abi's pov

United States Minor Outlying Islands

WtW's resident disappearing act

in love


tbh, i forgot exactly when i joined

Message to Readers


haha i always feel like the cousin who drops in at family reunions to say hi and then leaves immediately after and you don't see them for another six months until its somebody's birthday or something again and then the cycle repeats itself, yk?

anywho, uh yeah this is a thing. don't ask, ur big sis is kinda going through it rn - ik it all sounds like romance poetry, i didn't rrly mean for it to sound like that, but idk

bye-bye, gotta focus in literature class now.

stay safe, stay cool,
ur lowkey sad WtW older sis

the poems i'll never send her

April 23, 2021


she doesn't mean to,
                            but she makes me feel like i'm dying,
                            like this is the end of a story,
                            like i am the forsaken 'hero' of our world and she is the one who won't let me go too far.

i'm not a doubter,
                            but when she sends me the poetry she writes and i read those words, i can't help but chase the glimpses of my mirror image in those words. she writes about lifeguard stands after midnight, about a girl she loves, about a girl who makes her feel alive. am i selfish to want to be the one she writes about? 

i'm not a love poet anymore,
                           but when i write that her eyes are the stars and i am a young astronomer, telescope in hand, reaching towards my universe, never to brush those lights, i mean it. i mean that i would rather stumble than never learn how blind love can be. i mean that i'd rather spend three days trying to find the perfect way to slip those three words into the palm of her hand than say them as if they are nothing. i mean that she is disappointed in the english language, says we need more words for love, but god, when i write about her, words have never looked more lovely. 
she is everything alright in the world,
                            and i'd do anything to be the one she sees when she thinks of love.

love like a poet 
i heard the term 'love like a poet' today, and i think a part of me cracked.

love - love - love - what does it all mean?
            in logic, distinctions must be made; every term is something different than the one before, but this is muddled.
love like a poet - is it to love with the part of my brain that must overthink every action to be something beautiful? is it to love with purpose? to love as if i am picking every word, weaving our story to have a happy ending? consideration - is that what it is? to pick up on your every habit? to use this human action i cradle to try and make you feel loved?

love like a poet - it is what each poet makes of it, i think. it is cradled in your hands - the words are a mess - but it is there, it is there for you to make something of it.
    and i guess, that's what all love is. love is only like a poet to me because i know what it means to be one, but you can     love like a soldier, or a fisherman, or an artist, or a frog in a big garden - you can find love in anything, once you     make it of the muddled mess.

love like a poet -
love like not knowing your name but knowing that you watch the stars when you can't sleep and that you like chamomile tea;
love like everything is not something else, everything is you;
love like writing a million metaphors for the way you make me feel;
love like seeing you in everything i find beautiful;
love like shakespearean tragedy;
love like orestes and pylades;
love like brontë;
love like pen ink smeared as i engrave your name next to the names of immortals;
    love like you.

tonight i stand yearning in the rain
everything's fine, everything's okay.
the stars do not sing for me, and that's alright.
it is raining, but there is something more than petrichor to fill my lungs tonight.
and i'm fine,
and this is fine,
absolutely fine.

then i'm hit with it all - the stars start to crash, the rain pours, and i begin to wonder what we could have been if we were not us.

the world is fine, until i begin to dream;

the stars never sing our names in harmony, but tonight, the sky is symphony,
and it is calling out your name;
i am calling out your name,
like a prayer, on this dim night.

the rain doesn't ever echo with what-ifs, but tonight, my street is a empty auditorium and i am stood - microphone in front of me, scalpel in hand, waiting to dissect our future,
and i can't even tell you what career i want to go into,
but i know by heart the exact weight of your head on my shoulder.

i've never been a lonely person, but you hollowed out a part of my heart;
you made the aching place;
you carved loneliness into me
- i feel it everytime i touch my chest.

i crumpled the dreams we had,
tossed them into trash cans,
and burned the scraps,
but that same old l'appel du vide starts whispering your name,

the void becomes more comfort to me than any closure i could ever need. 



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  • Charisse Marison

    THESE WERE AMAZING! You are amazing poet!

    10 days ago
  • Paisley Blue


    14 days ago
  • Paisley Blue

    I cant-

    14 days ago
  • Paisley Blue

    This is so good.

    14 days ago
  • Paisley Blue

    Oh my gosh.

    14 days ago
  • rosemarywisdom

    Words cannot describe how deeply I feel the emotions in this poem. Holyy crap, the second last stanza is my favorite. "you hollowed out a part of my heart." Your words are absolutely sensational. I commend you :)

    16 days ago
  • Yellow Sweater

    This is so stunningly gorgeous, I cant even... I absolutely adore the line " she writes about lifeguard stands after midnight" That's going to stick with me for a while.

    16 days ago
  • aaliyahh

    oh..my goodness. i have no words. this is absolutely amazing. the use of words, the way you describe love...moved my heart!! THIS IS SO GOOD!!! *chef's kiss* you are such a talented writer, and i'll be stalking your page for a little while...

    16 days ago