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Nov 2019 · 308
Home
Birdie Nov 2019
Maybe I took for granted
How beautiful it felt
To climb in bed beside a person
To love the cards I was dealt

Maybe I was selfish
And didn’t choose to see
That you were struggling too
And it wasn’t only me

Maybe I was careless
And threw caution to the wind
Betrayed you and waylaid you
And bathed myself in sins

Well now although I’m happy
Become used to being alone
I still can’t help but feel like
I’m never really home

I don’t think I was ungrateful
Maybe selfish but I cared
I pray the world gives a second chance
For me to find love again out there
Sep 2019 · 307
Small person, big bed.
Birdie Sep 2019
I do my best to fill my time,
With friends and family,
Work and plans.
I distract myself with empty flirtations,
And TV, and alcohol.
Every day I try not to think,
And sometimes I go a whole day without remembering.
Sometimes I’m happy for a long while and I think
“I’m starting to feel better, I’m going to be okay”.
But when the days out end.
I come home from work, the Netflix credits roll across my phone screen,
Suddenly everything is silent.
And I’m so small,
And I remember how alone I am.
Just a little something that suddenly struck me this evening, I’ve been trying to sum up how I’ve been feeling recently and I think this explains it. Sorry all my poems are so depressing!
Sep 2019 · 576
4 months
Birdie Sep 2019
Since then I feel smaller,
Like half a person,
There’s a reason people call people their other halves.
The tears rock me like an earthquake and it physically hurts.
Everywhere I go it’s music, and food and terms of phrase,
Screaming your name.
Like the world wants me to be in pain.
My bed is way too big just for me but I don’t want it full unless it’s full of you.
I think I took for granted the beauty of normal life with you in it.
The worst part is I can’t even tell you how much I miss you,
Because you’re healing too.
That’s okay.
Everyone says times a healer, how much time?
Sep 2019 · 278
Lies
Birdie Sep 2019
Tell me another lie.
How about the one where you’ll always take care of me?
I loved that one.
What about the one about this being just as difficult for you?
But I never did believe that I’m afraid.
Tell me another lie again to make me smile.
I haven’t heard a good one in a while.
Sep 2019 · 345
A testament to you
Birdie Sep 2019
June,
A Tuesday, almost seventeen.
You were unexpected,
So out of the blue,
And green of your eyes.
I saw stories,
Through the picture.
I decided that yes, I wanted to know
You and all about what you’ve seen
And lived.
We met in heat,
And those eyes and smiles
Had me captivated before we ever spoke aloud.
You’re older and taller,
But you never act better than me.
I love that.
July and August,
We became us.
Two of us together.
September separation,
philosophy, theatre, literature,
Less of us.
We compromised and nothing changed.
But I loved you more than I did in July,
When I spotted your eyes watching me dancing
And singing on the stage.
October, November, December.
Cocooned in our heat,
Our personal summer.
Preserved, nothing changed,
But we got closer.
Partners in crime,
My favourite distraction.
New Year’s Day,
It’d been half a year.
I knew long before and so did you,
This is what they talk about.
February, today, a Wednesday.
Clinging onto our summer,
Yearning for this year.
I love you like nothing has changed.
Sep 2019 · 305
Levitating
Birdie Sep 2019
The trouble with me is that,
I’m completely immune to reality.
I’d always rather close my eyes and imagine
Than see anything at all.
In my dreams I can levitate,
I have always been able to.
And honestly though it sounds insane,
Dreaming has always seemed more real to me
Than living ever has.
Sep 2019 · 434
Alice
Birdie Sep 2019
She’s not a typical beauty,
Hers is painful
It’s overwhelming, haunting.
Eyes of the palest green,
Satin gloves, translucent shields.
She’s a glider, she floats,
Never settles, never stops.
Her words are fragile ribbons as they tie me up.
You’d give mostly anything to save her wouldn’t you?
Yes.
She’s so delicately wonderful,
If there’s a god he loves her.
She’s a bird who’s feathers are as exquisite
As the bruises that stained her skin that day.
She has been free falling for a while now,
But she’s not there yet.
She needs to know that love is what is left
When everything you have has been stolen and your own emotions are no longer yours.
That’s when you know you’re loved.
When you and they have pulled each other through a hellish cloud of tears and blood.
And though your clothes are red and wet,
In their eyes you’re wearing the same green satin that your eyes and wings are made of.
I wrote this poem in college about a beautiful friend of mine.
Sep 2019 · 594
Southsea to Ryde
Birdie Sep 2019
Only twice in my life
Have I ever felt entirely safe.
Once when my dad told me when I was little
That if the house caught fire in my sleep
He would carry me to safety wrapped in my duvet
To protect me from the smoke.
And twice,
When I first met you.
Sep 2019 · 358
M.A.R
Birdie Sep 2019
I think of you every time I hear seagulls,
I think of you when I drink Diet Coke.
I loved the way that you made me feel safer,
I really loved the way that you spoke.
I hate how you never accept compliments,
I hate how you’re stubborn as hell.
I miss feeling your arms around me,
I really miss your kisses as well.
I know that it’s too complicated,
I know when I’m wrong and you’re right.
But I can’t stop feeling the way that I feel,
When I miss you in the day and at night.
I can’t pretend that it’s easy for me.
I’ve cried over you and it’s true,
That I think I’d have loved you if given the chance and I hope you’d have loved me too.

— The End —