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Benji James Jun 2018
I remember when you were four
I caught you drawing on the wall
I couldn't get mad
Instead I just laughed
And I still have
The finger print painting
that you made
In fact I had it framed
I have every art piece you made
To remind me that your always here
with me spiritually

All These tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's
Holding you in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

We were at the hospital
I was sitting beside your bed
And you wiped the tears
Underneath my eyes
Then I heard you say
Daddy please don't cry
I like it better when you smile
So I smiled
Don't say no goodnights or goodbyes
Yeah princess your my little fighter
My inspiration, my perfection
My saviour, my hope, my strength
Your everything I am
I'll carry that with me forever

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's
Holding you in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

I still remember
when I heard the doctor say
(There's no heart rate)
That line still haunts me
Your mother and I fell to the floor
Neither of us wanted to get back up
It felt like we cried for hours
And then I felt
something give me strength
Then I remembered what you said
Daddy please don't cry
I like it better when you smile
So I pulled myself back up
from the floor
Took your mother in my arms
Carried her back to the car
You were every step
You were every breath

All These tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

I still remember when
I heard the priest say
May she rest with angels
watching over her
May they share there
infinite love on high
May they protect
her blessed soul
Let the Lord take her
Into his loving arms
To keep her safe from harm
I said Amen to that princess
And I've seen you in the stars
Yeah you'll never be to far
For we are always
With in each other's hearts

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

Sometimes I sit in your empty room
Imagine you playing, drawing
Creating all those games
You used to play
With your vivid imagination
A world of your creation
It's like your still here
I can feel your essence
I can feel your presence
In this place
It's where I go to relive your memory
That you left for me

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

©2018 Written By Benji James
This is a fictional piece of work that I wrote back in 2015 I wanted people to experience and feel through a heart-wrenching piece of writing and this is what I came up with and the journey that I chose to take people on.
Sleepmonger,
deathmonger,
with capsules in my palms each night,
eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey.
I'm the queen of this condition.
I'm an expert on making the trip
and now they say I'm an addict.
Now they ask why.
WHY!

Don't they know that I promised to die!
I'm keeping in practice.
I'm merely staying in shape.
The pills are a mother, but better,
every color and as good as sour *****.
I'm on a diet from death.

Yes, I admit
it has gotten to be a bit of a habit-
blows eight at a time, socked in the eye,
hauled away by the pink, the orange,
the green and the white goodnights.
I'm becoming something of a chemical
mixture.
that's it!

My supply
of tablets
has got to last for years and years.
I like them more than I like me.
It's a kind of marriage.
It's a kind of war where I plant bombs inside
of myself.

Yes
I try
to **** myself in small amounts,
an innocuous occupatin.
Actually I'm hung up on it.
But remember I don't make too much noise.
And frankly no one has to lug me out
and I don't stand there in my winding sheet.
I'm a little buttercup in my yellow nightie
eating my eight loaves in a row
and in a certain order as in
the laying on of hands
or the black sacrament.

It's a ceremony
but like any other sport
it's full of rules.
It's like a musical tennis match where
my mouth keeps catching the ball.
Then I lie on; my altar
elevated by the eight chemical kisses.

What a lay me down this is
with two pink, two orange,
two green, two white goodnights.
Fee-fi-fo-fum-
Now I'm borrowed.
Now I'm numb.
Jellyfish Dec 2016
Thanks for always staying by my side
and making me laugh, when I'm ready to cry.
You're my best friend, from you, I'll never hide.
You're the only one I want to share with my
*"I love you, goodnights"
I hope this came out right.
Victoria Maretti Apr 2013
Goodnight texts;
What goodnight texts?
They don't seem important when
the only goodnights I want said
are those we whisper in your bed.
Nicole Eden Oct 2018
HE GIVES THE BEST HUGS
"you like long hugs don't you"
he knows i do
so he envelopes me in his warmth
and squeezes me till i feel giddy like a little girl
and sometimes
he even rests his chin on my head
and i wonder if he is memorizing what my shampoo smells like
and it's for this exact moment that i push through my workload each day and
it's for this exact moment that i walk through the rain each night
his evening smile is tattoed in my mind so i can dream peacefully
and he never fails to follow up with a simple love you snap
HE GIVES THE BEST GOODNIGHTS
Ben Holders Apr 2013
Whisky breath and
cold sweat stench
fill this room
as there are fewer hours
till work
than will sober me up.

One last cigarette
One more affirmation
To keep the promises
we will slumber past
their breaking point

Class can wait
Work can wait
Life waits for none
I wait
For life to
Become
More than cycle
Of light and dark

Of stagnant art
And stagnant words
That still drip
From the corners
Of my ethyl lubricated
Mouth.

That still pool in
Your soul as
You drift to sleep

Goodnights said to every
Underage youth now
Napping away
Morning rush.
Garbage Dog Oct 2015
It's been 5 months
Recovering from 2 years
Of gentle giggles and heart felt hugs
2 am conversations and 3 am tired kisses
5 am would bring brightening skies and quiet goodnights
You always were a night-owl

I remember running through the forest
Staring out at our special spot
Listening to the water trickle down the creek
And something about the sparks in your eyes
Really made the place disappear
Even surrounded by all this magnificent nature
I was still lost in your beauty

I remember telling you my dreams
The adventurous journey across the Milky Way
When it rained clocks and time stopped
And that really stupid one about the tricycle in the skate park
You would always listen and tell me yours
But the real dream was seeing you when I woke up

I remember many special things with you
You were my first girlfriend
My stunning homecoming date
The first person to make me cry out of happiness
You were my best friend
I will never forget that

I remember a bitter-sweet memory of us too.
The room was quiet
I only heard the scratching from your pet mice.
The street lamp crawled through the blinds
And a warm hand touched my red, flooded, cheek
And our lips met
My first kiss, Your first kiss
Complete.

