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Heather may Feb 2015
My fiance is not only my fiance hes my best friend my world my everything he's been there for me through the good and the bad days but no matter what he still sticks by my side no matter what. My fiance is the most amazing most thoughtful caring man you will ever meet he's such a great guy to not only me but also to his amazing adorable nephews. My fiance will always be my number one.
My deadest fiance you give life to me, you are the light in the dark, when I'm near you I'm nothing but happy, happier than I've ever felt with anyone. You are the reason I smile, the reason I get up everyday and say I'm in love, your my most valued friend, your my other half, my best friend, the future mother of my kid(s), but above all your my fiance and I'll always love you, protect you, care for you, love and nuture you til the day we die. I love you so much you're my world, my shining star in the blank clear night sky, my happy place. My dearest your all I think about from the time I wake up, to the time I go to sleep and even in my dreams and if I could I'd do my life over and only have you as my love because you're the only one worthy of it. I live you and I'm glad you're mine and in my life with out you I'd probably be dead.
To you my dearest fiance you know who you are.
Stages and Ages Dec 2015
I forgot how much I loved the
Foreignness of a stranger's hands on me.
My waist, my arm, my ***
I felt every touch
Like an infrared light sensor
The heat from your hand
Stayed and glowed on
my arm, my breast, my thigh
It's fine though,
Nothing more.
I have a boyfriend,
And you have
A Fiance and a Baby on the way
John Buhler Feb 2014
Her lips like honey,
The residue leaving me wanting more,
Her eyes, so big, so bold,
So beautifully brown,
That smile that can shine
Even on the darkest days,
Her voice, so sweet, yet seductive,
That shooting star,
That 11:11 wish,
She is my dream come true,
On my wedding day,
My gorgeous bride
Will soon be mine,
Sealed with a kiss,
A commitment for life,
I can’t wait for you
To be my wife.
Temitope Popoola Aug 2013
How could you love someone this much and allow your parents' decision and choices to mar your future? Why does this matter anyway? Hasn't this happened several times and are the people involved not happy? Can't everyone just pretend not to see things and carry on with their businesses? So many questions played in Fiona's mind! There were answers, but she was unsatisfied! She wanted things to go her own way! She parked a few metres from her house and stared into the thin air!
Keji, her friend had told her "Babes, you gotta do what gotta do!". She chuckled, when she'd told her that; it sounded like a slur! But now that she's faced with the reality of making that decision, she'd gone bizarre! Flayed emotion and uncollected thoughts. She took a deep breath and started the car,  what does it matter anyway? She's an adult, and at twenty six she had the right to live her life and live it to the fullest!
She drove into her parents' house and  was received warmly! She'd called her mum ahead of the visit and was pleased to know her father wasn't home!
"Look who we have here, Fiona!" Her mum had said heartily hugging her. She raised an eyebrow, something's definitely up! Her mum sure could act!
She settled herself into one of the comfortable chairs as her mother excitedly moved about!
"Remember Jude? He's in town and I heard he'll be around for long. He asked after you." Her mum offered her juice and eyed her, searching for her reaction and waiting for her response! She got it, Fiona was clearly irritated and moved restlessly in her chair.
"Mum, not again please! I could make my own choices! Stop making me feel like I have a problem hooking up with men." She blurted out. Her mum wasn't surprised, it was just the anticipated reaction.
"You sure don't. Considering that you've never brought anyone home as your boyfriend" her mother answered, sarcastically.
"And every of your friends' sonos are always showing up in town and asking after me. I met Emeka under the impression that he was after me and I discovered he'd never heard about me and was treating me with pity! Like I had an issue with men. I do not like it" She explained to her mum, her voice laced with emotion.
Her mum bowed her head as if in deep thought, let out a sigh.
For minutes neither of them spoke! Fiona's beautiful face was shielded with the long peruvian hair that hung carelessly on her head! Her eye ***** were huge, and looked like they were going to give in to tears any moment from now. She'd worked at different companies before she finally settled with a top oil and gas company. She'd had different challenges with guys and wasn't willing to try anymore when she met the man she'd actually gone home to tell her mum about!
"There is someone and I want you to meet him" she walked around the house. Her mother's face lit up and then concern crept up it. "Do I know him? Is it serious?" She answered, "He's nice, caring, and loves me"
Smiling nervously, she picked her clutch bag and moved to the door. "You would meet him, tell Dad. And mum," She paused "Please be nice"
She was glad that phase was over. She told her fiance about the outcome and prepared him for the much dreaded visit to her parents' house.
They decided to make it on a sunday, her father, Lieutenant Joseph was home and was so pleased to see his daughter after all. He looked at the man beside her on the sofa and gave her a meaningful look. She shifted uneasily in her seat. The mother joined them in her sweeping gown and looked suspiciously at her daughter. She had on her the look of 'I smell a rat'. She sat beside her husband who fondly pulled her to his side. They watched a popular soap opera, Edges of Paradise and for a long time everyone seemed caught up in the family opera.  Fiona's mother coughed eerily, and everyone's attention was forced to her, she batted her fake long lashes and spoke "So?"
Fiona picked it from there, "Dad, I came over some weeks ago and told mum I was going to bring over my fiance so..." Before she could complete her statement her mother cut her short!
" Yes, you did Sweetheart, but don't you think it's rather rude for you to rush us by bringing in his father instead? You should have brought the young man instead" Her mother said eyeing the man with contempt.
Fiona was shocked, how could her mother refer to her fiance that way? Yes he's older than her but what? Does age hold the key to happiness. She looked at her father quickly, pleading for help with her eyes but he seemed somewhat humbled by his wife presence and speech.
"Mother, that's not fair. How could you speak about him in that tone? This is the man I want to marry." She said with heat. At that moment her fiance was getting uncomfortable, he tried holding Fiona's hand but it was hot, his too was moist with sweat. He didn't expect things to go too well but at the same time he was caught unaware! Her mother shifted forward in her chair, "Now gentleman may we know you?"
"I'm Victor Okon, I'm an entrepreneur and run a chain of businesses within and outside Nigeria. I met your daughter few years ago but we started seeing each other two years ago. I like her ma and would be pleased if I could marry her." He stated flatly. He was tired and didn't like the way both parents stared at him. To him, he was doing something noble by going to their house but the look they were giving him made him feel like a child molester. Would they have preferred it if they'd met in another way, like him going there to say he's responsible for putting their daughter in the family way?
The father didn't say a word and that made him wonder what kind of family they were. Then he gave it another thought and concluded perhaps, it's the way of military personnel. When it comes to family they are always cool headed but duty time, they are as hot as hell. Occasionally, when they let out their anger, they are unrestrained. Fiona's mother's eyes narrowed as she started speaking again.
"How old are you?" She had hit the nail on the head. That was the bone of contention and Victor Okon rubbed his hands. His hair a mixture of grey and black had somewhat given him out. But there was no point lying, if he ended up marrying her they would have to know sooner or later. He was a man of integrity and worth who didn't value recklessness. He was responsible.
Fiona took over, taking the bull by the horn,"He's forty-five, younger than you by three years, so what?". She spat out, a look of disdain played on her face. Her mother retorted " If he's young enough to be my brother then he's old enough to be your father" that stung, drop of tears rolled from Fiona's eyes. Her father, who'd let the conversation flow for a long time spoke,
"You ladies should keep it cool in here, why don't you go into the kitchen and get us something to drink in here? We want to have a tete-a-tete." Fiona jumped from the chair and stalked out of the living room, her mother followed swiftly. Even as the kitchen door closed, one could still hear their voices .
Her father spoke with Victor and he found out he really liked the man. But he was concerned about them understanding each other, relationships like that most times comes with huge load of commitments. He was worried about her future, and how long it might take for them to really connect. There were lots of people in the society with that kind of situation and they were doing fine. Some too on the other hand had failed at it. They spoke for a long time and Victor was able to voice out his mind. He felt it was a normal reaction for the mother, considering the fact that they were about to give him their eyeteeth. They heard a crash followed by a loud sound in the kitchen and stopped abruptly, Fiona stormed out holding her hand to one side of her face, she picked up her hand bag and asked Victor to meet her at home. She left the house and Victor rendered his apologies. He shook the father's hands, nodded at the mother and walked out calmly.
He met Fiona outside crying, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. He drove in silence, she played with her fingers and finally let out a sigh, she was scared of losing him and said,
"I'll do whatever it takes, I will" He didn't say a word, he just nodded!  
He wondered in his mind, what's there loving someone older or younger? Isn't love the most important thing?
In Nigeria, the society kinda frowns at stuffs like this and age doesn't grant one liberty from parents' guiding eyes.
Michael Kosmoski Dec 2012
I know you're mad at me now,
But that doesn't mean I don't still love you,
The ups and downs yet still somehow,
I know deep down you love me too,
This is just a bump in our very long road,
The road we stay on through and through,
For what you give me your debt is still owed,
I love you now and forever you know I do.

You're beautiful,
You're special,
You're wonderful,
So pure,
You're everything,
You're my world,
You're funny,
So true,
We fight,
We laugh,
We joke,
It's all,
For each other,
Like no other,
For our life,
Together forever.
He proposed on New Years Eve.
At midnight I said yes.
This is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.
Even if the life I've already lived has been short, I know he is the one I want.
I took a gamble when we first started dating.
As is turns out, I have better luck than I though.
I don't know why he loves me.
But I can think if a thousand reasons why I love him.
Now I know high school sweethearts tend not to last, but I hope we can break that trend.
I hope our love is forever.
I hope the world doesn't try to hold us down.
when i first  met you i knew that i wasn't that fool who knew everything  that no one could  ever  assume.

i know you want me to come with ya to California, but I have to stay until you come back after your plane  boards ya.

But you know all summer we can get under a tree and lay there  under a cover.

