sweeterchord • [ The Elderly Couple On The Next Bench Over ] •
I like to imagine that I have no idea what they’re talking about. That what they’re saying between complaints about their backs is that they have more grandchildren than their hearts expected to hold, but they couldn’t imagine it any other way.
I like to think that they bend forward slightly when they walk because the years have been good to them and they’re ready to launch into whatever adventure comes next.
I like to think that their slow pace is a learned habit - to not rush anymore - because being on time to dinner is less important than holding hands, one more time.
I like to think that they don’t look at one another while they speak, because they’re trying to see the plaza through one another’s eyes.
Because they’re still trying to get to know one another more.
I like to think that they don't feel alone, anymore.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; 171
1h

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sweeterchord • [ The Way Sidewalks Say Hello ] •
To tell you the truth, what I love most about you, today, is the way you walk in the rain, with your face tilted slightly upwards, as if to say “I know you don't hear this often enough, and I know you think they hate you, but I, I have missed you. And I'm glad you're here.”
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; 144
|| Carme, Valencia - España
#WHPstrangelight ||
1d

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sweeterchord • [ The Sky Doesn't Move; You Do ] •
I’m not sure what this means yet but none of the stars are in line and there’s too much white in the wrong seasons.
(But I love these constellations more than the first.)
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; 134
|| Hola, Valencia ||
1d

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sweeterchord • [ The Parentheses ] •
If I’m honest with you, sometimes I like the backside of a written page more than its face. The ink half-bled-through is as close as I’m going to get to your heart anyway, and it probably makes about as much sense this way as it ever will.
(You’re missing a piece)
(You’re missing me)
The remnants of yesterday’s poems are still on my fingertips and I’ve given up trying to wash them off - to wash you off - because it’s futile - because I’ll miss you.
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; 143
|| Museo El Greco - Toledo, Spain
I had wanted to go to Toledo ever since I was 14. Light chasing and dream chasing go together so well.
#WHPstrangelight ||
3d

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sweeterchord • [ The Truth About Idioms ] •
Look, it’s not that today’s seed is tomorrow’s orchard. It’s that today’s seed is next month’s sapling and you may very well spend the rest of your life craving apple juice, but just know that I’m waiting for it too. With you.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; 170
4d

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sweeterchord • [ The Misunderstanding Effect ] •
I just want you to know that sunsets through scratched train windows are still just as beautiful and I think you’re forgetting that your mirror is a liar.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; 174
5d

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sweeterchord • [ The World Is A Bully Sometimes ] •
If you're the kid hiding behind the park bench, just so the other kids won't take your popsicle, there's a spot here, next to me, and you can stay as long as you'd like.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; 173
|| New cafés, new explorations, and new travel plans. Yes please. ||
5d

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sweeterchord • [ The Anatomy Of (Me) ] •
If my pen is ink then my hands are adverbs. My fingers are dismally, excruciatingly, incandescently, softly, yours. My shoulders are articles, (bringing clarity); my arms the punctuation holding us together, sometimes joyous, sometimes forgotten, always present.
I’d like to say my heart is the verbs but too often they’re my head - lost in the jumbles of nerves and curls until the rest of me decides on its own where we will feel - and how close we will let your fingers get to this pen.
I am too many grammatically incorrect sentences wrapped into a paragraph that sounds of a desperate paradox and demands rereading. Twice. Underlining key words and important verbs until you come to some semblance of who I must be.
I am your high school english teacher’s nightmare, your college literature professor’s problem child, and your contemporary coffeehouse's confused snaps.
But this is a free write. And I’m the scattered, half-burnt, barely legible corner of the lost poem she still calls her favorite.
#sweeterpoetry
The Soul Made Of Fire: 31
6d

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sweeterchord • [ The “Normal” Day ] •
“So have you figured it out yet? Why it’s okay to be you?”
Well, I know the reason should be “because I matter.” But I think, today, it’s just "because it is."
Because it’s enough to go on a café-hunt and feel weird sitting at a barrel table and get asked out by an old man who thinks you look very alone, there in the plaza, while you write poetry and watch the sunlight trace leaves on the sidewalk.
(Because living is not a waste of time.)
#sweeterpoetry
The Soul Made Of Fire; 36
|| Absolutely loving my new boots by @nisoloshoes. Never thought I'd win a contest but then the lovely @tifforelie picked me, and it turns out they're the perfect shoes for exploring Spain!#inmynisolos ||
1w

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sweeterchord • [ The Sunburn ] •
Even the Sahara was once under water so really, you can’t tell me you’ve always been like this.
(You can’t tell me you’ve always wanted to be numb.)
#sweeterpoetry
The Soul Made Of Fire; 35
|| Segovia, you are delightful. ||
1w