It's been 5 months
Recovering from 2 years
Of gentle giggles and heart felt hugs
2 am conversations and 3 am tired kisses
5am only brings my tear filled eyes nowadays
*I've always been an insomniac
Ashlea Apr 2015
I want your 2pm rants,
I want your 8pm cuddles,
I want your 10pm "goodnights."
And most importantly,
I want to feel you next to me
at 4am.
Pulling me closer,
making me feel safe.
Benji James Jun 2017
I remember when you were four
I caught you drawing on the wall
I couldn't get mad
Instead I just laughed
And I still have
The finger print painting
that you made
In fact I had it framed
I have every art piece you made
To remind me that your always here
with me spiritually

All These tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken a way

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's
Holding you in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

We were at the hospital
I was sitting beside your bed
And you wiped the tears
Underneath my eyes
Then I heard you say
Daddy please don't cry
I like it better when you smile
So I smiled
Don't say no goodnights or goodbyes
Yeah princess your my little fighter
My inspiration, my perfection
My saviour, my hope, my strength
Your everything I am
I'll carry that with me forever

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken a way

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's
Holding you in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

I still remember
when I heard the doctor say
(There's no heart rate)
That line still haunts me
Your mother and I fell to the floor
Neither of us wanted to get back up
It felt like we cried for hours
And then I felt
something give me strength
Then I remembered what you said
Daddy please don't cry
I like it better when you smile
So I pulled myself back up
from the floor
Took your mother in my arms
Carried her back to the car
You were every step
You were every breath

All These tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken a way

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

I still remember when
I heard the priest say
May she rest with angels
watching over her
May they share there
infinite love on high
May they protect
her blessed soul
Let the Lord take her
Into his loving arms
To keep her safe from harm
I said Amen to that princess
And I've seen you in the stars
Yeah you'll never be to far
For we are always
With in each other's hearts

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken a way

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

Sometimes I sit in your empty room
Imagine you playing, drawing
Creating all those games
You used to play
With your vivid imagination
A world of your creation
It's like your still here
I can feel your essence
I can feel your presence
In this place
It's where I go to relive your memory
That you left for me

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken a way

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

©2017 Written By Benji James
This is a fictional piece of work that I wrote back in 2015 I wanted people to experience and feel through a heart-wrenching piece of writing and this is what I came up with and the journey that I chose to take people on.
anonymous999 Nov 2013
i know a boy with blue eyes and big hands
and i swear i met him twice.
once in may, and again in the june of the following year
the first, we laughed like lovers
and treated each other
like the world
i fell into his blue eyes
[the ones always on another]
and wished for his big hands
to stay very near to mine

but his words became emptier than his heart
the day he kicked me out of his life
for her,
in november.

the following june,
we found ourselves brought together
by a force so intense and natural
you'd have thought us magnets,
him the polar positive, and i, of course, the negative.
so we met again.
i, the same too-tall, too-broad,
blonde hair but brown eyes long-legged girl
and him,
a much more beautiful creature.
the same beautiful eyes, but more aquamarine
the same large hands, made tan
but he still had that tricky warm heart
that drew me in
it became in the second-too-long lingering of his
large hands along my waist
the look in his ocean eyes when i walked away from him
at football games
with the consistencies in his goodnights
it began to finally feel right
i’ve found roses hidden along deep wooded paths
and love hidden among memories that last

all i know is that im finally happy
and ive fallen in love with
a boy of ocean eyes and easy hands
whom i met
twice
inspired by @fleuroculous' the 'boy i met twice'
Sleepy Sigh Feb 2011
And now the good day has gone around
To somewhere near New Zealand,
(Which is all the better, for I hear they are in
Deep need of good days)
And the “goodnights” have come
And gone to bed with yawning lips,
And the empty loom is stocked with threads
To weave new dreams, good and bad.

Now I nestle in with pillows
And ice for one of my Icarus burns.
It is hard to express why the sun still
Shines in my chest, warms my shirts,
Smiles against my breast like a robin’s
Breast smiles gratefully back to the sun.

Today was a good day,
And tonight is good,
And the stars have not forgotten me,
Nor the moon turned her face away
In one of our play fights,
So I cannot help but fill with warmth,
Though our bright conductor has marched off.

I’m still humming yesterday’s song -
Which is like the call of a mockingbird,
A little bit borrowed, a bit absurd,
But after a long good day, I find
That I cannot say with my words
What is best expressed by birds.
Jared The Human May 2017
A goodnights rest is a mystery

Maybe heaven is a goodnights rest
Because on this forsakenplanet I can't have  one good night of sleep
There's nothing that could forgive what I've seen
I think my eyes are asleep
But my mind motions to my heart wondering if this is who I strive to be?
And my heart just responds with another question
Like,  is this really Me?
And I can't help but think
Like I literally cannot help but think
I actually wish I could turn my brain off and sleep
But I am in way too deep
I've seen way too many things that one can't just unsee
So please forgive me
For not being as good as I could be
I wish my eyes could see some kinda hope or love that's out there
But I'm surrounded by dark and I can't help it but stare
Like look at what my eyes see ?
What could all these lies be
Let's Believe all of them and see how close to death we can be
Dominic Simpson Aug 2013
This is about my Grandparents. They got married in the 1920's . . When one didn't get divorced.
My Grandfather kept a diary, though he didn't know my Grandmother read it most days.
He believed he'd been trapped into marriage, for much of their time together and was very bitter . . He failed to see what she was all about for a very long time . . Not the easiest marriage . . This is about that.

Eiderdown Diary

In previous prose
The pages of my days
Payed homage to my . .
Crucified vows.

What I thought love .
Meant Ambition . . sold for scrap . .
Traded for a shotgun wife's,
Wed . locked . Bed . . .
White lies in kisses

A Mans need
******* two more souls
From that sanitary bed before
Work withdrew me . . .
Fridays drank frustration dry
Saturday screamed . . for Sundays relief . .
My respite found in working weeks

I drank her tears for years
Bound by habitual responses
Through disabled conversations . .
Through polite goodnights I . .
Sought Belief . . .
Yet still washed Sundays Cars

Then Pension planned retirement . .
Though Circumstance a change

My never mind Lady
Beckoned . . Persuading
The Cancer Degrading my Days away
My shadow sipped her sun
Became perfume in pages
My Eiderdown Diary

Morphine removed me
Soothed me to Bed
Time instead she said
To understand . . Then
Kissed my forehead . .
Held me dead
May 2023
it was the sunset that promised you a new day, a better day
the colour of her smile after she made a silly joke
the adorable giggles she hid and the shy confessions she made

the warmth of her hugs, words and her eyes
it was the comfort that bloomed when she told me 'everything will be okay'. the safety I found in her eyes when I nodded, believing it too.