But i know you  got alot of plans all summer.

But you know after college and stuff   i might become  a mother .

But you know , you know  I'll see u alot more after you come back from California.

ooooooo California i want u to know that i aways want ya to be happy with the greatest person  who's aways their  to of bored yea.

I love u alot  huby husband fiance  Jonathan can't  wait to see u when u get back  Huby husband fiance.
Integrity: adherene to moral principles, honesty..and the quality or condition of being whole..undivided.

Cheating:  to deprive someone of something valuable by use of deceit.

         Most, if not all of us, need, and very much desire physical intimacy (yes, sx).  Can I say sx  on here? ...I'm not sure. Sx is like the greatest thing ever invented. It's right up there with eating and sleeping.  Everybody likes it..everybody wants it. But when someone is in an exclusive relationship with another, married or not, you don't get to have sx with whoever you want anymore. True, everyone makes mistakes sometimes, no one is perfect, and at times we are weak, for one reason or another. But an honorable man or woman...a person with integrity and inner discipline...recovers..and learns from the mistake...and doesn't repeat it.  That is not what cheaters do.  Cheaters are habitual. That means repeat offenders.  Cheaters talk about things like honor and will power and integrity, but they don't practice it in the place it counts the most, with their beloved.  With cheaters, it isn't about a "mistake".... a one time thing they feel horrible about afterward and promise themselves never to repeat.  Cheaters simply don't care. It's not that they don't care about the girlfriend/boyfriend, or fiance or spouse that they have made a promise of committment to. They do care...they just care more about themselves. It is the promise of faithfulness itself that is meaningless to them...it is simply empty of any real sincerity.  But the problem is that the promise is accepted by the loved one as sincere.  That promise is relied upon and as important as though it were tangible.  So irrespective of how much the cheater spits upon the promise everytime he or she cheats...that promise is HOLY.  Yes, that's right..HOLY.  What does that mean...holy?  Like church holy..or holy water holy?  How is a promise holy?  Well, really one could argue that any promise is holy, but how much more so when a person believes and loves and trusts another...putting all of their faith and future hope on a promise of real love and commitment.  That trust and love make the promise holy.  It is not the hollow promise itself, but that loving reliance upon the promise that creates the holiness...the pure beauty of love... and the faith that it is returned exclusively to the beloved.

          The true sadness is that the beloved will eventually find out about the cheater and then the house of cards will come tumbling down.  Not only is the relationship destroyed, but the trust, faith, and love is destroyed as well, and it may be difficult to ever trust again, in any relationship.  Such immense pain can be caused.  It is amazing that cheaters don't seem to care or think about the consequences of these indiscretions.  Do any of them think ahead of time about the people and/or god forbid, children that will be left lying in the wake of their utterly selfish acts?  The people that will be left trying to pick of the pieces of their hearts, and try to rationalize whether anything that they had believed in was actually real.

          The question is, what and who does the cheater value?? What does the cheater respect?  Do they even value their own selves?  Does a person who thinks nothing of cheating on a regular basis, or every chance they get on their loved one value and respect anything?  Clearly there is no respect for the promise made. There is no respect for the one whom the cheater purports to love.  There is no respect for the man or woman the cheater is doing the cheating with...because clearly that person is just being used to fulfill a carnal desire..and arguably the cheater doesn't even respect him or herself, because a person with an inner moral compass respects him or herself enough not to do things that will cause pain to others, especially those who love him or her.

          So maybe the cheater does not have any real understanding of what is holy..the meaning of a promise...an understanding of integrity...of sacrifice...of the pure beauty of love.  If a man or a woman is in a relationship and can't keep their **** legs closed...then that person has no business being in a relationship.  Its just that simple.  You can't have your cake and eat it too, and then want to eat someone else's cake as well.  If you are so selfish and deceitful that you can't be honest and faithful to the one you profess to love...then do that person a favor and either agree with them to have an open relationship, or let them go.  Because the act of cheating is entirely selfish in every way.  Cheaters want the security and benefits of an ongoing relationship with their significant other, and they want to mess around on the side as well because then they have the best of both worlds.

          But you don't have to go to church or believe in any particular religion to know that cheating is wrong.  It is a hurtful despicable act made even more vicious because it is intentional and hurts the person who loves the perpetrator.  How many crimes are like that?  ....the most heinous.

          So, if you are a cheater..don't ever talk about honor and integrity and code of conduct.  You have no right to utter those words.  Because when you live by  principles of ethical behavior, you don't pick and choose when to apply those principles.  You don't decide that they apply in some areas of your life, on some days, but not on others.  Think before you act..think about who will suffer from your actions...think about the destruction you will cause...do not believe that you can get away with it forever, because eventually the law of the universe will catch up to you.  There is retribution for every act in which we inflict pain on another...for every time we make a promise and then break it..whether anyone ever knows about it or not...just some food for thought
judy smith Aug 2015
Since a wedding is said to be the most important day of a woman's life, some brides-to-be are prepared to bring out whatever it takes to ensure that their big day is nothing short of spectacular.

A new documentary from the UK titled 'Now How The Rich Get Hitched', a provides a glimpse into some of the world's most lavish weddings.

The programme follows the glamorous goings-on at Knightsbridge bespoke wedding boutique Caroline Castigliano, where, for most customers, money is no object.

According to Daily Mail, bridal couture queen Caroline, who lives in Surrey, has been creating breathtaking intricate gowns for 24 years, cashing in on the £10 billion global bridal market.

But while the average UK bride is said to spend around £1,000 on her dress, Caroline revealed that one client, a Saudi Arabian bride-to-be is spending £40,000 on her dream gown - the same price as the Duchess of Cambridge's Alexander McQueen dress.

Despite the eye-watering prices, the 55-year-old designer claims that for most women this is one of the most important things they will ever buy.

She said: 'They buy into the overall power of the dress. I really truly believe that since they were very young they have dreamt of this day.'

Caroline's clientele aren't just drawn from the global elite, however. One of her clients, Jordan, 23, is a hotel heiress from Durham who has spent the past year travelling 300 miles with her family for fittings for her £9,000 dress.

Jordan's gown is made from one of the most expensive silks in the world, which costs hundreds of pounds a metre.

Jordan said: 'For a girl the dress is what everyone looks for. People would rather spend more money on the dress and look perfect on the day.'

Her mother Helen, who is helping to pick up the bill, added: 'I think once you see your daughter in something so beautiful and she's so happy you do stretch that extra mile.'

At around £9,000 Jordan's dress is almost half the average budget for UK weddings, which now comes in at an astonishing £21,000, but the day itself will set her family back far more than that.

The no-expenses-spared bash is being held at one of her family's hotels and costs include the £7,000 on importing 6,000 flowers from Holland, the hire of a 20-piece brass band and a Victorian carousel to entertain guests.

Gissa, 29, an Iranian socialite, who is planning a lavish ceremony in Turkey, journeyed to Caroline's boutique just to try on veils to go with her bespoke gown, which is embroidered with 200,000 sequins and 50,000 beads - and was one of the most expensive dresses in the shop.

The bride-to-be explained that her fiance was very amenable when it came to splashing out on her dress.

He said "I know this is the most important dress that a woman is going to wear in their lifetime so if you really like it and you love it, we'll get it."'

However, some brides look further afield for their dream wedding location and one of the boutique's clients, Katie, 29, was planning her ceremony in Southern Spain.

Katie admitted that she had fine-tuned every element of her wedding right down to her proposal.

She said: 'I'm a bit of a control freak, I think I emailed [my fiance] a picture of the ring after about three weeks of dating, so subtlety isn't my finest point but he's done really well.'

Katie visited Caroline for a bespoke wedding dress costing between five and six thousand pounds that has taken five seamstresses 200 hours of sewing and 250,000 beads to complete.

Another of Caroline's client, Kashmir, revealed that she took two years off work to get married and her husband is now determined to prolong the wedding celebrations with lavish gifts.

She and her husband also paid £75,000 to commission a portrait of Kashmir sitting in a chair in her strapless lace Caroline Castigliano dress, which was then unveiled at a party in the designer's boutique.

However, as any prospective bride will know a dress does not a wedding make and any ambitious bride-to-be will enlist the help of a wedding planner, with none more knowledgeable than luxury wedding planner Bruce Russell.

Bruce caters for the most ostentatious and demanding of weddings. He said: 'If it's physically possible, we'll make it happen - it might come at a cost.

'If you've got the money and you've got the budget to spend and you want to spend a million pounds why not spend it on a wedding it is the most magical day?'

Bruce's finely tuned expertise and impeccable taste come at a cost and he revealed on the show that he takes around 20 per cent of the wedding budget as commission, which rewards him with a £30,000 pay cheque for a £150,000 wedding.

The show followed him as he took one of Caroline's clients, Erina, on a tour of London's famous luxury five-star hotel, The Savoy, as a possible venue for her dream day.

Hosting 350 guests would set her back at least £70,000 and to stay in the Royal Suite, a further £10,000 a night - although it does come with its own butler.

But the documentary revealed that for women who want to up the 'wow' factor on their big day - and have the budget - couture jeweller Andrew Prince is the man to call.

But Andrew insisted that elegance is often confused with showiness: 'Glamour has changed. It became, at one point, very shiny and that's really not glamorous that's flashy. I like opulence.'

Andrew's creations may be an indulgence but for him there is no better way to spend your money.

He said: 'It's a celebration. We can be really sort of smug and factual about it, and say "oh no one should spend the money on something more practical", but what's more fun than just having a wonderful day?'

Many couples will argue that such extravagance is a waste of money and resources for just one day, however Caroline says that these are memories to last a lifetime.

She said: 'The most important people in your life have come to attend this day. It all comes down to the same thing, it's what you want to spend money on and what matters to you and how much money you have, it's all relative.'

