love in the age of social media | songs of youth

written in 2016 about a situationship in which both of us were more concerned with chasing greatness & stellar twilights than with each other. 🌊🌅

i think i wish i knew

what you’ve been reading,

what bands you’re into

and what dreams you’re weaving. (?)

it’s been one year and a half

since you’ve unfollowed me on instagram

and i’ve deleted you on facebook.

i miss you. (?)

i wonder if you wish you knew

that i’m writing again

that i dyed my hair

that i wear black lipstick and gold hoops.

i haven’t unblocked you out of prideful frailty

but i’ve conscientiously kept up the virtual appearances

one is lured to, follow parting.

i made up with the right friends,

posted pretty selfies,

changed my make-up just rightly.

i smiled widely in pictures

and avoided sharing sad poetry.

but you don’t know.

you don’t know that

i was torn the other day

that i changed therapists

that i’m playing keyboards in a rock band

yesterday,

my friend sent me a screenshot

of your new profile picture.

you looked good.

healthy and polished,

probably my opposite these days.

and you don’t know

that i sway to heartbreak pop at midnight

that i lost my mother’s ring

that on one cold night in london i sat beneath the twinkling lights and i thought

i knew who i was

i think i miss you,

but i’ve almost forgotten you.

i haven’t read your carefully written captions

and i haven’t seen your moles in over a year.

erasing each other from our social media

was a cleansing process.

i can’t even remember why we drifted apart.

i’m just pissed that you haven’t seen me blossoming,

because you unfollowed me on instagram.

and you won’t ever know

that i quit drinking coffee

that i learnt to swim

that i threw myself in the sea, wearing the dress you liked,

and the dress stuck to my thighs

and for once

i ceased to feel unwanted

like your casual distance used to make me feel.

@songs.of.youth on amazon: ~
kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/0duef5g
paperback: https://amzn.eu/d/0duef5g

throes by téa nicolae | songs of youth

you

spilled ice cream on my sundress

and swayed me to rock ballads

i

reminded you of spring

and faded in the summer breeze

we

had a common affinity

for boys with smudged eyes dressed in pretty skirts singing scratchy songs about loves lost to heroin

you

were my stained musician

i

was your absentminded poetess

we

were seeking to destroy ourselves

for throes of applause and tastes of success

you

did.

i

was one step before the chasm

when stratospheric glooms parted.

i

suddenly knew

that my quill did not have to be my ruin.

i

suddenly saw

that i could create beauty.

fluorescent tears on the train

crying fluorescent tears on the train,

𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸?,

i say to you. my eyes are soft but i house venom underneath my teeth. i cloak my vulnerability in spite, daring you to be cruel to me so i can finally bite. you can tell.

𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨,

you finally say.

i gauge your kindness with suspicion.

when i detect no snide, i soften my tongue.

yes

but

𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥,

𝘪 𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

there’s this song that lorde wrote after david bowie died

she sings about spilling our guts out on graceless nights because we are young and so ashamed,

frying our brains to the speakers

as we watch our heroes die

like lorde, all my heroes perished.

the party’s cut into my bones,

and the magic bullet’s wearing off.

dancing her feet on tombs,

lorde concludes

that she can’t stand to be alone.

watching my heroes fade,

i also thought

that i couldn’t stand to be alone.

yet i’m crying fluorescent tears on the train

and i feel my youth burning strong,

flaming my throat with anger and song.

my youth,

it still burns strong.

and i know.

my heroes ashed,

but i can stand

to be alone.

you open your mouth to respond

but i shake my head. i already know. it doesn’t need

to be spoken to me,

not anymore.

you smile and vanish in the scenery.

i’m crying fluorescent tears

on the train

and i can stand to be alone.

🦋 poem from my upcoming poetry collection which tackles the blooming into young adulthood. 💙

you said you loved me accusatorily | poem | songs of youth

you said you loved me accusatorily

with a glimmer in your eyes.

your hands entwined with mine

like ivy,

swiftly travelled to my shoulders

and strangled my neck

with care.

your tender messages were

sweet like thyme

and your love

smothered me.

i was ashamed

that i could not mirror your affection,

but God knows i tried.

on our last night together

you listened to music

while i cried on the floor.

as you slept,

i curled to the edge of your bed.

lips pressed to my knees,

i saw through my attachment to you,

and left wordlessly.

i know i did you wrong, too,

i’m sorry.

but love does not cage.

slighting bhakti poetry, the poems belonging to the “of jumbled warmth” section of ~ songs of youth ~ are poems i wrote which would most closely resemble what would be known as poems of love. sharing the ending stanzas of “you said you loved me accusatorily” from verona, the city of love!