the sleepy goodnights and cheerful good mornings. it was the orange love between yellow smiles, forehead kisses and red-burning flames of passion

love that was always there, even when the sun went to sleep.

it was the all-encompassing flutters in my chest when we were together. orange butterflies racing against one another.

orange was the colour of her love, like the sunset, that always promised a better day
orange hugs. forever missing you.
chris Oct 2015
you stopped saying your goodnights
and thats when i knew i've lost you
mark john junor Sep 2013
they danced as one
under the candles and mirrors
his dark gunslingers boots perfectly matching her steps
her hair flowing in the hot air round his face
entangled in emotion and motion
enduring in passion
they danced deep into the night as one
this was joy

the day a furnace of desert sun
the street a wander path for hardy soul
he sat in thin shadow
and breathed slow thick air
watching the slice of horizon
that he could perceive
he knew that someday his brother would come
from out of the wild country south of the borders
knew his brother would come seeking revenge
for the betrayal

the gunslinger and his lover rose
were the talk of the town
how she had tamed the wild man from the southlands
how he had saved her from a life of disgrace
everybody loved them
everybody wanted to be them
modern day romeo and juilet
but romance is no suit of armor
and danger was at the door

the lawman rode all night
and camped on a hill above the town
there by his campfire looked down on his brothers happy new home
saw the light in his brothers window
and plotted his move

last call at the saloon
and the townsfolk drifted out into the darkness
by one's and two
calling out their goodnights in voices
tinged by beer and wine
the gunslinger and his beloved rose
fell to their bed embraced in love

morning slipped over the horizon
the lawman walked slowly down the hill into the town
reckoning had come
his brother would have to face the gallows
for his betrayal
calling out the gunslingers name
calling out like a voice of doom
calling his brother out to face justice
part two of three...see part one here http://hellopoetry.com/poem/lay-with-wolves/
Nicole Jun 2013
I heard the buzz of the phone on my desk,
While I lay in bed but can't resist the urge to check;
Thought it'd be my mom or my friend again,
Even after having goodnights sent.
Should have known it'd be you,
So out of the blue.
I read your words so bright in the dark,
And tonight that's all they are:
Words, words, and empty somethings.
Not tonight sweetheart, it's worth about nothing.
Because if you're going to add fuel to the flames,
In the end don't expect not to feel the pain.
When the fire turns back on you, it's yours
Because I won't take your burns anymore.
it started with goodnights seeming too much like goodbye and now i cant even remember the last goodnight but everything is screaming goodbye but even with every sign and signal i still probably wont get a real goodbye and just thinking about you leaving hurts but you leaving without a single word seems so so much worse
Erica Chen Aug 2010
Nothing really happened in my life,
never a kiss in the rain, a starless night
by the lake, nor a farewell note under
my pillow. Even so, I got paper flowers for
getting out of the way in Valentine's Day.  

I don't know you, but you've never been a Stranger to me.

You weren't him, were you? You don't
know nothing about me, do you? You
don't even care, you don't have to.
But you break into my life anyway, and
keeping a Smile on my face ever since.

How could you know me so well without knowing me for real?

And I wish you were here with me,
Holding sweetly together, you could
kiss my tears aside. Yet there you
are, not knowing anything, eating
your breakfast with my Goodnights.
To a British Sweetheart
Kara R Jul 2012
Where I’m From

I am from mosquito lotion
From Burt’s Bees and soft jazz.
I am from dancing with my grandfather on the wooden floor
(My feet, bare, pink with tiny toes
Stepping on his shiny shoes as we twirled.)
I am from the rainy mornings
The hiding places
Where no one thinks to look,
And I sit and wait - alone but not lonely.

I am from the indecisiveness and good humour
From the boy who owned only wooden shoes and the lady with the diamonds
I’m from forget me nots,
And the kiss me goodnights.
I’m from the hurt knees and Starry Starry Nights
With a special dedication to you
And I’ll believe in what I want to, thank you very much.

I am from the middle seat to the left of the dinner table,
Second-is-best and Jollibee.
From the comfortable silence
To the “authentic” family ghost stories.
The childhood my father gave up to be able to grow up
And support his family.

I am from the crumbly track,
Fastening sharp spikes on the bottom of my shoes,
The jumpy nerves as I approach my starting block.
From the thump of my heart, my shoes slapping the ground in a rhythm I know so well.
From the rush, the thrill of crossing that finish line.
Watching the day surrender to night, my team stands beside me.
And still I am running

On my shelf I keep a blank notebook
Waiting to be filled with secret fears, adventures and bigger-than-life dreams.
No one knows it exists.
If they find it, they’ll know I want to escape.
I am from these fitful nights,
The toss and turn but don’t wake me ups.
The wanting to be a dream catcher, not just a dream passerby.
In dreams I find no one molding me for a legacy, for a perfect GPA, for a successful future;
Complete control.
A parody of Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon
Mic Buenafe Aug 2016
the hands I held that give me warmth became cold
the lips I pressed in mine that used to be sweet felt numb
the arms that used to be my home is now shattered
and the hugs that made me secured felt chaos

goodnights meant goodbyes
goodmornings felt so sad
conversations became stale
and "I love you" meant no longer love

and that was the moment I knew
I lost you
fore you guys start reading this, I would like to give you a brief overview of what it’s about. First of all,  I think it’s extremely unhealthy and can only lead to bad things even when you’re in the happiest of relationships. A week ago, I received a very detailed message in the page’s inbox, the first words were “My Confession”. It was from a man who wanted to share his mental weight with someone, anyone. So I started reading it, and it made me tear up after each line. This is about a man (who wishes to remain anonymous), a man who spied on his girlfriend because of his insecurities and trust issues, but the way it ends is just brutal. I’ve edited a few parts out, parts that were a little too much to handle. Believe me, editing this entire piece wasn’t easy, but the guy wanted it published, he wanted to world to see the dark side of relationships, and so here it is. I hope you guys have an easier time reading it than I did while editing it. It’s going to be in his own words, exactly how he sent it (with a few parts cut out because of certain restrictions).