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
Mitchell Dec 2012
She stood up against the wooden bar lit by a stale football field that shined florescent green and highlighted polyester blue like a muse of Van Gogh or Galileo. Her hair ran down the nape of her neck like a ****** waterfall and the light of the bar highlighted her sphinx like eyes as she turned and caught his eye. He stood at a small table away from the main bar with a couple of friends who were telling stories of their old college days and he, half-listening, quickly looked away, faking to scratch his eye, for he knew he had been caught looking at the back of her and she, with her women's intuition of being observed and knowing this, kept looking and he knowing the only way not to show he had been caught was to look away quickly and very obviously; like a bad actor caught dumb and silent, clueless of their next line. They blushed and shared the heat of embarrassment in their cheeks with the sounds of worn dollar bills slapping hard against the smooth wood of the bar, the bar man eyeing it angrily as cigarette smoke surrounded them and slowly drifted up like a lost soul toward the ceiling and the piano man, eyes tight shut played for everyone there when no-one cared to listen, all underneath the dim light of the bar as they strained to look away from one another, trying to find something they could put their focus upon, but, at the same time, wanting very much to look back and have their eyes meet by mistake all over again.

He focused on the design of the bathroom placards that were in the right corner of the tiny bar where you had to turn sideways and touch shoulder's with every soul inside just to get a drink. He feigned interest in the bronze design of the men's bathroom: a tiny boy looking down at his pecker as he ****** a 1/2 inch thick stream into what the man gathered to be a sunflower ***. The boy was thrusting his hips forward, both of his hands on his side, and he showed no smile, no grin of satisfaction or victory, just a stark, blank face, as if he were thinking "I am peeing in this ***. That is all." The women's bathroom sign was of a young girl with the same kind of *** the boy had been ******* in, but it was missing the sunflower and was replaced by the *** of the girl. She stared up into the sky and into the ceiling lights and was dramatically reaching for a butterfly or bird - he couldn't make out which - something with wings and made him think of a basic metaphor that this poor little girl just wants to get off the *** and be free like the birds and butterflies and clouds in the wide blue sky.

She focused on the man's shoes. She looked at the black shine and the pristine black shoe laces, all looking like everything had just been purchased that day. "There is not a single scuff on them and the way this man cuffs his pants only a single turn," she thought to herself, "Tells me he has something of a style on him". Not so run of the mill. Something special. Something of interest.* But then, she was annoyed by the cuff of the pants because she remembered that was what all the schoolboys in her prep school would do when the day was rainy or the boys rode their bikes home from school or they were nerds. The memory immediately turned her off of the man all together, but luckily, she put her gaze back on the jet-black, seemingly un-touched leather that told her success, class, and security.

The man heard a loud Cheer's!" from his table, abruptly bringing him out of his distraction. He was forced to turn and as he did, he made sure not to look up. He kept his eyes on the table and looked for the half-full beer with the worn Budweiser coaster underneath it. He could see from the his top periphery that she was still facing him but she was looking down at something toward the floor. He fumbled with his large hands for his glass and panned his eyes up slightly. The woman, seeing the movement at the table, looked up. She stared back to where she had first caught him looking at her and waited. The man felt her looking at him and in the same instant, saw the faded Budweiser coaster and reached for his beer. He picked the glass up and as the second Cheer! was yelled, he clashed his glass against all the others, all the while keeping his head not toward his friend's faces, but turned in the direction of the bar toward the girl. He smiled at her as he lowered his glass, not taking a drink. His friend slapped him on the back and told him," You gotta' drink after the cheers or its bad luck," and so he did, still staring dumbly at her as he did. She nodded at him with a self-conscious and embarrassed grin, raised her nearly gone low-ball glass of gin and tonic and tipped it toward him and turned around to face the bar.

"I"ll stand here and wait for him to come up to me," she thought, "And if he doesn't the man is a coward and a louse and not worth my time. I have looked twice now and there is some rule in some magazine that I read somewhere, that if you look twice at a man that it is sign, not a coincidence. No, it has a purpose and though I barely know what reason I want this man to look at me other then to get a drink out of him and maybe some conversation, I am certain I have looked twice, maybe even three times. Yes. I have looked at him and I have made my interest known and now I must wait for him to either come or stay with his drunken friends. They look like frat boys cheering like that. They look like drunken, silly frat boys that wouldn't know the first thing about chivalry. Hell, they probably couldn't even spell the ****** word." She laughed under her breath and smiled maliciously to herself and caught her own reflection in the mirror and, for an moment, wanted to quickly look away. Her face did not frighten her, for she was a beautiful woman, not her skin, which was milky white with the faintest and gentlest dash of rouge on each cheek, nor her chocolate colored curls that bounded like boulder's down a hillside. She turned away from a look upon her eye she had not seen or had recognized in a very long time. Her eyes were frightened.

"Frightened?" she wondered.

The man put his beer glass on the table on top of the coaster. The foam rested at the bottom of the cup like the thin layer of ice that blows over a frozen lake, barely there at all passing with the wind. He stared at her back and liked how she leaned on her right hip and put the toe of her left high-heel to the ground, rocking the nose of the shoe back and forth like she was thinking about something playfully frivolous. Behind him, the noise of his friends became a hollow echo, drowned out by the draw of this woman. She swung her left heel back and forth like a pendulum trying to hypnotize him. Someone touched his shoulder but he shrugged the hand away as in this echo chamber he could only hear the music change tracks on the juke box. The song had changed to an old Ottis Redding song and there was nothing else in the world that he wanted to listen to in that moment. As he watched her, leaning into the bar seemingly all alone, no boyfriend or girlfriend in sight, he saw her raise her glass to the barman and knew she had something by the gentle nod of the back of her head. He then saw her point with her left finger and tap the rim of the glass. Her drink was empty. She wanted another drink. He would buy her another drink.

"There is nothing in this world that a man is more responsible for than getting a woman like this a drink," he nodded, thinking to himself and trying to pick up his courage,"One that plays with my heart like a kitten would a spool of yarn, and yet also like a vulture who would peck out the eyes of a dead man in the desert. This is nothing more then that obligation. A rule passed down from man to man, from age to age, where chivalry was not for the base reason to lay with the woman, but to honor them, praise them lightly as the rain from a heavy mist and show them to the pedestal every woman, whether they wish to admit it or not, do wish for, sincerely do at least once in there life." He readjusted his belt and realigned his shirt that had gotten crooked after the celebratory cheer and thought some more,"I'm not going to do that here, this pedestal stuff. This is more like a step toward that pedestal. Yes. A step toward the shrine she wants to trust she deserves and will one day end up on. And this shrine is all cast and painted in the blurry french film noir of dream, is it not? Aren't dreams the only thing we hope to one day come true? How often - when and if they do come true - they can sometimes disappoint and eventually turn sour like a bad orange. I hope she is drinking and that wasn't just a tonic water. If this woman doesn't drink I don't think any of this will be worth anything at all."

She stood there serene and angelic, the hand that held her drink now resting on the base of the bar. Behind the man, he heard the chatter of his friends and the drone of football scores and player updates coming from the ten or more televisions that hung from the ceiling. Someone reached out to touch his shoulder but missed him as he left the table. His name then echoed behind him but soon the sound evaporated as dew does that rests on blades of grass in a summer morning to a summer afternoon. There was only her and her smell that had drifted to his table and shrouded him with the scent of white chocolate and smoke and her delicate, porcelain hand that had held up the drink shyly but not weakly, in passing demand without that demanding quality drunk people can get like at bars sometimes. He approached her, hovered behind her, but she did not turn, and then came up to the bar to lean into. He did not turn to look at her, though he wanted to very badly, but looked down at her low-ball glass with two half-melted ice cubes and a used lime. The smell of gin came from the glass and the man smiled to himself and put his hand up to signal the bartender.

"If this man orders his drink first and walks back to that table with all of his drunken friends, I am giving up men all together," the woman thought to herself," * Tonight and forever! If he can put his hand up and not even turn to look at me, as I was doing, I thought, to be very flirtatious but gentle, then I see no reason at all to keep going with men. They are barbarians that only want to eat, drink, sleep, and fornicate with women that are easy and provide no real challenge at all in their life. If he wants it easy, he can have it as easy as he wants, but not with me. No sir. Not with me ever. Not with me for a night, an hour, a minute, or even a second."

The bartender, a stout slightly overweight man that was a little over forty with streaks of grey in his thin, short-cut hair, looking very much like he should be home reading with a nice cup of tea by his side rather than in the bar serving drinks to stranger's, approached the man and asked him what he would like.

"Two gin and tonics please," the man said, "With a slice of lime and four ice-cubes in each."

"And what kind of gin, sir?"

The man turned to the woman, "What label do you drink?" he asked.

"Pardon me?" she stuttered startled, her eyebrows raised.

"Your drinking gin, aren't you?" He nodded his head toward the woman's empty glass. The tiny lines of transparent lime skin floated on top of the water that had gathered from the melting ice-cubes.

"Yes, I am. I was just about to order."

"I'll get this round and you'll get the next one."

"Any gin is fine."

The man turned to the bartender," Tanqueray, please bartender."

He nodded and went to make the drinks.

"Your very perceptive," the woman said as she turned to face him.

"I try."

"I saw you from across the bar, but was afraid to walk up to your table for fear of getting ambushed by all of your friends. Those are your friends, right?"

"Yes," he nodded as he looked over his shoulder at them, "Old college friends all with old stories of college that, truthfully, bring me little or no joy to even hear."

"Then why come at all?" she asked, "You seem smart enough to know that if you meet up with old anything, you'll be hearing about the old times all night."

"I was forced to come."

"Someone getting divorced?"

"No," he laughed, "The opposite. Married."

"Well, I hope it's not you or this would look very bad if your fiance walked in."

"And why's that?"

