the_vague_philosopher7

seriously, I overthink.

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  • the_vague_philosopher7 61w

    What
    if you're
    nothing
    to the
    person
    who means What if
    the world you're
    to you? everything?


    ©the_vague_philosopher7

  • the_vague_philosopher7 61w

    What if
    you're
    nothing
    to the person
    who means
    the world
    to you?
    ©the_vague_philosopher7

  • the_vague_philosopher7 64w

    This a poem without a name

    I check your messages once, twice,
    okay ten times
    I curse at every single phone call,
    cause it's not your name lightning up my screen.
    Seriously, the ghost in my attic is less scary than you.

    You're this metaphor for all sunsets and music gold or you were,
    now, you're this metaphor for everything sadness.
    Frost's sadness lurks by the open window,
    but my sadness pours from my wounds, swings around in the ceiling fan and won't leave me alone


    When Chaplin said 'Despair is narcotic'
    I believe he mentioned you,
    you are this greif cocaine that I keep inhaling, ingesting and injecting and I'm addicted.

    Seriously look at yourself, you are this series of exploding fireworks
    crimson blood and hypnotizing blue,
    do you see sunflowers smiling back at you in the mirror?

    Mom always said, stay away from fire, you'll get burned
    and I did get burned and there was this harmonious high of feeling sad, I mean being burned, is love sadness?
    is sadness the way I know it's real?

    I don't know, I don't know when I'll stop writing poems about you,
    I'm not sure I want to stop writing poems about you

    If we see eachother one day in the middle of a crowd, I will smile and if you smile back, I'll keep writing poems about you, so don't.

    ©the_vague_philosopher7

  • the_vague_philosopher7 67w

    In my poems you are the dream of you


    - Sabrina Benaim

  • the_vague_philosopher7 71w

    Some nights the moon writes me
    letters
    Telling me to breathe, to put on
    music in my kitchen and dance
    Some nights I feel myself floating in
    my sleep
    I'm slowly rising and rising
    And then just before I wake up
    I touch the moon, once, twice
    and once more.
    ©the_vague_philosopher7

  • the_vague_philosopher7 71w

    Some nights the moon writes me letters
    Telling me to breathe,
    to put on music in my kitchen and dance
    Some nights I feel myself floating in my sleep
    I'm slowly rising and rising
    And then just before I wake up
    I touch the moon, once, twice and once more.
    ©the_vague_philosopher7

  • the_vague_philosopher7 71w

    I think we all want to be heard,
    about the days you spent withering away, about the days and nights you made love. I think there is a need deep down in your soul, a need to share your thoughts and experiences with other souls.
    ©the_vague_philosopher7

  • the_vague_philosopher7 72w

    Butterflies dance in the garden
    White tiger, Grass yellow, Psyche
    They skim past unseen hurdles
    I watch them from my window
    My hands gripping the white painted metal bars
    Their wings flutter away
    And my bland soul gets struck with a moment of elegance
    I stare at them, watching them go
    zig-zag, zig-zag
    They always dance in the garden
    They never come inside.

    ©the_vague_philosopher7

  • the_vague_philosopher7 72w

    Another set of random bouts of lines floating into my head

    #thoughts #life #poetry


    PC: pinterest

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    Somedays I wish my head would fly away
    Far into the clouds
    And my heart and lungs would sink into the ocean,
    riding wave after wave
    my feet becoming roots, going further and further into the dark earth,
    my roots would join with other roots and I would no longer be alone.
    ©the_vague_philosopher7

  • the_vague_philosopher7 73w

    You will not find yourself inside walls,
    In the wilderness, under the sun, the rain and the moon will you see yourself.
    ©the_vague_philosopher7