My Confession: I spied on my girlfriend for a month, she’s my ex now

Hey “A” and “Z”, I’ve been an avid fan of yours for over two years now. I just LOVE the way you talk about relationships and how pure they are, it kind of burns my heart sometimes because I never received that purity, all I got was trauma and hatred out of love. I don’t know you guys personally but I love your work and I know you guys help people out too while keeping things anonymous. I would like to send in my confession, confession of spying on my girlfriend for a month. This wasn’t easy, writing all of this down just reminded me of what I went through, but I badly want to share it with someone. I actually want the world to know that relationships aren’t all “happy and nice”, some relationships are straight up brutal! While I gave it my all, it just wasn’t enough, and I had to find the truth through different means, means I’m not proud of today but I’m at a better place knowing that I’m not being made a fool of anymore.

Her name was *. We met through work, she used to work in the same place as I. We started off being very normal friends. Slowly but surely, our conversations started becoming meaningful, they went from being “just about work” to “about life”. This is where she started showing me her weak side, and it was pretty weak. I believe that when a woman shows you her vulnerabilities, she wants you to be in her life. And after a few months, I started having feelings for her, they just kind of developed on their own. I started noticing the increase in the number of calls, messages, hangouts etc. It was all happening so naturally and I was falling deeper in love with her. At this point, I was still too afraid to ask her out because we had a good friendship going and I didn’t want to ruin it. But this had its toll on me, I started getting possessive about her, it started bothering me. She used to have this other friend at work, he was better looking than I was, and I’d always been pretty insecure about my looks, so I started creating a distance from her and thought she’d be better off without me (yeah, I’m pretty pessimistic about myself).

After a few days, she noticed the change in the way I talk to her and she started complaining. That’s when she showed me the first sign of “having feelings” for me. That’s when I realised that I stand a chance and I shouldn’t be afraid. So, after a lot of hours of overthinking, I asked her out. To my surprise, she said yes instantly! I was over the roof! I can’t even describe the feeling in words, I just can’t. I was euphoric, I hadn’t felt such happiness before in my life. To be accepted by someone you have feelings for is a huge feeling, more than words can describe. So we started going out. Our entire office knew about our relationship, even the “good looking guy” (keep him in mind, he is important to this). We were crazy together! Exactly how you guys describe “good and healthy relationships” in your articles and page, we were exactly like that. We used to read your articles together and tell each other how happy we are and how many good qualities match.

Things were going pretty good for us. We used to have our usual fights and arguments, but they were pretty simple and used to sort of fix themselves. It was heaven for me, I’m not kidding, heaven. It was surreal. Even after 7 months of dating, we never got bored of each other. Things were just awesome. Except for one thing, she had a habit of using her phone a lot, even when we were hanging out, she used her phone 90% of the time in intervals. I used to complain about it from time to time but it never used to work. Technology these days, it can work both ways, for both good and evil. With apps like Snapchat, Whatsapp etc. you can basically do anything with anyone without the world knowing about it, it’s that scary.



I slowly started getting paranoid when I noticed that she’s online on Whatsapp even after we are done talking and we’ve said our “goodnights” and “I love yous”. Her “Last Seen” was off so I never knew when she was actually sleeping. I never discussed this with her but I spoke to a friend about it. He said it’s nothing. He said that it’s probably a bug that shows the wrong status of being online. And I wanted to believe that, so I trusted in that statement and let it go. But deep down, my paranoia was still growing more every day. But believe me, I tried fighting it as much as I could. I even started getting “busy” tones more often when I called her. She used to tell me she was talking to her brother (who lived in another state). And I used to try to believe her.

One day, it happened. We were out for dinner and she had gone to the bathroom, this time she didn’t take her phone with her (she always used to take it with her). My heart started racing because I badly wanted to have a look inside that phone, I wanted to see if something was being hidden from me, If I was being lied to. But I also didn’t want to be more paranoid, so I tried fighting myself. But after a few seconds, I justified it in my head. I told myself that I’m probably not going to find anything, and then I’m probably going to be mad at myself for looking and it’ll all go smoothly. It didn’t go that way. I opened her phone up (it didn’t have a passcode on it), and I went straight to Whatsapp. I found a very long and intimate conversation she was having with the same good looking guy from the office. It went on and on, in great detail. They used to meet up, she used to go over to his place (while I was told that she’s going over to a friend’s house). It was all there, right in my hands, a year’s worth of relationship down the drain. A year’s worth of feelings down the drain. It was bad, my hands were shaking and I couldn’t feel anything for a few minutes. But I wanted to catch her cheating, so I got a grip of myself, held my tears and put the phone back.

And that’s when I started “spying” on her. I used to be very aware of what she was saying, of where she’s going etc. I was heartbroken but I tried my best to be the same in front of her, to not show any sign of sorrow or regret but it was killing me inside to not push her out of my life. It was disgusting. One fine day, she told me she was going to her “friend’s” house. And I actually followed her in a friend’s car. I followed her all the way to the house. It was the same house, the house I was hoping it not to be. The guy’s house, the good looking guy. After ten minutes of waiting outside, I went and knocked at the door. It was him, with a very weird smile on his face, as he looked at me in a state of shock. I forced myself inside (at this point I wasn’t even feeling normal anymore, I was filled with rage) and saw her in his bedroom. I just stood there, looking at her in silence, the tears started flowing right out in front of her and I left, without saying a word. I instantly blocked her from every possible means of communication. She tried contacting my friends, but none of them let her get near me.

It’s been five months since that incident, and I still have a lot of questions that I need answers to, but I just don’t want to spend another minute with her, I just don’t want to waste another feeling on her. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love again, but I surely won’t let anyone play me for a fool again. So, for everyone who’s reading this, please don’t let your feelings go to someone who doesn’t deserve them. Please don’t get cheated on. And for those who have similar experiences, you’re not alone.

Thank you guys for reading this, I would be very happy if you posted this on your website, I really want to know what people have to say about this. Thank you.

Talk to me

If you guys have anything to say to him, please let him know in the comments below, he is going to read them all. As always, stay blessed and keep the love alive.
kairos Oct 2015
Let me tell you a story.
It's about a girl,
just about eleven.

and her first year in middle school just started out
just,
so,
well.

she was happy, funny, bright, hard working, but like everyone else,
she had flaws. But she didn't hate herself.
she had no emotional illnesses.

one day, a boy she hardly knew asked her out.
she was flustered.
she said no, out of panic and the fact that she didn't know him.

later, he got her number and they talked.
she told him everything about her and was honest.
she could be weird and the boy made her happy.
she eventually started liking the boy.

the boy asked her out again.
the girl was tempted to say yes, but she was only eleven,
and what did she know about boyfriends?
she decided to say no.

the boy and the girl texted everyday,
although they were shy with each other at school.
she thought she was having the best year of her life.

