Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Aug 2016 Wanderer
SG Holter
Push me in two hours.
Awakening means I
Live still.

Your voice reminds me:
It's worth getting up at
4am.

This Thing Called World
Awakens not; shifts.
I am animal to its

Soul; wings to its crow.
Never afraid, never uneasy.
Worlds turn.

Planets are never alone.
I can't wait to find the love
Of my

Life there. On other soil.
She hides well.
This universe ain't big enough

For the two of us,
Slim.
I am the only sad god I need.
Wanderer Aug 2016
First, what I thought was the only
Young. Eager. Stars in my eyes that shown just for you
Planets aligned along with bittersweet poetry
Bringing our moist, teenage palms together
Late in March of our senior year
Back seats of both cars steamed up
Pleasured cries that thought then "this is it"
Our laughter on late nights still stands out in stark relief against our subpar coupling
Although you had it in you
It was me that needed it in me
Wanderer Aug 2016
I feel the fuzzied heat of your wine laced breath through the miles

Hair on the back of my neck, aware, ripples goose flesh over sensitive skin

Fingertips itch to ease the ache in the knotted place between your smoke soaked lungs

Give me a chance...
  Aug 2016 Wanderer
Michael Blonski
The best poets
give us mirrors
to
better see
ourselves
10w
Wanderer Aug 2016
We are young, fresh
Stars in our eyes falling hard
Summer running wild across cotton candy skies
I wish I could push pause
Take it all in deep, slow breaths
Another season of warmth and sunshine
Passing me by with a quickness
Your smile glitters just beyond my melancholy
Bringing me back to the present
I mirror it with ease
Even if a part of me will always be wanting
  Jul 2016 Wanderer
JR Rhine
I want the poetry to mean something tonight,
              as I pace in my bedroom for hours
                                      under jaundiced fluorescent light.

                     I want to write something profound and true,
something of solvence to rid the demons to which I'm glued.
Wanderer Jul 2016
When I was much younger
Salamander for skin with aching veins of Pele
I always knew that I was better for the burning
Then ever I was for fading away
Making promises to innocence I would not hold on to much longer
Merely echos reminding me of what can never be
Resonating through the hollowed hallways residing deep within me
Next page