She clicked her tongue and turned to look at the shelves stocked with every kind of liquor. The bottles reflected the soft orange glow of the lights that circled the bar and the colors of the television screens. The man continued to look at the woman who had turned her back on him and caught their reflection in a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He waited for a response, but she stood there silent, knowing she was playing with him. Behind him, his friends were growing louder and a tray of shots had found its way to their table. The waitress who had brought the drinks, polite and with a smile, asked them to try and keep it down. They shouted "YES'S and screamed "YEAH'S" with moronic smiles on their faces, their heads nodding up and down like a dog playing fetch. The waitress giggled a thank and walked away shaking her head with disgust when she was out of sight.

"Well," she said,"You did just order two gin and tonics and I think if your fiance walked in with you chatting with me with the same drink in both of our hands, I think she would be a little upset. I know I would be."

"Perhaps we could act like we are old grammar school friends and just happened to run into one another?"

"Well, that would be a lie."

"Yes, that would be a lie."

"Which would mean we were hiding something from said wife."

"And what would that be?"

"That you approached me after I looked at you, perhaps the look from me wasn't flirtatious, maybe I thought you looked familiar, like I had seen you somewhere, and you came up to me and ordered me a drink and started a conversation with me, much like we are doing right now."

"What's wrong with conversation?" The bartender approached them and placed the two drinks in front of the man. The man took out his wallet without losing his gaze on the woman, took out a twenty and slid it toward the bartender. The bartender took the twenty, paused for a moment to see if the man wanted any change, but left when he saw he didn't want any by not moving.

"Conversation can lead to very dangerous things," the woman said playfully and wise.

"Your here by yourself and your not stupid; someone is going to come up to talk to you."

"And your that somebody?"

"I'm sure I'm not the first one tonight."

"Your sweet."

"I try," he said as he slid the drink over to here,"Your drink."

"What should we drink too?" She asked and raised her glass, the light above them reflecting in the ice-cubes and thick glass of the high-ball.

"Conversation," he said proudly and with a smile, "And the danger that it brings."

They clinked their glasses together, their eyes never leaving one another, and they both took a long drink.

"I'm not here with anybody and I'm not expecting anybody tonight either," the woman said.

"What's your name?"

"Why?"

"I want to be able to tell my friends I met a very interesting woman, but they won't believe me if I don't give them a name."

"I'm standing right here, silly. Go and tell them you met the most interesting woman in your entire life, look over at me when they ask you what my name is, then point over to me and I'll wave."

"You'll be here?"

"I'll be here."

"Promise?"

"Go, go, go," she repeated, pushing him back toward his table, "You bought me a drink, didn't you? The least I can do is wave to your drunken college friends."

The man walked back to his table, glancing quickly over his shoulder, trying to hide it, before he reached the table. He arrived to all of them drunk, beer spilt on the table and an ashtray full of punched out cigarettes and ground up cigars. Every one of them were rocking back and forth with each other, their arms sloppily hung around their neighbor's shoulders, their eyes blood shot with their mouth half-cracked open barely breathing in the smoky, beer smelling air. The man struggled to wedge his way into the circle, and when he did, he tried to get the groups attention by screaming an
Lindsey Kristine Sep 2015
Dear Crystal ****,
I loved you
I put so much trust in you
I spent every hour of every day confiding in you
I told you my deepest fears
I let you know how broken i was
and you ******* took advantage of me
You took everything i owned
you stole my family from under me
you robbed me of all my money
We never had a healthy relationship

From the first night i met you
you beat me into a ****** pulp
You made me hate everyone
You turned me into a monster just like you..

You dug your claws into me
You slit my skin with your razors of control
But you just brushed it off and kept destroying me
I tried so many times to leave you
I tried so hard to cut you off
But the attemps just failed

You flooded my mind with thoughts of you
You gave me flashbacks of when we were together
I heard your voice screaming when all i wanted to do was forget about you
You controlled every aspect of my mind
my body
And my life

Then one day i couldnt take it anymore
Your abuse was to muc for me
You had me on my knees begging for a saving grace
I cried
I screamed
I begged god for the light
I wanted to die
I stood on the edge of bridges
I stared at knives and blades
I felt like i couldnt continue with you
and like i definitly count continue without you..

Then one dark august night
God awnsered my prayers
He wrapped his arms around me and rocked me to sleep after so many weeks without closing my eyes
I slept for almost 4 days
Waking only to use the restroom and to shove any food i could find in my face
You slowly left my system

You didnt go peacefully of course
You paniced
You clawed
You begged me not to do this
but i didnt listen

I stayed true to myself
I finally left you...

Things wernt smooth at first
I felt lost
I was confused about everything involving life
I didnt know who i was
I thought i would for sure go running back to you
But i gave it time

I pushed through the hot and cold flashes
Ignored the hallucinations and the fevers
It was pure hell on earth
But the torture was worth every second because leaving you was the best decition i have ever made for myself

Tomarrow is 30 days free from your shackles
Life still is a constant struggle
But honestly
I would not expect any different after breaking free from the cage of satan and into the sunlight of heaven

I now hae so many things to be greatful for
I have a roof over my head
I bed to sleep in thats not jail or a hospital.
I am a cherished member of y family again
I found love unexpectedly with a man who makes me feel like the most beautiful woman on earth
I have my goals and morals back
I see a future for myself
and most of all..
I am thankful i am breathing because you almost killed me

Someone once said
"Dope heads never quit, they only take extended breaks"
Well, i am proud to say i never am allowing you back into my life

So thank you ****
Even though you shattered every part of my soul
I now have a brand new outlook on life
I also never would have asked my now fiance for a ride home if you had never made me so sick i was in the emergency room
I dont regret you
Because i learned so much about myself and life from you

But now i can finally say...
I ******* hate you and i will never be with you again

Sincerally:
One greatful proud, life loving forever ex tweaker <3
My letter to the monster I overcame.
amc Jan 2014
i can't ******* breathe.
i can't ******* do this anymore.
it isn't ******* fair.
why does he get to be happy?
when he took everything from me.
i'm ******* pathetic.
i can't even look a man in the eyes
and tell him how i feel.
and he gets everything he ever wanted.
he ******* ***** me
but somehow he still gets a fiance.
and now that ******* fiance is pregnant.
what kind of ******* is that?
he gets everything he ever wanted,
and i'm still barely holding on.

i can't fix myself, can't love myself.
he moved on with his life a long time ago.
and i am still stuck in neutral.
he gets to be happy,
when i fight the urge to stand in front of moving vehicles.
he gets a family,
when i am fighting for every breath.
he gets to have a life,
when i can't ever seem to get my **** together.
he gets to forget about me,
when he haunts me every day.
it isn't ******* fair.
because right now,
they are cuddled up and sound asleep.
happy together in their bed,
knowing that together, they are starting a family.
while i am lying in my bed, crying my eyes out,
because my ******'s fiance is pregnant.
all i can do is hope that one day,
this will no longer haunt me.
that one day i will kiss my child's forehead good night,
and crawl into bed with a loving husband.
all i can do is hope that one day,
i will get better.
because if i lost hope now,
*there would be no hope for me to make it to tomorrow.
when i first saw you i new u were  the truth i choosed .
So thanks for doing all that u do to make everything  true.
When  i couldn't  move i knew that u were the men at the moon.

Waiting on me in a room,  telling  u that i couldnt be fooled .

But baby i knew that you  did so much you can do .
To prove  that you love me to .

i love ❤ huby husband fiance
to my wonderful  fiance husband
Jane Doe Apr 2014
Biology has no conscience
It doesn't care about love
It cares about reproduction
Biology does not care if someone gets hurt in the process
Biology does not care if he was your boyfriend
Fiance
Husband
Biology has no sympathy
Lust is not the same as love
But often it is mistaken as such
4 letters
3 out of the 4 make all the difference
You are part of an on going experiment
Observed by a classroom of billions
Constantly watching
Constantly scrutinizing
Harshly graded by a force that you couldn't comprehend
Don't try to change this
People have tried to change this for longer than you could imagine
Embrace it
OCD
What's it like to have OCD?
   Did I count the times I shut the door? One, two, or three?
What's it like to have OCD?
   I read my school assignment a few times too many, just to guarantee.
What's it like to have OCD?
   Every night, I leave my fiance in bed for a while, so I can walk around and check everything; are both doors locked? Is the Dawn where it's supposed to be? Is the sponge correctly aligned? One... two... three
I have had pretty bad manifestations of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder since his mother moved in. She's a hard-headed person, and although she's polite and courteous, well... I suppose nobody necessarily *likes* it when their in-laws move in. But, I find that rather than come out and confront her when things she does bother me (when I do, it causes problems and he gets stuck in-between, which is a problem for us), I instead internalize. So, instead of calling her out when she leaves a mess or says something I would refute, I go into the kitchen and check on something I know is just fine... but, it's compensation. Either way, I guess I'm crazy. I KNOW she is.
Bride to Be:
Oh how could he do this to me?
I trusted him undoubtedly!
Now I lie upon the grass
Hoping one day a man will pass,
And steal my heart from my chest.
So I can escape this god awful mess


Fiance:
My heart is trapped inside,
A woman of a common kind.
Continually forced to pay the fee,
Of dealing with those bound to flee.
I swear I could give her all she needs,
the complete effect of fantasy.
But I would be remiss.
In not mentioning her recent fear to kiss.  

Bride to Be:
I am a wallowing bride to be
Wallowing in misery
A month ago surrounded in bliss
Until he had to take that risk
All because he heard a scream,
Trailing from a crimson stream.