*when i mused something similar, my very wise friend @flagrantambiguity noted that all poetry is love poetry in essence, only not in the customary way we think about love – which i *love*-d 🫀😁 because, indeed, to write a poem about something implies devotion to it – be it devotion to anger, grief or hatred. (my take!)

e.e. cummings, bhakti poetry and the individuality of the universal experience | pessoa, ginsberg, anaïs nin

in my undergraduate degree, i studied western poetry, and one of the poets i focused on was the beguiling e. e. cummings. in the past two years, i have been exclusively exploring eastern poetry in my postgrad, and it is only recently that i have begun to see how the two apparent different worlds and approaches illuminate each other. one of the elements i am most interested in at the moment is the process of individualising the universal experience; or how to express the universal through means of individuality.


this, with relation to cummings and bhakti poetry: cummings, a pioneer of experimental poetry, created his own language, which functions, i would maintain, like an authorship stamp: he used conjunctions as nouns, rewrote linguistic rules, introduced spacing as verbs etc. his poetry addresses themes looked down upon by other avantgarde poets of his time (and our time!) such as love and nature, yet it is the creation of his own language and the erotic notes of his poetry that revolutionise and freshen the apparent cliché of his subject matter.


similarly, bhakti poets, who write about ‘common’ topics such as love and separation, revolutionise these universal themes by pinpointing the object of desire to be God, and by introducing eroticism as worship. and, their authorship stamps (example: Akkā Mahādevī’s Chennamallikarjuna – more on this later!) distinguish and establish their poetic voices as individual in the context of universality.


fascinating how the experience can be both universal yet unique as it expresses itself individually through us, and how marvellous the intricacies of language and poetry are, how beautifully they thread us together through traditions, genres, times and worlds! 🤍


sidenote, i did use the word ‘cliché’ as a convention, but i don’t believe in clichés exactly because of this reason.

part of my #poetrybeautyseries, in which i share my favourite poetry lines and muse on their significance! on pessoa:

to me, fernando pessoa is one of the most fascinating poets to have graced this earth. he created 81 heteronyms for himself – meaning, 81 different characters or identities he assumed while writing. each had a different personality, background story, style. in awe with the mind-blowing imagination of this beautiful man. here’s a fragment from ‘discontinuous poems’, which he wrote as alberto caeiro, and which is grounded in a non-dual view, in my opinion. planning to make a video about him soon 🖤

on ginsberg:

although this quote is well-known, its context isn’t! it’s an excerpt from an interview with Ginsberg from Writers Digest, edited by Bill Strickland (p.47), in which he talks about the importance of expressing yourself without caring for validation or recognition.

“It’s more important to concentrate on what you want to say to yourself and your friends. Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness. Take (William Carlos) Williams: until he was 50 or 60, he was a local nut from Paterson, New Jersey, as far as the literary world was concerned. He went half a century without real recognition except among his friends and peers.

You say what you want to say when you don’t care who’s listening. If you’re grasping to get your own voice, you’re making a strained attempt to talk, so it’s a matter of just listening to yourself as you sound when you’re talking about something that’s intensely important to you.”

songs of youth | foreword

foreword: “The one consistency in my life, from childhood to the teenage years of angst and to the blooms of young adulthood, has been writing. I wrote to make sense of the world around me and of myself, I wrote to express myself, I wrote to connect to the world and to myself.

This is a collection of poetry written between the ages of sixteen and twenty. Brian Molko of Placebo, who was the soundtrack to my teenage years and the one who hypnotised me with rawness and alluring born-to-die sadness, once said that, when you are a teenager, you react to the world that surrounds you with great emotionality and intensity, with full heart. He mused that growing older is a process of finding semblances of sanity. This collection aims to illustrate exactly that; it is not written by an adult looking back with maturity, nor tenderness to their early years, but by the teenager who is in the midst of experiencing the turbulent highs and lows of being thrown into life.

This collection of poetry was a creative project I compiled as an undergraduate student of Creative Writing at Lancaster University. It includes unpublished work, as well as work that has already been published.

It is structured in three sections: ‘teenage angst’, ‘my loss is my root’ and ‘at last, light’, which chronicle the journey to adulthood through churn, grief, and joy.

You may notice that the poetry is written in lowercase. More than an aesthetic choice, lowercase marks the teenage search for identity and reflects how disconnected teenagers feel to themselves. As a teenager myself, I found it difficult to capitalise ‘I’-s, as it seemed as if I was proclaiming who I was before I knew.

This collection explores the beginning of the search for the ‘I’.

Enjoy.”