Christmas came around.
the girl, wanting to get the boy a present,
asked him what he wanted.

he said he wanted a girlfriend for Christmas.
the girl hesitated, but he wanted a girlfriend- she thought-
she said yes, and became his girlfriend.

everyday was like heaven to her.
they hugged, and it felt like she was dreaming.
she was filled with pure joy,
each day of her life could not get any better.

the girl got attached to her boyfriend.
they texted as soon as they got home from school until dawn.
they fell asleep with "goodnights" and a smile on their face.

the girl was purely happy.

now, this continued for several months,
and the girl would get occasionally mad at the boy.
it wouldn't last a day,
because she was so obsessed with him,
but the boy never apologized.
the girl didn't like that,
but because she liked him so much,
she forgave him each and every time.

the Golden Age of their relationship was January.
they texted from sunrise to midnight.
they gave each other presents.
the girl said "ily" occasionally.

she really did mean it,
if one knows love at the age of eleven.


the girl thought that their relationship would last forever.

but February came around along with Valentine's.
the boy stopped texting her as often,
and the girl,
being so in love,
still texted the boy every day.

non,
stop.

the girl began to cry at nights.
she thought the boy had moved on.
she cried.
she couldn't bear the thought of being without him,
because she felt so loved.
she trusted him with everything, yet the boy...
he didn't like her as much as she liked him.

the girl was overjoyed when the boy would finally text her.
even though she felt unstable about their relationship,
she couldn't imagine breaking up with him.

March second.
The girl had a friend.
her friend was a boy, and he went by the name of Lettuce.
Lettuce was also her boyfriend's friend.
The girl started telling Lettuce everything,
from her deepest worries
and her corniest jokes.

but she still loved the boy.
she was twelve by this time.

March second.
the girl decided to take a depression test
because she felt so devastated when she thought that
her boyfriend had moved on.

it turns out that she did have depression,
anxiety,
and high levels of stress.
she told Lettuce.

but,
she had problems with Lettuce as well.
all she wanted was someone whom she could tell everything to,
no matter how weird or sad it was.
but she could tell Lettuce didn't really care.

but she continued to text him because she had no one else.

March sixth.
the girl was to meet the boy's teacher after school.
it was a Friday.
she walked to the classroom full of hope.
her friends walked down the ramp,
with the boy a few paces behind them.

I'm sorry,
the girl's friend said.
The boy likes someone else now.
He doesn't know if he likes you anymore,
they said.

the girl felt the world crumbling beneath her.
she was numb, and it couldn't seem real.

she stared at the boy, who walked past her,
staring at her.

she couldn't believe it.
I have to be strong, she told herself.

but all she could think about when she walked back to her locker was-
what am I going to do without him?

she felt the hot tears.
it took a moment for the truth to sink in,
and when it did,
the tears came.
they dripped down her cheeks, and she cried silently,
not for the first time that week.

she felt shaky. unstable. unsure. alone.
alone to face the world.

she staggered to her blue locker and gently laid her head on it.
she didn't have the energy to turn the lock.

she cried.

her friends came up to her and said,
I'm sorry. It's okay. You'll find someone else.

but he was all that I ever wanted, she thought.
the words of reassurance made her cry harder
because she knew,
it was not okay.

she told herself,
be strong.

even after the incident,
the boy told the girl he still liked her although he liked someone else also.
the girl still loved him.

she even thought about asking him out.
she hugged him occasionally,
out of courage,
but regretted it deeply later.

for she knew that her affections wouldn't get returned.
but she still tried.

she was depressed.

she screenshotted posts about depression, love, loss, and relationships.
she still texted the boy- they were still dating then-
but she had to make a hard choice.

i broke up with him on March twelfth.
it was the hardest decision.
i felt cold and lonely afterwards.
alone.

completely,
alone.

but that's not the end.
the boy liked my friend-
the friend that was perfect-
and i felt worthless.
i felt not good enough.
i felt more depressed then ever,
crying myself to sleep every night.

i thought about taking my life.

you see,
all the poems I write
are about me,
my experiences,
my memories,
my feelings.
please respect them,
because those were real emotions.
This is the only time I've written a poem using Centered words. Or written a sidenote, for that matter.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
it only took the gherkin to take modern into modern via pickle, but the cabbage pickled dome of the albert hall opera was lost to foe foe foo dub step pluck the plucker of twang of drop d uncool; ah wait, gherkin acne pimples roughage missing on the cabbage suckled, with the flush into oyster moisture past the sexed up morbid cupping of the five fingers telling pistons from pistons? i said as much about my ******* as i did about her mouth, just now, and i wash it off and wash it down shaking hands rather than kissing my children goodnight excusing the **** talking sweet chock choke goodnights; well, it's hard to be credited with womanising when only "polygamy" with prostitutes suffices; but i'll just tell you... swan lake was too loud thanks to the ballerinas' stomps... hated ballet... god curse i will be cursed with sisyphus' labours... i rather roll that stone than hear ballerinas dance once more!*

let the male cat roam and lay rampage to the night, the she-cat sleeps in, then on the third call for ginger: quarus! quarus! nothing... quarus! it begins to rain... shamanism without the safety-net of psychiatry for post-colonial nations trying behaviourism without anger, with anger sterilised, and certain french thinking of fascination with death and suicide with suicidal thought censored for no reason other than not worked with... well, that better be wellington thick rubber on the phallus when i ask for my money back guarantee nine months later.
James Gable Jun 2016
“Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, Ease after war,
death after life does greatly please.”
—Edmund Spense

|PART ONE|
CUL DE SAC
Courtesy is informing
The gardener he shall not
Be needed next week
As sometime before then
You will fall suddenly dead


Like a blanket...
Yes, like a blanket
Or a shawl if you’ll have it—
A sheet that whispers a weight
Upon your shoulders that rise and fall
And rise and roll and once more rise
And collapse inevitable as relapse or vice,
We arrived as the sun is
Saying its final goodnights

