Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
3 Feb 2019
i wonder what color
our union is, what
would suit us best

we'd probably argue over
it, in that joking way
we had before -

but i'd take your wrists
and hold them above
your head:

          our color is
          chameleon

because we change
with the wind

and everything about us
defies a
one-color existence
dec 1
#j
3 Feb 2019
linen sheets
& bedposts with
sheltered
secrets

it could be
ours, the future --
it could be ours,
but it blares
with a darkened
face,

its features
like the love
we make
in secret,
away from
the prying eyes
of the industry
and the world

they think
they know
you and
what you
break for

and boy,
they are so
wrong.
dec 29
not based in reality
3 Feb 2019
you don't need to
let anyone in. i mean, who
could ever love you?
feb 2
#j
3 Feb 2019
i am sent to this
world to be your empath.
your eyes glisten and shine
as do mine;
but we breathe at the same
cadence.
(your faults are mine.)

there is soul between us &
our lives are lodged in between
a spark of timeless energy
someday soon will be released

i breathe rhythmically
and tonight i cried for you:
i shed the tears you
should have, and i am
enthralled with carrying
your burdens
#j
3 Feb 2019
i love you
but i'm
nearsighted
i'm asking too
much of you,
demanding for
you to come into
my life now.
i just don't want
to lose sight of us
because you are the future
with a beautiful face
#j
To illume the earth,
The sun has to be burnt.
This instance is known,
So I too learnt.

That I shall be scorching,
When you would leave.
Infact, I would be hindered,
But bestow my wish to relieve.

Thinking how would be the eve?
When my eyes would have tears,
And no vigour in my sleeve.

Then a liquid which is ignobly famed,
Would be complice of mine.
Would console my heart in this way,
So I can weep and whine.
This poem depicts the presumption of the poet's mood at the time of departure of his beloved for forever.
Last night, dreaming of you,
To me, my heart informed.
That your lips are so good,
For a french kiss to be performed.

In the very enigmatic dream,
You appeared as a doll of wax.
There was nothing but a scene,
We were clinging to the wall of ***.
Broken heart poem
I woke up early in the morrow
Due to clamor in my head.
I was distressed, gooey and restless,
It was the illation of what she said.

She said that she couldn't be with me,
The reasons were painful and dolorous to me
Burning in the flame of the anguish and parting.
Obligate enough was me, as she departing.

O lord ! How should I tell her, my sufferings?
She has been my passion, soul and other things.
You form match, It is saith,
So make her in my faith.

Else show me the way, how to forget her?
But think about me also, doest it better?
If this err you did, I won't spare myself,
If I manage some how, but what will happen to my elf?
Broken heart poem
Oh No One Nov 2018
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I look in the mirror and don’t recognize whoever is staring back.
I don’t remember the last time I saw myself there.
It must’ve been a long time ago.
I keep asking “what have you done with me?”
Or “what have you done with him?”
But I only get a question for an answer.
Somewhere in my travels, somewhere along the way.
Me and myself stopped, and I guess I decided to stay.
So please help me find him if you could,
I only know the name, I just can’t remember the face.
None
Mick Nov 2018
IT'D BE THE ONE LOVE POEM I EVER WROTE ABOUT SOMETHING BESIDES GETTING HIGH ALONE

my sister would commend me on my ability to write something beautiful for once
that stole someone's breath in a way that sounds like "stay with me"
instead of slamming the door in your face

it would probably be a very detailed description of the way your lips move when you're talking ****
and the way your tongue brushes along your back teeth when you're trying not to smile when I do it back
which honestly might be the easiest part to write

it'd be something really gay about your terrible choice in flowers or the color lilac or the TINIEST of confessions that are really too small to hear

it would be stamped in gold stars
and sold as quotes by people that aren't me

and probably aren't you
but I think you'd be okay with that
because then everyone would know how I feel about you

and if I could write a poem like the way you talk to me
everyone would already know anyway
#j
Next page