🕊 the cover art i fall in love with more and more every day is by Holly Robinson🖤🤍🖤

kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/0duef5g

paperback: https://amzn.eu/d/0duef5g

(u.k. links, do message me for the link if you are from another country & are interested in ordering 🖤 thank you so!!) 🕊

teenage angst, placebo rage | songs of youth

“teenage angst” is the first section of my book, “songs of youth”, and it is compiled of poetry i wrote as a raging teenager. i entitled it after the eponymous placebo track, in which brian molko scratchily sings: “since i was born, i started to decay”.

in the depths of my teenage angst, i followed placebo on tour and wrote live reviews of their delicious gigs! what a better day for a tender run through memory than today, the 3rd of may – the 2nd of may is considered the official placebo day by ‘cebo lovers. you can read “Placebo: Desire, Heartbreak & Dark Romanticism” here:

🎸 (eng) https://www.flickofthefinger.co.uk/…/placebo-wembley…/ (2017)

🎸 (ro) https://www.dissolvedmagazine.com/placebo-desire-heartbreak/ (2017) – lengthened!

since songs of youth came out, i have been revisiting my favourites and sinking into brian molko’s voice. it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that i wrote most of this collection with their tunes ringing in my ears or chest.

i am so happy that they exist & i can delight in their music. forever grateful that they raised me on tones of diffidence, with an appetite for delirious experiences – and freedom. 😁

you can order my book here:

polaroid of me teenage angst-ing in london after a spectacular placebo gig in 2018. 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝖔𝖇𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊 📽 (by the way, i turned nineteen at a placebo gig, screaming these lyrics at the top of my lungs!)

songs of youth | my first book of poetry is officially out!

over the moon to share that my first collection of poetry, “songs of youth”, is officially out & available for purchase on amazon!! 🥰🤍 incredibly moving to hold my poetry in my hands for the first time today. 😊

🕊 “songs of youth” is a collection of poems written between the ages of sixteen and twenty. it explores the journey to adulthood through tones of teenage angst, grief and joy. brian molko of placebo, who was the soundtrack to my teenage years and the one who hypnotised me with rawness and alluring born-to-die sadness, once said that, when you are a teenager, you react to the world that surrounds you with great emotionality and intensity, with full heart. he mused that growing older is a process of finding semblances of sanity. this collection aims to illustrate exactly that; it is not written by an adult looking back with maturity, nor tenderness to their early years, but by the teenager who is in the midst of experiencing the turbulent highs and lows of being thrown into life. it explores the beginning of the search for the ‘I’. ​

🕊 kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/0duef5g
🕊 paperback: (available in most countries and to roll out in a few more soon!) https://amzn.eu/d/grVyxyZ

🕊 note: if you’re using kindle, please lower the text size to minimum to preserve the poetry formatting which is inherently tricky to convert digitally, as the larger fonts create misalignments within the text 🤍 thank you!!

🕊 huge thank you to my dearest friend Holly Robinson, who did me the great honour of gracing me with her talent by creating the cover art of my collection 🤍

🕊 i have created a new ig account where i will be sharing my poetry, you can find me at: @songs.of.youth 🖤

my poetry collection “songs of youth” is #3 on the hot new releases in women’s poetry list on amazon! 🥰💙 thank you to everyone who has been ordering & reading it, i am so moved. 🙏 it has been my childhood dream to have a book of my own and it is very fulfilling to have the dream materialise. the ending stanza of my collection is:

“in the light of sovereignty / my little girl is lovingly held / by my woman”

and it has surely felt like this to have my words published and shared with the world. so grateful. 💙

🕊 kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/0duef5g

🕊 paperback: (officially available in all the countries enrolled in amazon’s publishing program)

u.k. link: https://amzn.eu/d/0duef5g

u.s.: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C2SH6KN5

france: https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B0C2SH6KN5

italy: https://www.amazon.it/dp/B0C2SH6KN5

just listed the first four here, do message me for the link if you are from another country & are interested in ordering 🖤

🕊 the gorgeous artwork is by the most talented Holly Robinson💙

thank you again to anyone reading my words & so much love 🤍

to live, to cry a little, to bring a touch of beauty

the last few days have been tender, and last night i was happy to reconnect with a friend from university whom i studied film with. we exchanged kind words as well as poetry. after we both shared that we warmed each other’s hearts, i found myself thinking how much i treasure these brief moments of connection, yet how i often don’t enjoy them fully because i generally am so immersed in my mind palace and narratives, so overly focused on my insecurities, internal drama or questions of right and wrong that the beauty of life passes me by. i mentally noted a line i could have seen in a poem, ‘to bring and receive a little beauty to and from others is enough’, and i scribbled this quick poem this afternoon. 💗

to live
to cry a little
to bring a touch of beauty to others
to keep my heart soft even when i’m scared
to feel my childhood’s wounds with tenderness
to share my mind with fullness
to come to understand the world with my fingertips
what else is there

maybe i’m alright as i am 

the only one who can deliver you is yourself

i was never a loyalist to my homeland,

but when i saw the trees

that had towered over my head

in my teenage years,

i graced the earth with my knees

and raged.

to the girl sitting by the lake

counting good omens on stones

and stringing her worth on fair words:

the only one

who can deliver you

from your despondency

is yourself.

reflections written in the park i walked every day in during the most tumultuous years of my teens. as the trees have changed, so have i, yet as the trees have remained the same, so have i. leaving home with renewed faith in the only one who can deliver me: myself. 🤍

📸: cișmigiu bloom!