?
I thought I had been brave -
I said yes. I had stayed.
I was willing to learn how love might taste,
My heart might have bloomed
in haste - not chaste
But maybe that was the mistake.

"The ones before were purely ******"
"I'm not ready for love"
He said,

Something twisted in my chest

I hoped it wasn't true,
But I think you felt something different for me,
than I did for you
It seems you didn't want my feelings,
My hopes,
Or my dreams
I think you only wanted my body
Just to satisfy your needs
I was ready
Steady -
And now,
Empty

But it was warm, and it was nice.
We had only met twice.

A brief spark that left more questions than warmth.
Vulnerability, misread signals, and the ache of almost-connection.

#poetry #romance #firstkiss #confusion #vulnerability #aspec #heartache #almostlove

1d · 156

Under the Door

Lisa 1d

Under the Door

The girl writes with practiced diligence
"Maybe if I explain it better...?"
"Will he listen this time?"
Another note slides under the door
Silence

A quiet poem about trying to be heard.
Repetition, hope, and silence—the things we send under closed doors.

#poetry #family #silence #unheard #trauma #childhood #longing #hope

1d · 31

Rainbows on the Walls

Lisa 1d

Rainbows on the Walls

The woman scrolls her usual scroll, not looking for anything in particular....then she sees it - not perpendicular.
Ethereal,
Quintessential.

Moons and stars and coloured gems all
glinting in the afternoon light.
The woman afixes them to her curtain rail
The girl gasps - her eyes wide.
Rainbows danced across the walls, a shifting, sparkling tide.

She breathes. She is delighted.
It's such a little thing, she knows,
The girl and I -
She is me and I am She.
The girl did not die in the fire

She stepped out, glazed with gold.
She still gasps at rainbows on the wall—
proof that wonder never grows old.

A soft reminder that it's okay to be a child at heart.
Sometimes healing means letting yourself play, notice, and believe—just like before.

#innerchild #healing #poetry #softness #joy #rainbows #childlikewonder #selfkindness

1d · 1

The Kiln

Lisa 1d

The Kiln

My hands, smaller then, holding a ball of wet, smooth clay. Shaping it into what I thought were animals - but they all looked the same. Egg-shaped heads, dumpy legs, and fat bodies. Skewered out eyes and noses. But I loved creating these strange creatures. Once complete, they sat atop the cupboard, waiting, hoping to evolve. To solidify. To become. But they never made it to the kiln. The creatures stayed there, alone. Forgotten. Abandoned. A ghost of my childhood, one of the few joyous sparks.

I am grown now, still haunted. Still longing. But I have reclaimed the spark. There it is again. Malleable and messy. These hands, belonging to a woman now, caked with that familiar, wet slip. My thumb presses into the ball - a pinch ***. Another. And another. And yet, another. My heart sings.

The shapes are wobbly. Tumbler cups, too small for coffee...I didn't realise they would shrink this much! There are no two alike, fingernail marks and uneven lips. But I love them - just the right size for honey wine. Dinosaur stamps — a T-rex and a Brachiosaurus. A quiet rebellion in clay, honoring the girl who shaped beasts and walked away. They stack beside the kiln now, waiting again. But this time, they are not forgotten. I see them. I made them. The fire awaits.

The girl, a phantom
I reshape her. I mold her
Coalescing, whole
The woman is set aflame
Imperfect and beautiful

A piece about returning to old joys, reclaiming creativity, and shaping something gentle from the past.

#haibun #creativity #healing #pottery #childhood #selfdiscovery #poetry

1d

Hermit Crab

Lisa 1d

Hermit Crab

Orange flowers blanket my knees
My coffee is betrayal -
not sweet enough. Bland
Daylight again,
but I am a vampire
Decomposed lettuce juice in the fridge

Other people exist - I decline
Where is the cacao bean delight?
The ocean can wait
I have my shell. It has pockets

A poem for the days you stay in your shell.
Written in my oodie, dodging the world (and the lettuce juice).

#introvert #comfort #mentalhealth #poetry #executivedysfunction #hermitmode #cozy #relatable

2d · 34

Quagmire

Lisa 2d

Quagmire

I realise too late
What a disgrace
Movement -
I should move -
But my legs refuse
Rigid
A look, frigid
I bite my lip
And then I slip
Into the bog

I am coming undone
A net of fraying threads
This truly is dire,
Now I'm in a quagmire
Immovable
Irrevocable
Everything is lost
In the muck
Stuck -
I cannot pluck
A single thought
From the matter
That is my brain
Restrained
Detained
Complaints?
Talking -
But I cannot compute,
Cannot refute
In disarray
Estranged
From the real
Enwebbed in the surreal
Thyself, congealed
Thyself half revealed
Then cut short -
Not in thought,
Out of sorts
I must abort

A flicker,
Then I am here

5d · 23

Rainfall

Lisa 5d

Rainfall

I stand in the fall
Droplets plinking from the ends
Of my hair, softly
It trickles down my cheeks
Bare
Drenched clothing, no care
Nature's very own white noise
It holds my mind still,
The fall allows me to breathe
I breathe -
Petrichor,
Emanating through the air
My fingers grow numb,
The wet continues to pelt
My skin, harder still,
That gentle thrum of the fall

I do not resist,
Water weaves me into ground—
I become the falling sound

#nature #grounding #calmness

Jul 10

I Remember

Lisa Jul 10

I Remember

I have these…childhood memories.
I remember;

Tears.
Fear.
Raised voices.
A broken windshield.
A singed curtain.
Broken hearts.
Broken vows.
And so, so many broken promises.

