My story on Wattpad

Hey guys,

Check out my story on Wattpad, just joined and having fun writing. Are you a member? Let me know what you think about this social media platform?

So far I am just experiencing with the writer in me and the stories, but I found there is actually a poetry section. Who knew?

I will be taking a summer break, be back in September.

Enjoy your summer.

Follow me on Instagram for my story and adventure in real life as I explore Greece.

 

Take care of your heart and soul. They are precious.

 

Much love,

Chrissy xx

Click on link below:

http://my.w.tt/UiNb/bwrt2pGhZE

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Healing Hugs

 

Everyone needs some healing hugs

that connect us all

without a touch.

One body to love

so hold onto

your mystery

clasp it like a lost key

embrace the wrongs

don’t make them right.

Let your soul flow like your hair on a naked body

want no one

ask no questions.

Sleep poets and dreamers,

do not ask why, do not,

don’t let the bastards get you down.

Are you aware? Are you asleep?

Keep driving, don’t stop at pit stops, they suck you up and never let go of white souls

-Christina Strigas

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Photo by @antoniodjanikian ———————–

#fridayfuckery #longformfriday #streamofconsciousness

#amwriting #christinastrigas

#poem #poetsofig #writing #freeversepoetry #poetrycommunity #poets #poeticsighs #montreal #lovepoems #wordporn

One day

One day I will wake up dead and the life you breathed

into me with thumbs pounding on keys

will have meant nothing. nothing at all.

One day I will meet you again

after months of wanting

kiss you on your  tender lips

and feel your arms squeeze me tightly.

One day we will not even remember

each other’s smell. All of our physical pain

will have taken over our desire.

One day I will walk on the beach alone

and crave your hand in mine.

It is not even real, this love.

Back doors are open

and front doors are locked.

I died once and came back with

a new identity

someone stole Chrissy

and brought back a new version.

You would think she would be smarter

but she keeps on fucking up

mixing up sins with duties.

I lifted my dress for you

but you moved on now.

Other dresses are softer

and no one fights for anyone

anymore. Only lyrics

matter.

I can make them real somehow.

Did you feel the heat between my legs?

It was real, that I could not deny.

 

 

In the Middle

Once I was at the end of the love song

crying for years because it was over

before it even began. We were caught

loving the wrong person. I immersed

from my drowning and swam to the

beginning of the line. I sailed across

your poems and floated on your words.

You sent them to me by mail, on out-

dated postcards, you wrote them on

the back of my hand with your

fingertips. I sent you magic and

illusions with one needle on your

arm. We lived in a movie and

recited Shakespeare naked in bed.

You were not even close to being

who I thought you were. I was

too much for you to handle back

then, wanting to do everything

and doing absolutely nothing

about it. I climbed Mont-Royal

in heels and you laughed at

my absurdities. I was spontaneous

and explosive, until I wasn’t anymore.

I bent backwards on words

and the power of your hands.

Now I’m in the middle of something

that will change me forever.

I will never bet that girl again.

I have to be someone I thought

I would never be. Life throws you

these wicked curveballs

and I am catching them,

ready to be stuck here

hoping that it will not get

worse. All this hope

for songwriters and poets

but for a regular woman like me

it’s a waste of my time.

A poem about your back

I wrote the five letters of your name

in cursive writing with my fingertips.

I wrote the rest of the poem

in my head. It never comes to me

in the moment. It comes after

in riptides and synonymous with

coffee drinks. It arrives at my front

gate and whispers how you made

me feel cherished and adored.

I wrote in my head, on your back,

I love you, for showing me

your eyes, your thoughts, your touch

for having me

in your life. It is not even the

hours that matter, but what you

do with the ones that do, with the

silence and the words. Nothing

is something. When you ask me

what am I thinking? I am thinking

about how I do not want time

to cheat me, but it seems to

never stop banging with truth.

I felt your closeness

inside me.

And even laying together under

the sheets with no sun

brought the heat of Venus

into our hearts.

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Physical Pain

I met you at a time when I felt lost

and all the physical pain

collided with my emotional state.

You were the last person in the room

to approach me, and the first to notice.

I told you a story about how lovers

were stuck between all the worlds

they created and you rolled your eyes at

me. Oh, God, you said, another poet.

I’ve never met another one, I said.

Don’t fall in love with him I told myself.

Although I knew I would be the first

to fall for your dark eyes before you

even noticed mine. They were

as dark as my thoughts. You’ll

break my heart and I’ll lose count

of all the ways you want to love me

and other stupid thoughts kept

pestering my brain. shutthefuckup my brain.

I just want to get over someone

so badly, you said.

Me too, I said because it didn’t sound

so pathetic as (well step right up handsome

I’m the one). It’s funny how my mind

says one thing and my mouth another

or my mind thinks one thing and I type another.

No one really knows me then.