Fiance:
My face is cut and torn to shreds,
And now my love won't be wed.
I only did what I thought was best.
Yet I was surely led to loneliness.
I heard a scream from down the street,
And so I immediately took to my feet.
Saw the face of a woman scorned,
And a man who saw fit to leave me adorned
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
i can't stop feeling this pounce of melancholy,
and i mean: it's like a lynx pouncing on my chest,
i can't even claim a clinical dimension to it,
it's a sadness that comes on two fronts...
   it's a sadness that i left Poland when i was 8,
and the greater part of my life was spent
using the English language...
         and i find the Anglophone world so devoid
of consistency... all this post-truth
          labelling...
       this throwing of the cartesian maxim the other
way around, the "i am" really does
   predated the "i think" scenario on the hopes
of asking for a genesis, a (0, 0) / (ο, ω) coordinate
beginning... yes, i know more of a dougnut
   and less the orbit of a planet in the latter case...
     i can't believe i'm getting this technical -
but it sometimes happens, you know?
i don't really like it... i'd love to write about less
claustrophobic matters, less constrictive intellectual
matters... and before you shoot me down
by denouncing the crass lack of motivation -
                i am frail in undertaking another "poem",
and i mean that as a way of saying:
              terse narration and no claim to technique,
or at least that's what i know is modern...
           i watch the following list of videos
as a sort of freak-natured lullaby while drinking
Obey the Walrus         I FEEL FANTASTIC
Agamemnon Counterpart       Username 666
Cursed Kleenex Commercial      There is nothing
Performance Olivier de Sagazan 2008  
     The Wyoming Incident        My Dead Great
Grandma’s Coffin in My Own backyard!
K-Fee Car Commercial       Pretty Woman
Fatal Diving Accident        Girl Goes ****** During
Makeup Tutorial       Paris Catacombs Lost Footage
Shaye Saint John – Hand Thing (yes, copy & paste
given the uppercase lettering, i can be lazy
once in a while) -
                          so i do see a lot of potential in
these clips... if you can't dazzle them: might as well
scare them...
                      but i watch them and then write
a native-language poem while listening to
    music accompanying a zbigniew herbert poem
by tadeusz woźniak - and i get all nitty gritty
when using a language i should have forgotten
aged 8... and i type one out and i am brought
to tears with it... and then it vanishes from the html
blank...
             and then a deeper horror sets in,
which Ezra Pound would have liked
and it merely means: ten quotes by Horace,
a video, with only 230 views on youtube...
                    no one would dare say carpe diem
like a cliche after seeing this video...
             but still the sadness persists...
and i can't make it systematic, not systematic in
the sense that it might appeal to the zeitgeist of:
the January blues, or... i need the pharmacological
rainbow...
        i have a miniature vineyard... enough for
35 litres of wine... and i make the wine myself...
i pick the grapes...
i crush them, i buy the yeast, i melt the sugar until
i get runny sugar-thick water,
   and you know? out of the 5 litre holders for it...
i get about 10 pristine bottles of wine,
roughly in the range of 15% a pop...
                   from 35 litres i get about 10 pristine bottles
of wine... quality-wise: the stuff you'd expect to
buy in a shopping market...
       and that's the sad part...
it bothers me that i've waited for long for the wine,
i might have mentioned it a few months back that
i do actually make my own wine... but given the addiction
it's a product that could only last for something
worth celebrating...
                     these days people speak of a marathon's
worth of abstinance from the stuff for a month...
    which is a bit sad, given that if people ventured
into producing their own alcohol, they'd have
a Dionysian month of binging on it... and then having
11 months being sober... until the natural cycle comes
back, like the rare event of a comet...
    i'm sad i lost a few poems on the way...
but i'm also sad that the drinking should begin by spring
and that i'm ****** already...
                  that i'm still buying whiskey,
and when i do actually drink that one bottle of clouded
wine today, i'll feel a sense of the most minute accomplishment...
   i can't stop facing this industrialisation of
everything... whether it's alcohol, or art...
   or intellectual debate...
   sure, i'll listen to Breitbart for a bit...
then i'll listen in on how we've began mutilating
language... then i'll think of god, and recount
kant's concept: imagine the pangs of despair i felt
reading through the second volume of the critique -
if you do: you'd be surprised by what's involved
in transcendental methodology...
    what could possibly obstruct you in the existence
of: said word... not enlarged in religious practices?
   i am comforted by the fact that kant deals with
god on a non-religious basis...
    religious i mean: worthy of a reciting only one
book a thousand ******* times and building churches...
if god is merely lodged in your mind and allows
for a narrative, who is sane enough to take that
narrative initiative from you, considering the fact
that you're not bound to kneel and read only one
book a thousand times as if that one book held
the sole capacity for your vocab exfoliation and learning
of the alphabet?
     how can you ever be bound to a cognitive detestation
of god? that really must be painful...
considering that thought is so ****** whimsical, frail,
   picky, panicky... give it all you want...
you can't establish a cognitive detestation of god
  on the simple ground that thought is being bombarded
by a 5:1 ratio of the senses versus 1 non-sense -
    which god evidently is: given the numbers of
the good-church going folks... kneeling lunatics i call them...
but the simple fact that you want to do a lobotomy on
yourself with atheism, is a bit like saying
you'll censor the mathematical statement 1 + 1 = 2...
      at least the concept of god is: language exists...
and can i add to that? if a being as such exists:
he wouldn't consist of games... the verbal colliseum
of anagrams and crosswords... language you seize
to be entertaining... it would spell out a clear
format: a x, y, z      vector precision:
    starting from point (0, 0) moving to (1, 1),
  (2, 2)        to ( 5, 5) etc. you'd get a y = x graph...
   not a ******* parabola of nuance and political
chess... or nuanced ***...
                    and is that a.i.?
           well: the french question about man inventing
god because it would be useful is much better said
these days since we we have the capacity to create ourselves...
and given how it looks: i'm going to be a caveman
trapped in a two-dimensional world of the collective
consciousness by the time the true avant-garde in this
medium starts... creating a god became boring...
so many had to recreate himself in the robotic form...
    man is currently needing this exploration...
forget the space project... it's a case of definition...
but i'm still melancholic about the wine...
     i've been waiting to sniff it and feel the sharpness
of the alcohol for a good 3 months...
       and i really wish i could write in my native tongue
so easily as i do in my acquired tongue...
     i'm sad because i'm drinking the whiskey
prior, rather than getting completely sloshed on
what alcoholism looked prior:
    it's that curse of town insomnia and how we don't
celebrate enough of what comes with natural
cycles...
              which means that ontology is dead...
given we've managed to tame the seasons...
  means that any ontological question, based on
the cycle of wine-making, brings us to a more dreary
position than with nietzsche's god is dead...
look here: at least you have something tangible...
   you can't erase god from thinking...
it's the primost a priori essence of every, single man,
it's not an a posteriori fact,
god is there, in that a priori medium like space
and time...
                              and why do people never claim
that god can contain a dualism, primarily because
the herd is encapsulated by a monotheism?
              if god could ever be an a posteriori you'd
be forced to experience some sort of revelation,
and later encounter the evil contained within the concept's
dualism, so in actual sense: be considered mad:
for not making certain choices in life and wishing to
reach for the pulpit... mind you: i had such an experience...
and my life didn't become better for it...
     evidently i should have pressed harder for
the ontological argument of: marrying the girl...
but then the same ontological argument came back
to me when i started making wine...
                      meaning i could produce alcohol
on an industrial level... and forget any ritualism involved
in consuming it prior... since i would only be
left with an addictive socio-pathological use of the
once celebrated, collective engagement by waiting for
autumn to ferment and keep me warm through
the winter... which i suppose is when all the Greeks
were kept together... drinking and ******* rather
than bother to exploit natural resources like gas and oil...
but hey! that's just me...
         but there's a sadness behind this...
start making your own wine and you'll see it...
which is to say: i don't know whether i'd have lived
a happy life with my russian fiance...
             i have only a quantum idealism to mind
expressed by fanciying myself counter to the history
i'm writing right now...
    so why is god as a priori bound as time and space?
well... why would you otherwise get so many eager
atheist gobs to reach for an argument?
                  i find that the most authentic atheists are
murderers... why? they have transcended
    the cognitive debility of an atheistic argument...
      i'll prove god does not exist by "thinking" about it...
my my: what a lovely congregation you have there!
      i'm not even trying to be clever here...
  well... there's an antidote to this scenario...
               so he's permanently lodged in our a priori
  "consciousness" (might as well do away with psychiatry
******* about with its three-layer cake of
con- subcon- and uncon-) -
                   and he's not lodged in our a posteriori
"consciousness" - i hate becoming the fiddler on the roof -
because what then? experiencing the omniniscence
and the omnipotency and whatever other trait that ******
thing does, would translate as what?
     at best a monotheism... or a place where people concentrate
in numbers... not necessarily worths of being beyond
the estimates concerning their congregation...
            it's dangerous to claim a god in the a posteriori
realm...
                that's why the safest place to keep him is in
the a priori realm... where all the big things happen,
or don't happen, depending whether you're from New York
or Hiroshima...
                    and following from kant's distinction
in transcendental methodology concerning time and space...
and god...
                 it dawned on me that he did see a distinction
between mathematical language and the lingua of
  doodling and anagrams and all those poetic jives that
give no precision...
    if time... then space...
                    if god...            then nothing...
and how are dual in the a priori realm...
       only that with regards to time and space
i'm more likely to throw a 1, or a 2 into conceptualising
these things, than i am to throw an a, or a b into it...
    algebra is secondary in talking about these two mediums...
why? because i'll get a definite rationalisation of
time and space... if i tell you the fastest man on earth
can run 100m in under 10secs...
                       if i throw in x y z into this: i might as well
end this whole narrative with: oi! Zeno! give us
that Achilles joke!
                when i mean god i mean: medium of
communication... that's not necessarily a democratic
omni-versed plateau of sponging everything every human
has to say...
       but i primarily throw 1, 2, 3... 4, 5... 8, 9 and 0
into the a priori conceptualisation of time and space...
  but if i do the same when i throw in the other symbols
into the a priori conceptualisation of god and nothing -
sure, mathematical symbols can be phonetic encoding,
as one, two, three, four... five, six...
          but apply them as one two three four to time and space
and there's no way to rationalise time and space,
because time and space is met with a nonsense
in dealing with a phonetic encoding of 1 (as one) -
due to the vacuum of space... and the timelessness of
    time as a ref. point fixated upon... let's just leave
it with the vacuum of space... 2 overpowers two (because
of to and too), 3 overpowers three (because of free)...
4 overpowers four (because of for)... not only that:
but they're more about photographic memory
and visual conceptualisation ease - no one really bothers
   a - z to be anything more than: what they actually
are as phonetically: awaiting pronunciation.
sure... letter can become mystical in a sense of:
   y looks like a tree (other than pine),
           H is a rugby goal...
                               w is a cosine graph...
                    y is a serpent's tongue...
              but that's mysticism and that's also: fair enough!
what bugs me is the opposite of the a priori
magnetism... as opposed to space and time...
god and nothing...
     well... if i throw 1 and 0 into a priori thinking
about working time and space...
  i'll get, say: 365 days in a calendar year...
               or that the acceleration of earth if 9.8 metres
per seconds squared... (cubic gravity evidently
becomes a bit pointless -
                                        imagine it:
   9.8m/s(superscript)3...   or 9.8m(superscript)2/s...
or whatever variation...
no wonder the chemists got the ****-end of the stick
when they were told they weren't allowed into
the heaven of superscript... but sent to the subscript hell
of writing dwom oxygen... ah shame: Faust! i'm coming!)...
yes... but throw 1 - 0 into the a priori
"conceptualisation" opposite of time and space,
i.e. god and nothing... the best answer you can get
is matthew chapter 1 verse 8... or SIX SIX SIX!  boogie man!
well... not... you throw in the symbols α - ω
into the a priori "conceptualisation" of god & nothing
and you get, e.g.: δατυμ -
which basically means: it can't be meaningless -
       otherwise we'd be stuck with animalistic intuition
and intelligence, overloaded with sensual intelligence
and not marred by the murk of thought...
  how this devolution happened is beyond me...
  no amount of wit makes up for the sensual sharpness of
a monkey shouting at a congregation: spy! snake!
and all with the bare minumum of phonetic distinction...
    thus α - ω are slightly meaningless when it comes
to time and space, i know these symbols to enter
this a priori venture, but we're still primarily talking
about using 1 - 0 symbols to get at the knitting-work...
just like in verse, i say of a crossword
    sound of Valhalla (4),
                 and you say: 1 across... horn!
                              and then we get the pretty picture.
3a.m.
       and the wine ritual is about to begin...
      
