Picking petals
Sep 30

Picking petals
like you picked apart
my heart.
each piece drifts
to the ground
You loved me,
you love me not.

Petal by petal.
Piece by piece.
Till nothing's left
but a vacant stem,
an empty vessel.
Left to wither away
never can be whole again,
can't get back what's been taken.
You loved me.
You love me not.

I envy the flower,
for while it dies
after being picked and torn
to peices.
I survive,
these injuries won't kill me
but I'll never be the same.
so i'll continue picking petals
You loved me.
You love me not.

#love   #heart   #break   #flower   #unrequited   #petals   #wither   #picking  
Mike Hauser
Mike Hauser
Mar 13, 2013

I started out this morning

Not intending to write a trilogy

One subject that I failed to pick

Is right in front of me

Keeping the air waves free of debris

Is why I dig so deep

It's better to pick what's between my eyes

Than what's behind between my cheeks

See Holmes
See Holmes
Jun 16, 2013      Jun 17, 2013

"I'm sure we were meant
to grow this uneven,
a seesaw of sorts
with me down
ever crawling up."

We can love like this...

"I'm sure we were meant
to love and to lose,
a flash of something
beautiful and
noteworthy only
because of its extinction."

I shouldn't hold on to you so...

but dammit,
I'm still calling
you mine.

(seeing you hold on to him,
it's time to let go)
Lauren Ashley
Lauren Ashley
Apr 8, 2011

she placed her fingers upon the seed of distrust
so distraught was her own intoxicated mind
he didn't find her beautiful, he loved her not
he wasn't there to define her boundary lines
she placed her hand around the bottle's curves
hope put in a better place that satisfaction finds
knowledge that someone would find her beautiful
knowing that someone would love her at least for tonight

Oct 30

It cradles between your cupped
Palms, a big red strawberry
That pours its thick syrupy juice
Over knots in tongues
After whispering tales of birds;
It strains between every pause
Before it gets to scream and
Stutter your syllables to whatever
Fleeting, uncaring wind drifts past
It's red pulsing lips that stretch
Its fingers out to grope at the feeling
That recedes to memory when you
Have to go.

drunk on dandelion milk:
this dragon-fly, cotton-cloud haze
dulls my ears to each petal's cry
as I seek a flower's counsel in love.

Picking up trash is my dance agony.
janis tsai
Aug 12, 2010

The summer heat in Ypsi pounds my back
drumming notes of sweat into my clothes.

My song of labor for all to see.
Yes, I did it. Yes, this is me.

How my muscles contract and move in time,
One, two, trash
One, two, trash
Picking up trash is my dance agony.

A dancing soldier-I step and I bleed.
I look up at the sun-my source of melody.

The sun is my musicbox
-my tune and my clock.
I cannot stop dancing until the sun stops.

As her Majesty lays excitedly crumpled
in my pocket, I dance down the street
amidst rubber masks and credit cards,
hoping that I will find you between the
shadows, the pantomime villain I have
come to love.

Mike Hauser
Mike Hauser
Oct 21, 2013      Oct 23, 2013

She loves to spend her time

Far off from the light

Where she can clearly see

To pick stars from the sky

Puts them in her basket

Where she takes them home

Pastes them on her ceiling

Making constellations of her own

Nov 4      Nov 5

Your heart was hidden behind petals

He loves me
He loves me not

And as I plucked each velvet fortune

He loves me
He loves me not

I found your love becoming clearer and clearer

He loves me
He loves me not

And I knew
I would never have to
pick at petals

He loves me

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