it’s called pop-poetry, that “easy” kind of poetry that is so popular around the world this time around. modern way of expression in stanzas that don’t necessarily rhyme. but it is art we can’t quite keep straight anymore; everything relatable will be appreciated exactly as is. there’s been debate between established writers about pop-poetry writers being promoted based on popularity rather than merit but I feel like pop-poetry poses an easy way for “newbies” to dip their feet into poetry. I admit, a lot of pop-poetry I see on Instagram these days seem pretty meaningless, which I try not to mock too much, as I mimic pop-poetry myself. I feel like there’s a fine line for this type of poetry to be even considered poetry, so I’m being very cautious of how I describe my writing.
when I decided to share my thoughts, I didn’t care whether I’d get mocked. I just wanted to get my thoughts out there after a horrendous break-up. other people write songs; I don’t have the talent for that. but all I ever knew in life was expression in words. so I went for it.
poured my heart out and published my second pop-poetry collection called Read This When I’m Gone.
in this post, I’ll go more in depth about some of the pieces from the book that I re-read the other day. it might be interesting for those who have read it, and also for those who haven’t (which is totally okay, too).
I can’t easily open up to you,
even if I wanted to.
I’m scared because I don’t know
what you’ll mean to me
in a week or two.
once upon a time I trusted people around me fully, completely, genuinely, with all my heart was carrying. some experiences led me to believe that I couldn’t – that not everyone had the intention of respecting my privacy and my entrusted secrets. it’s just something that I grew cautious with over time because at one point I didn’t want to invest too much into a relationship, platonic or romantic, in case something happened and people would leave. I wouldn’t let people explore the parts of me that I had built walls around after past relationships and experiences. when a friend read those words, he sighed and said, “Hannah, no one is out there to take parts from you away. it looks like you have to allow yourself to love again. properly. with all your heart. risk it all.”
I spend nights at home
falling in love
with the idea of you.
– do I really like you, then?
I know myself and a lot of people fall in love with the idea of people instead of who they really are. I could blame it on the fact that I’m an unrealistic hopeless romantic. but who knows. I wrote this when I fancied someone and after a few months of liking them realised that I barely knew them and I started to wonder if I really seriously liked them if I was just pining over what could be. I laughed at myself and the imagination in my head. nothing ever happened between us and we became good friends. the idea was just just that: an idea.
the thing is we broke up in my head.
but in my heart, it’s a whole different feeling.
I feel further away than I felt when we were still strangers.
tonight you’re not even thinking about me, but I’m pacing
around my dark flat trying to outrun you in my mind.
that time after a break-up where it felt like I was the only one hurting. I wanted the other person to be hurting, too, because it felt unfair. but I was alone in that, and I was trying to accept that. I wanted to turn back time to the time we were still strangers and barely talking, before everything happened. now looking back at it, I’m just grateful for the lessons of heartbreak. and I mean that in the least petty way, by the way. I’d never felt proper heartbreak before, and I feel like I really needed to feel crushed in that way once in my life.
one day I decided to choose you
before anyone else
because I’ve given all my life
and devoted all of my soul
and I won’t look back
– letter to self
XX (I don’t think I’ve got to explain this one)