There are days
I feel so desperately alone
Being single
Feels like carrying a thousand pounds in my heart

But than
I spend an evening
With one of  my "brothers"
(what I call my close guy friends)
And I feel blessed
Blessed because although I don't have a boyfriend
Or fiance
Or husband

I have my brothers

Boyfriends may come and go
Fiance's may leave you
Husbands may one day abandon you

But brothers
You may fight with them
And argue
But in the end
They will always be your brother
Your friend

And I have many brothers
Not born of my mother

And for that
I am blessed
Phoenix93 May 2013
Ya know, I really don't believe a word you've said.
I keep running over the lies and secrets floating in my head.

You say you wanted everyone happy and not for me to hurt.
Then why didn't you back the *******, instead of continuing to flirt?

You two spent so much time alone, and you knew what it would do.
You knew you'd cheat on your fiance. And you knew I'd want to hurt you.

Ross Baldwin, what the ****? Are you really just that dumb?
Yes, I'll use your real name. Because I straight up don't give a ****.

I hope everyone you know finds this, and I hope that they see
Just how badly you ****** up. I'm tired of letting you be.

This is my passive attack. ***** me again and I'll make sure they find this.
You're my best friend and I'm not taking this ****. I'm tired and I'm ******.

If you leave your fiance for her, you better run and hide.
Because I'll pay everything back. You'll burn for every time you two lied.
Mrs Timetable Apr 2023
Seeing her turn around
Watching him
Walk into the room
Both adorned
Made his way to her
Leaned over the row of chairs
Her upper body pulled towards him
An embrace
His left hand
On her long dark hair
Disheveled upon where
Her neck meets her face
And then a sweet kiss
On her bloomed cheek
Meant just for her

Everything in my mind stopped...
This meant so many things to them
Hello my love
How are you? My best friend
My future
All the meanings of love
But
I've seen this before
Havent I?
Ever so openly
Simply done
When a older one kisses a baby
A mate kisses you goodnight
Kissing someone you've missed
This simple expression

But this
So secretly beautiful
In full view
Kindness and respect
For each other

In my mind
I looked around
And asked myself
Was I the only one
Who saw it the way I did?
True story.

I love it when a man puts his hand on a womans face and kisses her. I melt.
Allyson Walsh Jan 2016
Decisions are kind of a funny concept. Some people believe that everything happens for a reason. Others believe that each decision has a domino effect on other parts of life. Have you heard of the butterfly effect? This idea believes that every decision leads to various outcomes, and that there are multiple paths a person can take. I like to agree with this statement.

Decisions are what make a person. At least, they're what show a person's character...

I observe ordinary character on a regular basis. I work at a liquor store in a town of roughly three-thousand people. I know the regulars by name, and I can tell who's had a rough day or who is excited for the weekend by what they purchase. I know when Barb is furious at her husband because she buys two liters of *** and the smokes he hates. I can tell when Dave is on good terms with his fiance because he skips the Fireball and heads straight for his 24-pack. Bob... is really just Bob. He comes in and buys a liter of coke, a liter of Bacardi, and a pack of Marlboro reds every day at 4:30 on the dot. Each of these regular's decisions display part of their character. Many of their purchases can be influenced by their emotions... but what part of life isn't?

You're probably wondering when I'm going to get to my point. That'll be a couple hundred words further. You of all people know how great I am at ranting.

How is my minimum-wage job connected to decisions and character? That's a good question. Each decision leads to a specific outcome. These decisions are based on the character of a customer. Their character is displayed in their decisions at my dead-end job. Anyway, back to your decisions.

Decision Making
Relationships are basically a hurdle of decisions. Deciding how to sleep together. Deciding the best way to kiss despite the height difference. Deciding what to say when meeting the in-laws. Deciding when to say "I love you". It's decision after decision after decision.

I like to think that each decision can lead to various outcomes. For example, if I would have never lost my virginity to a one-night-stand and cried about it to the girl living across from me, I would have never met you. So, if I waited to take off my clothes or if I cried about it to my roommate instead, this last year would have gone a lot differently.

I'm beginning to work my way to your decisions. First, let me state that you were the most indecisive person I have ever met. You were passive. You were lukewarm. You were flat. You were only certain on one thing: your admiration for college basketball.

I have to admit that you were decisive on your verdict to be with me... for a time. I guess I have to give you a little credit. You weren't all bad. There was a lot of good in you. But, there was a lot of rottenness underneath your tall, dark, and handsome physique.

The Beginning of the End
You decided to avoid a decision from the very beginning. Sure, it was me that you wanted. I mean, I was great. I still am. I may be biased, but I don't care. You wanted me... but you didn't want the price-tag I came with.

What did I tell you from the beginning? Let me refresh your memory. We were sitting on a lime green couch in the lobby of our college. It was close to midnight and I was exhausted but didn't want to be without you. I told you that I expected you to:

1. Be honest.
2. Be faithful.
3. Pursue me.
4. Make me a priority.

I didn't ask for much. I was searching for... Oh, I don't know, a relationship that sounded pretty standard in my terms. I wanted something serious, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't looking for fun or liveliness. These requests were normal, in my mind.

I then asked you if you would choose me over your mother. I knew you were close to her... and I hadn't met her yet. Also, for some reason, I already had a feeling that she despised the thought of me, and the idea of her little man bringing a girl home... (God forbid she have a brain on her head).

I didn't want to be tantalizing. I believe I am gentle in nature. But, if everything worked out, I wished to be the number one woman in your life... not your mother. I restated my question after a few beats and you continued to ponder the thought. After a few seconds you told me, "No, probably not. But I might change. I want you." That should have stopped me in my tracks.

But it didn't. We were together for about a year since that night. We kept things quiet for a few months before becoming "official" or whatever. Your decision or avoidance should have sent me running... and it did... to you.

I think part of myself knew that I deserved better. Also, part of myself believed that there was beauty in maltreatment. But, I saw potential in you. You were my best friend.

You were... I was in love with you.

I was willing to fight for us. I was willing to fight for you. I was willing to battle it out... and I saw myself coming out victorious, like the warrior I truly am... but, you were a battle lost from the very beginning.

Whatever "Fighting for Me" Looked like to You
Things got worse when confusion arose between your mother and I. She thought I was sleeping with you (when I wasn't). There was a lot of yelling... most of it was in Spanish. I was scared. I was petrified. She believed I was ******* up her perfect son. This put us on unsteady ground.

This was also the first time I saw you cry.

It was a battle between what she wanted and what I wanted. She wanted me out of the picture. I wanted you to stand up for me, and to stand up for us.

You chose me. This would be the one and only time I came out as the number one priority. I believe this was because you were over three hundred miles away from her piercing eyes and thin lips. It was easy to put us first when she wasn't there to "knock some sense" into her son.

Your mother didn't speak to you for months. She was furious. She was angry. Her dislike toward me grew with every passing day.

Letting the Bruises Heal
For the next six months, things seemed to get better. We fought but made up. We talked of the future while understanding that we were still young. We grew as lovers and as friends. We made promises and kept them.

