Poetry

By Hope Kostedt sometimes when I hold you I silently sob because you are not mine have never been mine and that’s an ache that is constant a constant reminder that while I may have you right now you are not mine I am not yours at the end of the day you will leave and go be with the one who is yours and they will hold you the way I did the difference is you will be each other’s and I will not be a thought By Hope Kostedt

By Hope Kostedt hope is not always easy and comfortable it is not always sweet and beautiful it is not always seen in sunrises and flowing waters it is hanging on grasping for air it is sweat and tears and struggle it is found in the trenches soaked in rain this is hope the continuing because of the flicker in the dark By Hope Kostedt

By Hope Kostedt Give comfort to others Hide what you think Pat a back Give a hug No don’t hug Just talk Stop talking Hide what you feel Give space Be more attentive Speak your mind No not that much Offer all you have Accept nothing Hide your hurt See their hurt Ask Stop asking Brave face Pull it together Hide your tears Don’t get frustrated Hold them Let go Give them time Face their fears Mask your fears Be strong Help rid their pain Hide your pain Don’t show you are weak Tak

By Hope Kostedt you opened your mouth a weight barreled into my chest my heart stopping for a moment when your words hit and then buried deep into me carrying me into a downward spiral of self-loathing and hatred your tongue only spewing what would injure me the most you knowing full well the most vulnerable and darkest parts of me each syllable was beautifully crafted to rip apart my soul By Hope Kostedt

By Hope Kostedt he broke her, little by little small enough cracks, that no one could completely tell until eventually she fell entirely apart those small cracks finally making her come undone he broke her with the control he had, the guilt he bestowed, the lies he spun he broke her with the false love, petty lies and underlying schemes he broke her with the manipulation and constant fighting with his antics, with his words he broke her he took her energy and her thoughts and

By Hope Kostedt I used to not care how others saw me. Now I want to be seen as strong, capable, kind. I used to think of life simply. Now I see all the danger and complications. I used to resent my parents for giving me so many siblings. Now I cannot picture my life being happy without them.  I used to rely on people more. Now I do everything I can by myself. I used to be badass. Now I am still badass. I used to look forward to things.  Now I dread too many of my days. I used

By Hope Kostedt At 5 years old I am scared of boys. At 7 years old I think this one boy on my brother’s basketball team was cute. At 8 years old I see my sister go through puberty and wonder when that will happen to me. At 10 years old I have a crush on three different boys at the same time. At 11 years old I go through puberty. At 12 years old I like a boy.  At 12 years old this boy liked me too. At 13 years old my parents don’t let us be friends anymore. At 14 years old my

By Sarah Colleen (s.c.) When death hath come to take thee away, I shall stand, and shout "Nay! But rather, take me in his way, For I dare to say- he is worthy to stay." Die for thee, so shall I do, Remember me as silver droplets of dew. Glistening on a petal anew, Smiling vivaciously up at you. Resentful spirits, crimson misted with rage, Come to steal a soul, or two, for their irreversible cage. Parading my spirit upon a ghastly stage, Boasting of triumph, another victim ado

By Sarah Colleen (s.c.) o’ glorious day! the bells toll, and the birds hum their ballads of life. it is of the essence of this day; pray, the sun will smile down upon us in glee. what an honor, to be enclosed in thy cathedral. your melodies reverberate off the walls, and tickle my skin so childlike! upon my knees, i gaze up at thee, my beloved. i worship thee faithlessly! placing my adoration  and devout loyalty upon thee! day in and day out, honoring and engorging my own sel

By Sarah Colleen (s.c.) Once there was a songbird,  whose opulent enclosure was all she knew.  A cage where she sang her song of sunshine  as she grew and grew.  Her colors were a watercolor;  brilliant and rich; yet, over her heart,  remains an ever-present stitch!  she wishes not for more melodies,  but a mate; o’ what an inferno of passion  they would create! day after day,  night after night,  she serenades to the darkness in the midst of her vivacious plight. then one da