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sweeterchord • [ The Passage I Always Need To Underline ] •
I am still breathing, in fact. And my smile is just as authentic. If I appear otherwise, it is merely my own questions on top of a fear that I refuse to succumb to and my head will not sink unless in sleep or prayer.
I will be.
I will breathe.
I will loose my anxious grip on the pen of my own life and trust that the ink’s fade is momentary.
I am okay.
I know myself.
My wings are getting stronger and I will not be buried again.
I will soar.
#sweeterpoetry
The Soul Made Of Fire; 30
1w

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sweeterchord • [ The Empty Trenches ] •
This
is not
a poem.
This is merely
thin lines
of sighs,
heartbeats,
and your breathing.
This is
the proof
of how you
infiltrated
my fingertips
(and no further),
but my well
is running out
of the color
I love so much
and I just wonder
if you'll
share
yours.
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; 129
2w

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sweeterchord • [ The Extant ] •
You will
fall.
You will feel like the world is quaking nowhere else but under your own feet and nothing seems to make sense here anymore, upside-down, heart clamoring to a beat far quicker than your own.
You will
hurt.
You will open your heart to someone who doesn’t deserve it and find out the hard way that people aren’t always as real as we hope them to be and, sometimes, your own broken pieces cause more damage than theirs.
And you will
break.
You will crack, somewhere, small at first, and you’ll try to hide it - thinking that vulnerability isn’t compatible with strength and that nobody really wants to hear your honesty - they’re just being polite.
Don’t believe that.
You will
stand.
You will learn that without earthquakes, we wouldn’t have mountains - that sunsets are more beautiful upside down - and that your song doesn’t have to be sped up. (This is for you.)
You will
heal.
You will remember that you existed before his arms and you are still real without them. And you will remember that you were always in His and, I promise, His mosaics are more beautiful than Rome’s.
And you will
shine.
You will realize that stuffing these cracks with more concrete just makes them more brittle and, truly, the world is brighter with you in it - outside of your shell, willing to be, softly, loudly, you. (I hear you.)
(He made me a promise, you see, that my next sentence would linger for centuries to come.)
(You matter.)
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; 169
2w

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sweeterchord • [ The Trouble With Small Talk ] •
I wish this were easier. I wish I could just walk up to you, in between hello and goodbye, and we would somehow know one another.
You would see my fidgeting hands and know that I have to adventure - there is no extended stillness with me, for I’m scared to be stuck. I would notice that the buttons on your lefthand pocket are more worn, and I would know that that’s where you’ve hidden for so long and that letting someone else in is a big deal, but I’d understand.
And you would know the stories in my scars and start to wish you were written in them too, if only to be an irremovable piece of me - but instead you’d handle with care without making me feel fragile - knowing that your own strength isn’t dependent upon comparison with mine.
And I - I would help you unpack the emergency kit you’ve never really needed. We will add bandages but take out the ice bags, because scrapes are inevitable but numbness isn’t wanted anymore.
Then, maybe, there wouldn’t be a goodbye.
Hello.
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; 141
2w

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sweeterchord • [ The Apartment Still Has A “For Sale” Sign ] •
I know you lost yourself that day,
but I still see you laughing
in the third-story window
and I just wish
you could hear
your own joy
again.
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; 142
2w

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sweeterchord • [ The Distance Between Us Isn't Measured In Years ] •
You saying you're not enough is not humility. Not like this. It is poison.
You self-deprecating, beautiful soul.
Don't you know how brightly you shine?
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; 166
2w

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sweeterchord • [ The Broken Record ] •
I have a tendency to forget sunsets. They’re too beautiful to hold in my head forever and so, I let them go. Too soon perhaps.
I forget that people are the same way, lighting up your skies and fading - sometimes - unless you chase them around the horizon like flying west after dusk.
I forget that hugs are important things in life and sometimes letting go is the worst thing you can do to someone.
I have a tendency to forget that I matter [to you].
#sweeterpoetry
The Soul Made Of Fire; 33
|| Hola, Madrid!!! ||
3w

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sweeterchord • [ The Oasis Is Closer Than You Think ] •
The strongest moments feel so far removed from the floods that you might as well be in a desert, but please don’t stay there. Don’t hide. Don’t become so isolated that your very skin becomes the brittle edges of beloved manuscripts still cherished, but so liable to break.
Stay close, dear ones. Please.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; 168
|| On my way to Spain tomorrow for the next several weeks! Prayers appreciated. I'm very excited :) ||
3w

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sweeterchord • [ The Paradox Of Reading ] •
These words are mine but they belong to you.
And they breathe so that someday you can too.
(So that someday I can too.)
#sweeterpoetry
The Soul Made Of Fire; 29
3w

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