Life spends some empty
Second inside your lungs
And continues on its way, moving on
Perhaps to resuscitate a
Fading gunshot victim
Or shake the hand of a minute

As time ticks furiously by,
A dog licks its teeth
A few sorry times, tastes a residual piece
Of something tasty he earned
In his attempts to learn fully
To roll over,
He rolls over now and then for fun,
In the disapproving face of the sun

But it’s a different thing to roll
Over at the command of your Master—
He who is looking disapprovingly at the world,
Disapproves of all of it
But through a very small window
He had not seen before
About the size of an envelope
It must have sneaked up on him

Most of all he is bored,
With packets of cigarettes,
Lighting themselves each night in
Spectacular repeats bright and brilliant
Pyrotechnics of white-hot potential,
You must shield your eyes, Master,
Heed the warnings of the doctor when he says
You are doing yourself no favours,
Tempting yourself by leaving them
Laying around in plain sight

And...now and then, just now, and
Just then he finished a whole one,
Packet of twenty, and his reflection,
Unshaven and puffy-faced in the
Deep ocean of the bathroom mirror,
Can’t look at him until morning,
And morning is a long time away

Meanwhile time is
Blackening the dog’s sorry gums,
It painted such dark spots on his Master's lungs                                              
That he now coughs impatiently,
The paint grips like superglue to
The walls and though a full exhale could
Betray their function for one,
Deform their shape for two,
Lungs so rarely tenderly embrace
And now his face goes blue,
And blue with many shades of blue,
And a touch of the colour of the just-rising moon


Nothing comes up...
His diaphragm, taut, it stalls,
Struck, retching,
Everything slows
Everything

slows

— stretches of sounds
And moans echoing
The sinister intent of
Turpentine visions.
Each bloodless
Indecision


You can see him doubled over
By the window, even from here,
And you’d think this bird will
Succeed in catching his worm,
Each slowed in turn, nothing changed,
Bird was swooping long before the slowness came,
Whatever happens, whatever happens...
The dog sleeps whilst his ticking legs kick,
But slower —  

A fly is caught between
The unaffected forefinger and
Opportunist thumb
Of a young girl who is well known,
(She once squeezed a cat
So tight that its insides
Got all twisted and burst),
She would not hurt a fly though
Especially not this one
It’s so lethargic, she thinks,

How she blinks at normal speed—
Immune somehow

Other kids are told to keep away from her
By their respective mothers
Who’ve no respect for others
you’ll see them goose-stepping down
streets in stop-motion synchronicity
These mums communicate by phone
Hogging the lines and spitting malicious
Rumours into the telephone wires,
Such poison is said to excite cables
Causing electrical fires and the
Firemen here have been called out
several times to find the same boy
Of about ten, crying *“Help! Pariah Dog!”

He’s shouting it now, calling the emergency
Services on a credit card phone
And his pennies won’t take
—So slow it’s hard to watch

The bow that fastens the little
Girl’s hair keeps falling down,
She kicks it down the sleepy evening streets,
Rumours cruelly spread of shadows
Calling her to where the street sweepers are known
Not ever to sweep

Everything is slow, as before but
Slightly more so,
The Master’s contractions
In such slow motion rhythm,
You couldn’t recognise patterns or
Repetitions with short-term memory
but they’re rhythms of threes and fours
but also nine over eight and
Four-four straight, the
Tempo is so slow it doesn’t register...
Listen closely for a while though:
Jazz is on the radio!

The dog’s legs still kick as it sleeps
As it dreams of jumping the garden gate,
Even slower now,
And life is longer now,
In ways
Of course we do not notice
But the little girl,
Returning home just before dark
How will this affect her future?
Time’s arrow
The tragedy of its trajectory
Leaves us in a state
That is not worse off,
But there is no help in this!
Positivity does not come
From the things which are simply
Not negative

And the worm
In a slow motion crawl,
Indignant, as the bird’s wings
Cast long finger-like shadows
That are shifting, flickering,
Twitching near crisis point,
Those last hundred-yards of the race
Where lactic-acid-spasms
Makes a mess of the atoms
And slow-twitch fibres made of
Matter once constituting
A percentage of the mass
Of a sabre-toothed tiger,
Cowering in the cold,
Feeling the pull of extinction
Weighted eyelids,
Mischievous hands tugging
On the ears
And polishing the fangs in museums
It was ashamed, the atoms told us this
But refused to declare a name for itself
Or the beast

Slinking and curling like a
Shoe sole that bunches up
The shoehorn is no good,
Not a help, but to borrow
Just one word of that line
And introduce the trumpet,
In its considerations of brass
And blues
It blows lipless fanfares for the
Invertebrate class

The worm, with frantic intent,
In search of his hole in the ground,
Profound effort,
See the slinky worm speeding
Across the lawn at the speed of a gravestone,
The bird getting closer,
In it’s time,
It’s a fizz of radio waves
With a fuzzy static outline,
Popping grains and throbbing like
Power surging through the telephone line,
Where voices can be heard warning of high pressure
With a fatalist sigh, and poor weather,
A voice with a regional accent
Sounding authoritative and wise
Intensity in the eyes somehow I imagine,
How we paint pictures of faces and people,
The voices are so telling at times,
You can hear whiskey-burns in the throat
Saying things of the colour
Of a nose, and sweet childlike lisps
Suggest dungarees and freckles,
And a gap between the front teeth,
Why these? What prejudices
Have slipped out weedily from
An imagination that is surely
Out-valued by its frame
Of gold with wooden panels

*“PARIAH DOG!”.....
Part Nine (1) of The Man Who Longed to be an Oyster
E Nov 2014
Our map seems stained
with the ink of Shakespeare's pen
dripping into our future,
Time plays with the plot
And we all must journey apart,
until we are together.

We wrestle time,
knocking out the days with patience
and mighty yawning.
Between us the fields of grass spread out
wider than fifty days on a calendar.

But at dusk, you are the star of my silver screen,
We unpack our minds like suitcases and
Move into the future together,
While apart.
Vanishing with a click,
Your goodnights soak the wind

In November
Time holds us apart,
Weary, but for the fullness of
December’s side-by-side mornings,
with toast crumbs and coffee breath
and kisses, anyway.

