Intrepid Lovesick Notes

Unearthing my truth

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A poet from afar

    Intrepid Lovesick Notes

    • Measure

      Validation was never the destination.

      Too often,
      the eye is taught
      to judge the skin before the spirit,
      the posture before the pulse,
      the surface before the soul.

      Perception,
      sharp as any weapon,
      arrives before truth
      and calls itself knowing.

      Deception follows closely,
      dressed in certainty,
      speaking loudly
      where wisdom has gone quiet.

      Intelligence can be dangerous.
      So can the choice
      to remain untouched by knowing.

      Some build whole lives
      from projection,
      casting shadows outward
      rather than naming
      what lives within.

      Emotional intelligence
      is no common gift.
      It is often born
      through ruin,
      through reckoning,
      through the long apprenticeship
      of pain.

      What does it mean
      to become?
      What does it mean
      to belong to the self?

      Identity is profound,
      yet the path is often guarded
      by fear,
      by delay,
      by the hand
      that withholds its own becoming.

      How easily depth
      is mistaken for madness.
      How often a singular mind
      is taught to doubt
      its own design.

      One of the deepest wounds
      is learning to hold others
      to higher standards
      than the self has ever known.

      But there is only one measure
      that matters now:

      the height
      of one's own becoming.

      And there is a voice here,
      capable of movement,
      capable of reaching
      beyond the body
      that carries it.

      If fully given room,
      it may still arrive
      as it was always meant to:

      clear,
      undeniable,
      and heard.
      -Tara Simone TM

    • After All

      Things get scary, and it’s easy to hide.

      Hurt feels like a foreign object to the soul.

      It’s like my mind feels like it’s in an abyss.

      The only thing keeping me tethered is the sun and her seeds.

      See, I was birthed to Jupiter, the mother of expansion, the mother of natural beauty, but it seems to me as if I keep expanding so far, so wide, to a place that seems unfamiliar that when

      I tapped into

      Something to call home,

      I’ve become this place. Even in space, I’ve become a place the depths of my being can only hold darkness.

      I get that, I get that it’s pitch black, I get that it’s a match match, I get that I am wandering alone in darkness, a single light.

      And maybe that’s why love scares me.

      Because I’ve been the one lighting the way

      With nobody walking beside me.

      Maybe I’m not hard to love.

      Maybe I’ve just been loving in places

      Where my softness gets punished.

      I don’t want to beg to be understood.

      I don’t want to translate my heart

      Into smaller words.

      I want someone new

      Not as an escape,

      But simply as proof

      That my expansion doesn’t have to mean exile.

      Someone who doesn’t flinch at my depth.

      Someone who doesn’t ask me to dim

      So they can feel bigger.

      Someone who sees that I am wandering alone in darkness, a single light,

      and comes closer

      not to put me out,

      but to warm their hands

      and stay.

      And I’m good.

      Not because it didn’t hurt

      but because it didn’t end me.

      I’m not begging the past to be gentler.

      I’m not chasing closure like it owes me something.

      I’m learning the next lessons

      in my new chapter,

      soft hands, steady breath,

      a heart that still opens

      just smarter now.

      I don’t need love that confuses me.

      I don’t need love that costs me my peace.

      If it’s for me, it will feel like my soul returning home

      quiet, real, and warm.

      If it’s not, I will still grow.

      Because I’m still tethered.

      Still blooming.

      Still here.

      A single light

      and I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.

      -Tara SimoneTM