They just think they do.

I went to the bathroom and you were gone.

I thought that was just perfect.

A perfect ending to an awful night.

I had concocted all these ideals

that you were  the one

and other such bullshit

but in the end

you were  another character in my poem

I never knew.

I scared you with my witch eyes for sure

and other such nonsensical thoughts

raged my brain

of why men leave me.

 

 

 

 

Date

I want this date to last more than hours

but you never even made it to the restaurant.

It is so fine with me, I would rather eat alone

and dip my fries in sauce and eat like a pig

and not be judged for using too many conjunctions.

I want you, I really do, but I am changing

every day into an evolved woman. Not yet

married, divorced, separated, cheated,

I am only a young girl wanting someone

who I can never have because then all

the morals written in my chest will be

broken. I will feel broken in this city

we can never see each other in. I already

see the future of Sundays turning

into every other day.

You are so close to my house

and even if you drive by

I will have aged like a dog.

You will have had a multitude

of women while I am hooked

on one life line. It is this way

for I drive my own car and

let no one guide me.

I know which walls to put up

and which ones to let you in

but remember a date is

just a time and place

when two people

either show up

or decide otherwise.

Either way, it’s a date.

 

 

 

 

Sleeping in the snow

It can be cold

my hands will surely fall off

I should have been hospitalized

a few times.

I never ran home

I always ran the other way

the yellow lined highways

I flipped my phone over

and closed it down

yet I did not forget you.

You live somewhere else now

in a world

far from violin sounds

and toxic words.

best thing you did was leave

this hell hole

in xmas and easter.

You may have given me my

first sip of wine

but this shitty place

does not care for the snow

or the sun.

It wants your soul

to be eaten up by benjamins

and twenty-five percent rebates.

cards with points from every store

you’ve ever walked into

you are so much better by the ocean

trust me

this place is full of fakes

and loveless faces

that replace your body for your soul.

I walked away from it

and gave my enterprise up

for freedom

listening to dead poets

and kissing myself.

My lips taste sweet

coconut oil

rubbed in between my lines.

ten years up or down

and my eyesight will go

then my memory

and death is just waiting

to snatch up my sanity

and hand me down a disorder

of some sorts

so I can never see you again.

It was tragic while it lasted

and epic while it slipped away.

Even if you love someone else

you and me

kept quiet

hushed

silenced

into the snow

to hibernate

our love

into another season

in another life

where we stared out the same window

every morning.

A typewriter

I read a poem about you

I read a poem about me

it was the same poem.

I saw a typewriter I wanted

and now I am on my way

to select the one that got away.

I have been reading about Hadley

and Ernest

and all the love they had

for each other

and still it was never enough

for an artist’s heart.

It breaks differently and has no command

because all it wants to do

is feel

skin instead of paper

sheets instead of keyboards.

It feels so close when you write to me

but so far when I look away.

It makes me sad to feel the end of a novel

approach, to see you come closer

than a mirror.

I was called a loser and a genius

all in the same sentence

no one really gets the “me” in you.

I try hard to stay away from colouring books

and unoriginal art. I automatically play

your song when you leave.

I hate when you come back.

It makes me feel like we were meant

to be together. It echoes the voices

in my head that kiss me between

conversations. I mostly fall apart

alone, but once in a while

I have been known to cause scenes

and barge out of restaurants. I run fast

I eat quick, I smile softly. I aim to

please. Please everyone

but myself.

I aim to burn,

burn myself.

It is part of my DNA

I felt this at eight

twelve

twenty-one

thirty-three

forty-five

you know what I’m talking about

it’s a blockbuster moment,

it comes with being a writer

you really don’t want to hurt anyone

but in the end

everyone hates you.

 

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Lavender

I know my tastes are not as exquisite

or sophisticated but I prefer books

to brands. I just have that outright

spontaneity of life that others leave

behind.

I met you at that cafe because it is

oh so quiet

not Starbucks love,

but intimate as two strangers could be

a perfect place to let out the demons

that type away in a fury.

You smell so good and I have my

pheromones to attract you with

while cute Arlette, from France,

has lavender  cream on

that reminds you of

a naked woman long forgotten.

I observe everything too,

I write and everything comes

back to me

in flashes

sometimes years later

something I overlooked today

will haunt me tomorrow

and even though I am jittery from

overthinking, giving up

my power

and caffeine excitement

the truth is

you look so handsome

sitting across from me

and I truly adore your eyes

so much so

that I forgot

to give you my gift.

I love buying you a cup of coffee

or a beer

you do not owe me a thing

it is my absolute

pleasure

to be with you

for a few minutes

of your time

in your hectic day.

After all, you are passing

through

and Montrealers should be friendlier.

 

These moments of hellos and goodbyes

make me sad to leave you

and so happy to have seen you

walk through those doors.

A bientot.