With hands full of promise,
you hold onto me and
we grow deeper and deeper
together despite a dreary
part of November.
for ty
f Sep 2018
i need you to understand that you didn’t make sense when you went from loving me, to hurting me, to wanting me; to be your firsts, to be yours, to forgetting i was ever that.

all in the span of a short-lived friendship. how am i supposed to wrap my mind around anything? around how distant you are now, and how nothing will make you want me?

how am i not supposed to reminisce, when everything that has happened was only a month ago? or two weeks ago, when you told me i was beautiful, and don’t you ever forget that, or when you spent a whole summer in europe texting me?

talking to me about the most mundane things, those are the conversations etched in my memory; those are the conversations i still don’t want to look at, because that is a low point i can’t ever reach.

you spent a whole summer in europe telling me you wish you could see me and saying the nicest things to me. i spent a summer rooted in my spot, waiting for you to see me, waiting to see you beautiful as always, but happy, nonetheless, that i got to talk to this sweet summer boy.

you talked to me like i was your girlfriend; don’t ever tell me that there wasn’t a point where we were almost that, because i thought: this is what good love must feel like, that comes easy and doesn’t destroy you.

then you did.

the easy answer is you’re just as broken as i am, and just as confused. that could also explain the girl who has swiftly replaced me.

but please be mindful of the hole you left in my life, because you were my good mornings, and goodnights, and afternoons when we weren’t too busy, and on the forefront of my mind when we were.

this is a bandaid ripped way too fast, and i still can’t reconcile the person i fell in love with over the summer, and the boy who won’t even look at me; the cold boy who has it in him to do awful things to me. you are not the same person, but even that doesn’t make it easy to fall out of love.

i am in love with someone who doesn’t exist except in my memories and texts. and if sweet, summer you isn't dead, i need you to never love me again because each time you stop i am left with even less. i'm starting to read again, and smile on days on which we don't talk, and getting here wasn’t easy; so i need us both to stop.
RW Dennen Aug 2014
The city buzzing
then the ceaseless cease.

The devoured Sun,
horizon seeks
to **** in last rays
absorbed
always waiting for dawn.

Then stars slowly
are splash-sparkeled
upon our black ceiling.

But now
a city metamorphosis,
spaces seemingly expand
as people dwindle-down
and echoing shoes abound.
And the night phantom stalks
to spread his expanding cape
while male alley cats serenaded
with strident love songs of blue-*****.

And obsessions rise under a werewolf moon,
the crooning of a barooom tune
while the city out-light-winks
its squared-eyed goodnights.

Caucasians and noncaucasions
become night brothers
by sharing similar oblivions...

...and we sink within our deep dreamy sleep
being snatched by
the penumbra
of  unconscious thoughts.

And other awakened languished
thoughts
wane into a city goodnight...
Joseph Childress Sep 2010
Cheers
Here’s to goodnights
Forever

Mademoiselle
Carry my soul
Till marriage
To do or not
Has never been pondered
From I
I wont panic
My heart’ll pace
Smoothly
Like it’s resting
Til the reception

Bachelor part
Of my life
Was a party
Played well

But all
Comes to an end
I gladly toss away
The red cups
Scattered
To gather
Red roses
That will lead
From the floor,
To the bed
With vine
Wrapped around its legs
That spreads
Leaves
Across the headboard
That spells

Bride & Groom
Forever on a Honeymoon
Alex Salazar Mar 2017
Feather bound beauty
Collected inside my dream, a stream of tear drops are falling down your cheeks.
Your eyes like wells,
Your lips like tangerines.
I brought my heart tonight so that we both may have a goodnights sleep.
My intentions are honest && gutted from the purity of my soul.
All I wish now is to hold you Evermore.
Gabriel Adam Jul 2012
When I rain, I pour.
But this year broke me.
Sank its fingertips
into my shoulder blades
and tore me asunder.
Nailed me to the
floors of this apartment
that weeps like a willow.
While you wrapped yourself in goodnights
I screamed into the floorboards.
I licked at your fingers
like a dog.
No matter how deep I dived
I never reached the ocean,
And I cried.
Sweet Jesus, did I cry.
But men aren’t supposed to,
so I begged instead.
At the age of twenty
I discovered shame.
I felt like calling for help,
but my voice cracked
like a frozen lake.
You’d tell me you were going out
with a few friends, and I’d beg you to stay home,
but my guilt tied my tongue down
with fish hooks.
When I rained, only ashes fell.
And no phoenix clawed its way out.
Only my naked back, flayed by the chains of the prison
I forged for myself,
bleeding out poems that I’ll never see
again.
******* out air from music notes
in order to survive.
This year I discovered guilt.
I could never count how many times I said I’m sorry,
but I tattooed it to my chest
so when I made love to you
I wouldn’t have to say it out loud.
I used to burn.
Burn so loud that
when spoke
smoke climbed from my lips,
I lived my life like a car crash
but sang like a music box.
I plucked smiles from strangers
and drank up the voices
of girls
like wine.
I played loud.
And at the age of nineteen I found myself unworthy.
I inhaled smoke instead of speaking it,
and never let the car
leave the driveway.
I cried ink from my fingertips,
and used you as a telescope to search for God.
With you, I discovered far too much.
I still feel that only shackles embrace me,
but I want to shred open my rib cage
and the let the songbird
out of my chest.
Pull the hooks from my tongue
so I can say
I love you.
When I rain, I want to ******* pour.
So the world knows my heart’s beating.
My wounds are canyons,
that I’ll stitch up with poems.
I want you to know me.
I want you to hold your breath
when you press your hand to my chest.
I want to scream so loud these
walls split open
to let the ocean pour forth from their eyes,
so I can swim to the surface and write my name on its face.
Sing the moon into my hands.
And free that fire from my music box,
so I can find my way
home.
Sally A Bayan Dec 2016
...are showers that come in april, unexpected;
sparks and bursts of fireworks that overwhelm
a new year's eve...and revivify a lethargic world,
with sweet music that plays on, and on, and on...
...cup brims with adjectives that speak wonderfully
of the purest of emotions, like an invisible smile
of the heart, or, a smile too shy, but can't be hid
while imagining first times, face to face situations...
...verbs and adverbs give truth to action, and reaction,
like the soft, sweet giggles that start, when hearing
a voice, or a new accent...the pounding of the heart,
when the phone rings, and conversation flows easy
and honest, time doesn't matter anymore...voices
go soft, then loud, yet, still charming and melodic;
the whispered weary sighs sighed when waiting, or
when goodnights, or temporary goodbyes are
uttered....all are vividly felt, and heard...