A room that was mine and also not mine.
A door that never felt like it closed.
Walls that learned to listen.
Drawers that held their breath.
I learned silence like a second language,
and tried to follow your lead.
Your voice became my voice.
I smiled when I wanted to frown.
I made myself smaller
in places that should have been safe.

                      “She’s my favourite.”

So I escaped
to where you couldn’t reach me—
in the corners of my mind,
to stories that never knew your name…or your kind.
Places you could never follow.
Worlds that felt like mine.

                    I remember your hands—
                    not where I want them.

I remember the sharpness of footsteps in the hall.
The sound of keys—
how even that could make my stomach drop.

      "Is this going to be a good night,
                        or a bad one?"

And I remember his voice,
too close again.
I hoped, stupidly, he might’ve changed.

But he hasn’t.
He never will.
And when he spoke, I trembled.
Not because I didn’t know—
but because I did.

Because I’d heard it all before.
Those saccharine words,
dripping—
sickly sweet…empty.
"I'm sorry,"
falling out of your mouth
like it cost you nothing.

And I used to hope you meant it.
That maybe this time
you’d keep your word.

But you didn’t.
You never did.
Another promise,
broken.

I trace the shape of the memories
only when I choose to.
Some still ache when I touch them.
Some don’t belong to me alone.

But I am still here.
And this room—this one—
is mine.

You haunted everything.
But not this.
Not now.

This part of me—
is yours no longer.
Not in this room.
Not in these walls.
Not in me.

This one’s hard to summarize.

It’s a poem about remembering—on my own terms. About carrying what happened, but refusing to carry the blame.

I wrote this to reclaim something. A room. A voice. Myself.

If you’ve lived something like this… I see you. And I’m still here, too.

#memory #trauma #survival #childhood #abuse #healing #reclamation #truth #freeverse #mentalhealth

Jul 10

The Stillness

Lisa Jul 10

The Stillness

The Stillness

It does not echo.
It does not push, or pull.
It only stretches into the yawning void.
I stare over the edge and think,
What if I went?

I do not want this,
But I will not go there.
I am here.
I want to BE HERE.

I am floating,
Hovering.

There are no voices in the stillness,
Telling me to come.
Telling me to go.
What to think,
What to say,
What to feel.

I find solace in the silence—
a...not quite peace.
It's the space between pulses
Where I am not chasing
Or being chased.

No demand to perform,
No mask to hold in place.
It's a hush that lets me breathe,
A little something just for me.

But I like it here,
Right at the edge of this void.
It's where I can just be.
And wonder,
What if I stay?

So I stay...
and find out.

The Stillness is a feeling. An in-between place where I can just...be. A calm nothingness. But also, a choice.

#stillness #dissociation #mentalhealth #suicidalthoughts #survival #numbness #quietstrength #emotionalpause #freeverse #introspective

Jul 10

The Pull

Lisa Jul 10

The Pull

My hands linger on the barrier tight,
Fingers twitching in the failing light.
Blood is drumming, hot and loud,
A whispered thought beneath the shroud. There’s a pressure blooming in my head,
Like every word I left unsaid.
It hums behind my aching eyes—
A silent song that never dies.
Half-lidded eyes, I am silent and watching
There waits the void -

         Gaping

                    Calling

                              Pulling

There's a gravity that pulls me near,
A silent whisper I half-hear
As the yawning void draws me in,
slow and thin,
I can't help but gaze, its pull a curious haze. It's promise I have not destroyed.
It sings in shadows, soft and low,
A voice that tells me where to go.

But still I hover, still I stall,
One heartbeat shy of letting fall.
I want to leap, to drown, to fly—
To find out what comes after why.

The wind shifts, and picks up my hair.
I blink and turn—no fanfare.
Just the concrete path, and the noise of life—the cars, the birds, the sun burning bright.
I shift my weight. The void still calls.
It tugs at my feet, my arms, my soul.
It's hold trembles. The strings snap.
I step away as the chords retract.
The mouth closes. Now threadbare—
fraying, curling...but I don't care.

I am stalwart. I am serene.
No longer caught in what has been.
The path ahead is cracked and wide.
I don’t look back.
I walk.
I try.

Maybe this is why.

First post here.
I wrote this in a moment of tension—between fear and curiosity, between holding on and letting go.
I think I’m still somewhere in between. If you give this a read, thank you. If you do and something pulls within you.....I know.

#tension #helplessness #mentalhealth #darkness #thevoid #emotionalwriting #freeverse #liminalspace

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