Roar in the Afterglow

Ive recently posted two poems about love and promises, the one where we promise our future partner not to look for perfection, but life as it is and them as they are, with all ups and downs. Facing all of them together and growing along that journey. Important as well however is (and before making that vow to someone else) is to make it to ourselves- that is, love ourselves unconditionally within this one person marriage. But marriage aside (that's still far away from where I'm standing.. if not light years), How do we open up to someone we are dating ? When do we share our past, our dark side? We all have lived a life, we all have a baggage. And we all wish to find that someone who will accept us as we are; full with flaws and growing. Like an uneven bucket of wild flowers- some of them strong, some of them needing more maintenance. When we do decide to (or happen to) "spill the load" is there a thing called too soon ? Is the case that all people out there are look

7 candles lit up, my face -like fire crackers. No wishes, they rarely last. I did like people normally do. it echos, my past. I look at you. I like your face, it remindes me of sunny days. freckles, beard, sleep, sweat, it echoes, I cant feel my feet, I'm in a haze, I step outside to see the stars in their grace. I'm right here, and I will be okey. I go back inside, you're fast a sleep. but  I got my air. I'm still me. I know this concept might be too big, too deep, too heavy, I'm scared but still I chose to speak. I wrote it down why the air, why do I cry and tell you that I fear that I'm not there. you deserve to know what you see, I owe it to the future me,  I opened up a wound,  the thing I'm carrying those times I get up, outside, and look at the stars and the moon. But like an empty note, I'm still waiting for the words; it's okey. Your past isn't appalling me from you in any way. Sorry, I fell aslee

With you, next to you, you on mine and me on your shoulder, Together-  I want to grow, and grow older. Life isn't a flawless picture. It is a perfectly imperfect unphotogenic mixture. It is hugs at 5 am, burnt toast, long haul flights and movie nights, it's a missed phone call, a car overpacked with toys, dreams come true and socks on the floor, it's stressfull weeks- and love once more. It is together figuring this thing called life, It is sudden laughter, It is your smile, The way you look at me; and I know we`ll be alright. It's every raindrop, every breakdown (car or human). It's every worry or past nightmare I promise not to hide, It's our balance, annoyment but love that never died. It's You & Me, messy. honest. real. I promised to love all of you so I wont just take a half, all of me- uncensured- and you still reach for my hand  .. and  so I know, We will last. With still butterflies in my stomach and spilt milk

The fear that comes with being creative, that was the topic I wanted to write about today, As its been the Easter holidays I`ve had much more time to leave some head-space for thoughts and wording then I usually do, I've also consumed more sugar than is recommended, but oh well, Christmas only comes ones a year... Lying here wrapped under a warm Scottish Tartan cover, okey actually its from Dover, England.. but associated with great memories either way, I can hear the raindrops on my half-open window. The birds are singing, and no they wont stop, they really won't. Spring is here. Grey and Rainy. Anyway, let me step out from dreaming. So, how to dare to be creative, creative with personal things.. and what problems (mostly caused my the roadblocks of your own mind) will you face ? First of all, the thought that One can always write something good, say it right, clearly and in a way thats relatable.. well thats a load of horse-crap. Does not happen. Only in the slighte

When you wrap your arms around me tonight, please do not hold on too thight, but please dont roll away from me either, that is not what I want, neither. And do not wonder if I suddenly press on the light.. I think you understand, I can still feel the echoes from my past But I wish you stayed right here with me, no force, no pressure, just two heart beats. This, safe and sound, is where I want to be. I would love to have you close to me.

I wanted to write down something about that feeling, that still catches up with us who have faced trauma, many years down the road, It creeps up whenever we get close. This might be hard to read for someone who is still recovering, I do not mean to make this matter into a joke. But as this comes up so frequently, almost 10 years later, I decided to make this in to a slightly humorous post. Maybe this will open my eyes for all the things that go lost. When PTSD hits me the hardest I can't tell which one of my instincts is telling me the truth. Are the Orange socks leading me back towards abuse ? That poster of Metallica, shirts with holes, or green liquor drinks filled with milk..... those frighten me the most. I'm sure Metallica is a great band, and that strange art on the wall won't be a sign of reckless mood swings. But what if I am wrong, what if this really is a sign.. I'm starting to loose it. I wan't to trust your comforting hugs, not fear that your

You might be wondering why this dark topic is now in front of your eyes, well, first of all this is a part in my life that I no longer choose to hide. But I wrote about this before, thought about leaving it there, but it came back to my mind so now I've touched this part of my life once again. Last night (around 3 am ) I wrote a poem about those darkest days, there is no hopeful ending, because that darkness was my state. This poem is the battle for life you go through when stuck. Emotionally and fearfully to a situation you feel that you cant get away from. Self-harm isn't a sign of weakness, of giving up on life.. it's the exact opposite, It's a sign of strength, this is not to glorify the terrifying act, but to open an understanding towards this battle for life, It was the only thing that still helped me feel that I was here, the pain ensured me that I wouldn't disappear. Fire= Self-harm Smoke= Tears, sadness, dizziness, shaking, being distant I'