But, the semester was ending. The snow was gone and the grass was nowhere near green. Three months of separation were just around the corner and I knew of the trials to come. I also knew that if we could make it through the summer, that we could last. That is, if we could make it with your bitter mother by your side.

Seperation Leads To...
Three months of fifteen minute phone calls every once in a while dragged on. I was patient with you. We were both working our tails off. I was taking summer classes. You spent any and all of your extra time off working for your dad or training for soccer preseason. Still, I was patient.

We saw each other twice during the summer. Those days were some of my happiest within this past year. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Those first moments of seeing you were like revelations. All of the time away made sense. The eight hour drive to see you made sense. We made sense.

It was during your stay at my house when I realized I didn't want to be with anyone else. Ever. It was the first time you told me you were in love with me. I felt the same. We didn't just love one another, we were in love.

It was during my stay at your house, a few months later, when I realized things were heading south.

Temptation
We fought. We fought a lot during the month before I drove to Wisconsin. It was almost daily. Somehow we made up... somehow. You were stressed and I was anxious. I was anxious and afraid.

But, I came down to see you, nonetheless. Most moments, I believed we were healed. We could conquer anything. Others... I knew your mind was elsewhere.

Although, when we said goodbye, I believed we were true. You made me a promise I was sure you would keep. Our goodbye was the second time I would see you cry.

Looking back, I think I know why. You were tempted. You were more than tempted.

Decisions and Indecisiveness
The day after I got back home, you said you "wanted to take your promise back".

Two days after that, you left home to go to a camp I knew nothing about. You "couldn't take your phone" but I knew better than that.

We went an entire week without talking. And I knew something was wrong. I had never felt so sick in my life.

You eventually returned home from camp. But, it took you two days to respond to me. Once you finally called me, you told me you "couldn't do this right now". Then you hung up. That's when I knew it was over.

I was furious. I was jealous. You were tagged in pictures on social media with a few girls in particular.

1. Phones were allowed.
2. You were awfully close to one girl.
3. You were lying through your teeth.

We met up on campus a few days later. I had a list of questions that just about vanished into thin air when I saw you. You were ruggedly handsome... And I was still in love with you.

You greeted me with a hug. I just about cried.

You explained to me that your parents gave you an ultimatum. It was me or college. Stay with me, and college was out of the funds for you. Break things off with me, and college would be paid for. You told me you chose college.

You explained how you "needed to do this for yourself".

You also told me you didn't love me anymore.

You decided against me.

The Entire Truth
I was confused. I was heartbroken. Nothing made sense. It was like you gave me a puzzle that was missing more than half of the pieces. I spent the next month trying put the thing together. I came up with one single solution... but I didn't want to believe it.

My hypothesis rang true through a friend. I believed you cheated on me. Yes, I was sure your parents pulled their big levers; but I believed you were hiding information from me. You were.

I can't go into the details because I don't know all of them. In fact, I probably never will. I've ran through every scenario a thousand times in my head, and I still come up short.

All I know are your decisions. Your decisions show your character. Your character is flawed. Your decisions broke a large part of me. I am still attempting to put myself back together.

Out of all of your indecision, out of months of tug-of-war, you were so decisive on leaving. You were set on cheating. If anything, I wish I could ask you why.

Why did I always seem to come up short? Why wasn't I good enough for you? Why did you choose money, college, and your family over me? Why did you choose her over me?

So many questions I will never get closure on.

Deciding to Decide
I have moved on... for the most part. There are still days (like today) when I miss you more than anything. But, I am stronger. I am certain that I was good enough for you, even if you couldn't see it. I am also certain that you were the first person I was truly meant to be with.

Remember when I mentioned the butterfly effect? I know that different decisions lead to various outcomes. We have the choice. We decide where our life goes (or we choose indecision).

Your decisions led to a different life. A life without me.

And I think, as of right now, I'm okay with that.
For WY

Not poetry. I don't know where else to put this.

Insanely long. A lot of ranting. A lot of heartache. A lot of decision making.

I can't pack our story into one piece... but I tried.
kali ma May 2010
fishnet pantyhose
mexican dinners
men with a big noses
competing, being the winner
women scented like roses

words of praise
cats
getting a yearly raise in pay
the sound outside my window and knowing it's bats
calling in sick to work, and spending the day at play

seeing stupidity and smiling
the laughing of my nieces
writing a good poem without trying
hug by my fiance and falling to pieces
Nadia Dec 2013
If you had not cheated on mom and ******* up my mind with divorce.
If you still lived with mom and me you would know there's no school.
You would know snow stopped the buses so I'm stuck in the ****** house.
Mom is still on another all night date with like her million personals ad hookup.
My net fiance wants me to come on gaiaonline to practice for our honeymoon.
What to do when I don't like what he's typing or sexting?
Dad you called to bellow I am late for a school not in session.
Mom turned off her cell phone so she can be laid without me interrupting.
What to do when I don't like his sexting what he wants to do to my body.
Never had *** with anyone or had my body touched like he text to me.
Kids 9 years old are doing it and getting married on the net.
Easy when you got parents like mine who are dumb and care only about their lives.
Y Rada Nov 2016
My superman, my duke, my demigod!
Ahh your visage was absolute perfection!
"I'm in control, you're in my world now"
I chanted in my thoughts many times -

I approached you with so much confidence
Femininity was my golden armour
Seduction was my double edged sword
Slowly, lustily, hungrily - - - -

WAIT!

****! This dream was my realm
Then why was she here with you?
I gulped down my surprise because
You stared and smiled at me gently

"Oh, my prince charming" I thought
You nodded at me and said respectfully
"My fiance & I would like to order our lunch..."
I didn't hear you because I fell on a black-hole!

I suddenly woke up with tears on my cheeks
I didn't know which was worse actually
My dream last night about you and her or
The reality that you will never be mine - - -
Dedicated to all those who got nightmares like these instead of sweet dreams. Tsk tsk, dreams are supposedly our realms to be with the person we adore. But reality sometimes caught us - even in our dreams.
Robert Guerrero Apr 2013
I'm bored and the title says it all
I really have no life
I only have a girlfriend
(Sorry I mean fiance)
But I'm home alone like always
And there is absolutely nothing
For me to do
Time to start drinking
SALUD!!!
Nicole Feb 2019
I realized I was definitely
Capable of loving more than one person
As I stood ****** in a bar
Positioned at a table between
My partner and my ex-fiance
My ex and I had gotten food beforehand
My first time seeing them in a year and a half
And I swore to everyone that it wasn't gay
I believed it too for awhile
Up until they said they didn't want kids
Which was part of my own logic used
To explain our incompatibility
Hearing their stories made my heart ache
All of the things I'd missed in their life
All the things they missed in mine
Then that night at the bar
When a performer was called on stage
My ex mentioned that she was my favorite
A small fact I didn't think they'd remember
Yet it carried such a significant feeling
That left my heart heavy and fractured
And when my partner looked at me I felt guilty
They must be able to see it
To sense it
These residual feelings
That I swore were not there and were
Definitely not gay
And while lost in my mind
My ex looked at me and asked if I was ok
They could still see me
I wanted to run away
My mind kept screaming for an escape
And yet I also heard a whispered voice
Reminding me that this time with them
Would be the last quality time I'd have
Before we returned to being strangers
So I shouldn't waste it
Because as much as I crave their friendship
I know in my heart it'd never work
Friends would never be the word
It's always been and
Probably always would be
Something much more than that
So I'll let it go
I'll let myself mourn these feelings
Despite the dreadful pain of it all
Because we all deserve to be happy
And by giving up this ill-fated dream
I know one day I can be
sinderella Sep 2013
instead of taking notes
in our college class
i'm writing down
sad and cute rhymes
for my future poems

i'm with close friends
but i want to be in bed
cuddling my dude
miss him so bad
when he's not
holding me
in his arms

i am attached
to my boyfriend
or shall i say
fiance?

i want his kisses
or else i'm not satisfied
i miss being called princess
makes my heart melt inside
© sinderella.
Amber K Sep 2016
It was January the 19th, 2011.
I was 15, he was almost 16.
I had only ever spoken to him once online.
He was like a mythical creature that I found out actually existed.
He had been at my school the whole year and I never seen him before.
I remember seeing him look at me.
I thought his eyes were as blue as the sky.
I felt my face blush as he spoke.
Later he asked for my number.
We began talking and he immediately had me hooked.
I pretended not to care,
but I let him know how I felt the next day.

I remember it was January the 26.
The day I got home to see a weird text on my phone.
It said he was lying.
That he was nothing but a lie.
I texted him,
hoping he would have a good excuse.
That's when he apologized,
and said those three words.
The three words he knew I had never heard from a guy like him.
"I love you" he said.
I stopped.
I was young and dumb,
and he knew that.
He knew I couldn't turn away from him.

It was February the 2nd.
We were outside,
just talking like we always did.
That's when he grabbed me,
we stopped and he leaned in.
I broke away and hugged him,
I pretended to not know what he truly wanted.
He then held me in place,
and kissed me.
My first kiss.
I hated it,
but I told myself it was magical.
I bragged and smile,
but inside it felt like a hurricane had been released inside of me.
My first real taste of the anxiety I know so well now.

Fast forward.

It was July the 4th, 2011.
We watched the fireworks with my friends.
Everything seemed magical.
The one thing keeping us apart was gone.
I felt so free and happy.
He kissed me more this night.
Even though there was nothing to feel guilty about,
I still didn't feel right.
But I ignored it and we continued our night.
That was the night we started our relationship, officially.

After that,
things get blurry,
but I remember some things so well.

I remember spending time with him after football games.
We'd get away from the crowds to talk,
but he always wanted more.
Each time he grew more forceful,
but I was able to push him away,
sometimes...