By Sarah Colleen (s.c.) A deafening silence screeches across the deadly city, as I wander aimlessly forward. The ultimate demise rained upon these glass castles, gruesome and hellish in nature. All lives lost but mine, without a whisper, without a trace. The Queen of Nature herself now reclaims all in her path, swallowing the metropolis whole. Excruciating exhaustion, perpetual starvation, I dare not make a sound. Vile creatures of otherworldly malice  stalk this once develop

By Sarah Colleen (s.c.) there is this guttural, ancient yank that agitates my soul.  a feminine windstorm, swiftly raising through graves from the women of the past who were ripped to shreds. cellular mutations always contorting, forever scarred by the breath of Man's first violation. an inevitable oppression and a destined possession;  the infinite weight of her body never once belonging to her. the divine rage tsunamis  over the Patriarchy as years prattle by.  controlled,

By Sarah Colleen (s.c.) so much progress reversed by just a few words. am I bad? Am I? is the very marrow in my bones defective? a victim and a monster simultaneously. I detest all, but cave into loneliness. desperately codependent with the yearning for independence. I’m developing interdependence and depending on my instability to keep me independent from all those around me. I contradict, and cry ‘contradiction!’ my skin molts to reveal the very same skin which purged itsel

By Sarah Colleen (s.c.) you are a viper- my very pores perspire  with your poison,  your venom.  your treachery feels like  acid within my flesh,  you devil. o' wicked beast- you are original sin. words spat so foul, they fly- defying gravity like  a treasonous mind which has lepth from the edge.  the leaves shall  begrudgingly photosynthesize,  knowing they aid  in the fill of your lung,  and the rhythm in  your chest cavity.  Food nourishes; water quenches; shelter protects

By Sarah Colleen (s.c.) pure evil in the  form of a man: an old man, a withering  man, a forgetful  man, a negligent  man.  may all your earthly wishes come true because the pits of hell will blissfully welcome you in a hue of raging blue. the wider you smile, the deeper my frown. i’m happy you’re alive, so in your regret, you’ll drown. please don’t worry  about me or the trees, or the whispers on the breeze. all the beauty  becomes swallowed up by you; a blackhole of sleaze.

By Parijat Pathak Once, I was silence – a shadow between prayers, a name unspoken in the temple of men. They mistook my stillness for absence, my yielding for peace. But something ancient stirred– a hum in the blood, a call older than birth itself. It was not rebellion; it was return. I rose as flame, burning through centuries of forgetting– the weight of worship, the myth of meekness. Each spark a reclamation, each scar a scripture. My rage became river, my grief became grou

By Parijat Pathak It began with forgetting and ends with knowing— not of the mind, but of the marrow. I have met every version of myself: the silent, the burning, the broken, the whole. Each one was holy. Each one was her. There is no more separation between prayer and pulse, between earth and eternal. The goddess no longer descends— she simply awakens where I stand. I am every myth retold, every dawn rekindled. I am not the storm, nor the calm after— I am the sky that held t

By Parijat Pathak Once, I mistook motion for becoming. I thought to be powerful was to rise, to roar, to break. But now I know— the truest fire does not chase; it abides. I have become the pause between inhale and exhale, the silence between lightning and thunder. Nothing to prove, nothing to perform. Just presence— vast and unbending. The world still trembles, still names my calm as arrogance, my solitude as sorrow. Let them. Stillness was always misunderstood by those addic

By Parijat Pathak The old words cracked beneath my tongue. They spoke of gods and laws, but not of the pulse that lived in me. So I began to write— not on paper, but in air, in breath, in being. Each heartbeat became a verse. Each silence, a stanza. I wrote of a universe that remembered what it meant to be whole. There was no audience, only the wind listening, the stars nodding in rhythm. I rewrote commandments into questions, replaced judgment with wonder. What if holiness w

By Parijat Pathak I used to think holiness lived outside of me— in temples, chants, mountains that touched the sky. But one day, my bones began to hum. The sound was raw and ancient, a memory older than pain. My spine, once weary of holding worlds, rose like a cobra uncoiling. Every vertebra whispered sutras of endurance. Every ache was scripture written in marrow. Power was never about force. It was the quiet defiance of existing— in a body that had been told it was not enou