Then I turned 16.
I felt this age would be better.
I'd be stronger.
I could handle myself better,
and no one could hurt me.
This was going to be my year.

I was wrong.

I remember the first time he touched me.
It was the first time my parents actually trusted him alone with me.
I tried telling him not to.
I tried to resist and say no.
He didn't care.
He continued.
I remember praying for it to end.
I didn't know what to do.
He said it was love.
I told him it wasn't okay.
He was persistent.
He didn't care.

I remember when I started going along with the things he did,
just so I didn't feel as broken when he tried forcing me into things.
Each time,
I felt as if I died a little more.
I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating,
but it's truly how I felt.
I was a 16 year old who never imagined her life would be this way.
I felt defeated.
I wanted to run,
but my feet felt grounded.

I remember the times I fought back.
I remember him continuing.
I remember him pinning me down.
I would've cried if I wasn't trying to hide the shame I felt.
I wanted so badly to scream.
I wanted someone to save me.
No one came.
No one was there.
I somehow fought t him off before anything too awful happened,
but my spirit was still broken.
I still felt empty.
Broken.
Worthless.

I remember when I found out he cheated on me.
First it was with a girl who lived miles away.
I was hurt,
but I directed my anger towards her.
I don't understand why I was angry.
I should've just let her take him...
but I was young and stupid still.
Then I found out he was seeing a friend of mine.
That was the first time I self-harmed.
Because he didn't care that I knew.
He continued,
and he said he didn't care with no remorse in his voice.
This broke me.
I had so long believed that he truly cared for me,
and he suddenly seemed to see me as a nuisance.
Again...
I forgave him.
Like a stupid little lovesick girl,
I let him back in my life.
One of the biggest mistakes of my life.

Things got worse.
He began to count my flaws.
"You're boring".
"You don't do enough".
"You need to put out so I know you love me."
Word by word,
he tore me down.
I tried telling myself it would work.
I wanted it to work.
So as the words cut deep into me,
and as he continued to get more and more physically forceful,
I continued fighting for him.

By age 17,
I was turned to stone.
I didn't see those "sky blue eyes" I tried fantasizing about.
They were now just ice-cold and soulless.
The things he said didn't phase me much anymore.
I still tried fighting for myself
but it gradually got to the point where I felt too exhausted to fight.
I tried making us work,
but there wasn't much to salvage.
He was destroying all the hope I had since the beginning.

February 2013.
We had been arguing one day,
the whole day.
He wanted to go to some party that weekend.
I knew there would be girl and drinking.
He couldn't be trusted.
I knew what he was planning.
I told him I didn't want him going.
He wouldn't listen.
He continued to tear at me,
with those harsh words he knew were knives to my heart.
That night he called.
We instantly began arguing.
"I'm going, whether you like it or not!"
he exclaimed in an 'I'm in control here' voice.
"Then we're over."
I said bluntly.
"What? Are you serious?" he sounded so defeated.
I loved it.
I then told him I was serious and hung up,
with no explanation.
I think he called back and I told him I was honestly done.
I then called my friend who I told everything to.
I told him how I was sad everything was over,
but for the first time in almost 2 years,
I felt free.

For weeks he begged for me back.
Even after his secret girl had came forward,
and told me he had been cheating our entire relationship.
He actually thought I would come crawling back to him,
and it killed him to have no power over me.
I loved having so much power over him,
but I was not harsh.
I just said goodbye and lived my life away from him.
Not once did I even begin to say yes to his pleas for me to return.
Even when I felt broken down and lonely,
I refused to ever even exist next to him.

Weeks turned into months and he was still persistent.
I'd get a text every single month from him,
asking how I was.
Telling me he missed me and still loved me.
Each time I'd just say something like "Sorry".
I wasn't sorry.

Fast forward to the end of that year.
I hadn't seen him in awhile.
My loneliness had somehow developed into unresolved anger.
I realized everything he had done to me.
I understood that he had destroyed my self esteem...
my self worth.
The next time I seen him he tried saying hello.
I screamed at him.
He never tried speaking to me again.

I'm 20 years old now.
I am engaged to a wonderful man.
We have dreams and goals that we will accomplish.
He tells me I'm beautiful.
He is the one for me.
His eyes are blue.
Sky blue.
The warmest eyes I've ever seen.
He's been with me at my worst,
and supported me through my best.
He is the one I was looking for when I was 15.
It took awhile to find him,
because of the guy with the ice-cold eyes.
But I still found him.

It's been at least 2 years since I've seen the guy who once broke me.
I seen his mom the other day,
she stopped and told me how she never forgot me,
and that she accidentally calls other girls me all the time.
She also told me that he is getting married soon.
Years ago,
I would've said something like "I feel sorry for that girl"
or maybe "Tell him I said I wish him the worst, okay?"
But I politely smiled,
said to send my best to them,
and told her that I had to hurry home to my fiance.

That's when I realized something.
Although I break down sometimes,
and I have moments where I wish I could just scream in his face,
and punch him,
and hurt him as bad as he hurt me...
at the end of the day I remember,
he has no control over me anymore.
I am free from him.
I may never see his face again,
and I am okay with that.
Yes.
He did break me.
But because I was once broken,
I found out I was strong enough to heal.
I realized that I am not weak like he had me believing I was.
I am strong.
I have value.
And I will never have to feel the pain he put me through again.
I know this may seem pointless to a lot of people, but I had a lot on my mind tonight and I felt like telling this story that I have trouble telling people.
Kat Sep 2013
The last poem I published 'Days Without You' Is for the love of my life. I am his fiance and forever will be and I am carrying his child. About a week ago he tragically ended his own life in front of me.  I have been struggling so much, but I know he is finally at peace. I shall love you til the end of time darling.
Will Mercier Aug 2012
Hers was the first face I found
freshman year at FSU.
I'll always remember that garish orange and green gator shirt,
and pin with the picture of a bulldog,
hanging from a noose.
I thought, oh Jeez, she's got school spirit,
and I shuddered at the image,
of cheerleaders, and sports stars, recieving preferential treatment,
but my first impression was far from the mark.

She had a smile for miles and eyes to match.
And a laugh that could shatter a frown.
And she laughed any chance she got.
The few pictures I have left of her,
she is laughing and smiling in each...
That big toothy smile,
and that magical laugh...

I remember the first time she kissed me.
I was playing my guitar on campus,
back when everybody did it,
not just pretentious *******
trying to show off.
She came up behind me,
and did the old hands over the eyes routine,
and of course I knew her voice immediately.
She turned my head and kissed me,
for the first time,
and I could hear the whispering,
and feel everyone's eyes on me,
and it felt pretty **** good.
How I wished someone had snapped a picture,
for the FSView, with the caption
" Future valedictorian kisses scruffy hippy freshman.
Entire student body baffled."

I was baffled.

She was the talk of the campus,
she spoke her mind always,
and she was active all over the campus,
doing this and that.
I asked her one day,
"Why do you make your life so complex,
when do you rest?"
and she said
"My life used to be complex, because I made it that way.
But believe it or not, with all I do around campus,
really my life is simple and fun. If I didn't love what I am doing
I would stop Will. Life is too short for complexity."

I laughed, and I thought to myself,
this woman is more complex than she lets on.

We went out for my entire freshman year,
but she graduated my sophmore year,
and she got a job in London, and she moved away that summer.
I said I would visit...I never did..
She said she would write...she did, once,
to tell me she was getting married,
she even invited me, but of course I didn't go..
She enclosed a photo of her and her fiance,
and it was clear what she saw in him..
he had a smile almost as big as hers,
and of course she was smiling too..
Of all the images burned into my memory
that picture is the one that hurts me most.

I wrote back, wishing her luck, and I told her I couldn't come,
I never heard from her again, but I prayed that night,
that he would treat her right, and if he took away her smile,
I prayed he would suffer, until he put it back.

Every time I close my eyes, I see that picture...
that smile...
I hope she's smiling, even as I write these words.
Sℳǐζξ May 2014
Our hello turned into this,
A love so strong,
So true so real,
So filled with bliss.
We'll never end you said,
Through your kiss.

Our love turned into this,
Two beautiful babies,
On their way.

I can't think of anything else to say,
Your my fiance the love of my life
The father of my children,
I love you.
Nadia Dec 2013
Learning to sext and he puts mmmm in texts.
Read my dad's chat on Facebook and he writes that.
Read my mom's messenger chat and she writes that.
I don't write that to my net fiance I think it's stupid.
How can you type that when you feel nothing when
you sit there typing about doing ****** stuff.
I never had real life *** but is it supposed to feel like you feel nothing?
Emily Tyler Sep 2013
It was supposed to be fun.

New school, new supplies,
Thin, neon highlighters glowing inside
Vera Bradley backpacks.

Skinny folders assigned to
Pointless subjects,
Which would be fattened
With pointless homework
By the end of the day.

It was supposed to be fun,
And for a little while, I forgot.

I forgot until History.

The new teacher hadn't lived here
Longer than a week,
Which was why he was
Excited
About teaching.

He had on a brand new tie
From Banana Republic
Which was obviously tied
By his wide eyed fiance.

His classroom was bare, as he explained,
"Don't worry,
I ordered posters yesterday."

The teacher wasn't the problem.

The problem was,
Between Richardson
And Roberts,
He still existed.

At least in the school system he did.

"Ashley Paulette?"
"-Here."
"Abby Richardson?"
"-Here."
"Bennett Rill?"

And my life shattered all over again.

The silence felt
Deafening.

Remembering how he wouldn't be there.
Not ever.

"Bennett Rill?"

The teacher was confused, looking around the room
For someone
Who was buried six feet under.
Someone who the teacher might've thought
Was sick, or vacationing.

It was supposed to be fun.
But then I remembered
One of my really good friends, Bennett, died on the last day of school last year. There are more poems about him on my page.

— The End —