...these spurts and blasts of joy,
are sources of metaphors...they capture
the essence of moments sublime...giving them
life and color, making them last in one's memory...

...it is a God-given moment, when true feelings
are manifested...recognized....and appreciated...
ink refuses to run dry, when reliving in writing,
incomparable moments of joy....


Sally

Copyright December 31, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE!!!  
LOVE AND PEACE,TO ALL.
Where did that evening go, when I being under your spell danced
real slow with you on the ballroom floor
and you told me more in your hips that I ever knew?

How time flew,
those jewelled minutes flashed and waved me goodbye
and now I remember,try not to forget
how we met
under the clock at Waterloo.I felt like a film star
did you?
and in the Strand at Lyons corner house,
me, tongue tied and as quiet as any mouse you'd ever met
I try to remember,sometimes I forget.

We walked in the park by the palace, until it started to get dark and then quick off the mark in case you were thinking of going
I, pretending to be all knowing said,
'I know of a place where we can dance cheek to cheek'
I was thinking of dancing and looking into your face 'cause your smile was enchanting,my heart beat fast until at last you said,
'that's a good idea'

The place that I knew was quite near,quite dear
but I'd have paid an awful lot more
how could I put a value on you,the dancefloor and me?
we danced on and on and then it was midnight or gone one o-clock
I try to forget but remember that look of surprised shock which narrowed your eyes.
We said our goodnights but not our goodbyes for we were to meet the next time that time flies
and I took you to the taxi rank
where you thanked me
with the most beautiful kiss
and this was just the start.

And still this heart of mine beats fast when I remember the look that you cast as the taxi drove down the cobbled street
I think we'll meet again, and very soon, as soon as I wish again under the wishing well moon.
I try to remember and when I forget
I make a bet with myself that when time is right
I'll remember again and
remember again
all through the night.
brooke Dec 2016
all my photos are in his passenger's seat
these black and whites of him singing
and talking about the wars he has and hasn't
been in, navigating Penrose like he walked
these roads a thousand times before he ever
took a truck--

and he know everybody's name, date of birth
and probably their social, who died and when--
he's been livin' as 14 other people,
never gets no space and I'm no respecter of that
neither cause the way he looks at me used to
scare me and now I know he jus' scared himself.

saw it when he told me about Braun's body
in the brambles, and in the letters he gets from
past lovers full of jealous jargon-- you made me
feel terrible
,  your fault, ending in a hundred
goodnights, she wants the last word and all I want
is for him to tell me what he's thinkin' when he's angry


'cause he is angry, with bitterness sunk down in his bones
and swimmin' 'round in his chest, he lost weight out at the rig
but kept all that melancholy to himself, brings it home and
drops it in a glass before taking it back in


he asks why I'm lookin' and it's just 'cause.
Just 'cause i'm looking at his eyelashes while
he sleeps or the lip of his brow hidin' eyes a lot lighter than you'd think, committing the eagle on his back to memory
with that scripture from Isaiah a ways off in my head,
scrawled on the back of my heart,
written at the crown of his spine,


I used to wonder about the integrity of his skin
if water'd seep through or run off, used to think
he was made of wood with rice paper shutters--
but he's a mountain, a snowcapped alp
you wouldn't know it from a ways off,
when he's just a soldier standing out
in the field, shoulders hunched, chin tucked
breathin' cold air, but Lord he warm, fierce as the
mistakes he runnin' from--

we both beggin' to be right
or good enough, for the sunlight
to make us into somethin' pretty
somethin' new and shined--
but for now i'm takin' pictures shotgun,
hiding my fingers in my pockets
thinking about the way his voice'd
prolly blow in on the curtains on a
summer's day, and he's singing
My love, is somewhere in that mountain....


*my love is somewhere in that mountain
(c) Brooke Otto 2016

And he'd dig himself out with dynamite
«Loving you will be like loving flowers
which will brings joy to my life,
and lots of delight your like a candle I could just sit and watch you all night so just take a seat and make a move cause its time for you and I to spill the truth
even thought my mind & body is always thinking about you……»-from + morning till night
I'm always dreaming of your kiss's & goodnights passionately my soul craves for you even more when I get excited just by expressing myself to you unique ways but mainly most of the time I feel like I'm close to you just about everyday»

I love hearing your voice even though your not from Texas your so sweet
Wow!"
I cant wait to taste your sweet love
And hold your hands while I stare into your eyes while the pouring rain comes down
from day one, or day two I'll always care about you like a scent from a sweet rose and don't ever forget that»

Your someone spacial that I can bond with

Don't you worry you forever got me for ever
All Rights Reserved © 2013
He watches from a distance

Seeing the strain in her eyes, voice, and movements

None notice the subtle changes over time

Except He does
The paleness worsens
The weariness is noticeable

Yet the girl moves on
Continues to do everyday tasks
Smiling like nothing is wrong

He asks Himself
"Why do Others not notice?"
Wonders if they are blind

Remembers hearing the early goodnights
As the girl was tired
Growing more and more frequent

He noticed
Said nothing
Watching, waiting, listening, protecting from afar
He watches her as she comes towards Him
Having been two weeks away
His eyes are startled but He hides it

The girl looks worn out
Looks worse than before
The luster of her hair diminished
The twinkle in the eyes dull
Yet she tries to hide it

He remembers that day today
Why did He not do something?
Why did He just watch her waste away?

Looking upon her still form
Laying on pillows of silk
Mahogany surrounding the lifeless form

A tear slips down His cheek
He whispers

"Go in peace girl"

"You hid it well"

Written by:  Niyahlove All rights rserved
Brianna Ki May 2014
I couldn't stop tomorrow
believe me I gave it a try
turns out all those moments, are what made time go by.

As I took it all in
the voice inside
fell silenced, content, but extremely alive.

I didn't get enough time within those deep blue eyes
engaging me to want the pleasure of calling them mine.

I'd walk all those miles if it meant I were to see you tonight.
It may aid this determined desire just to stand by your side.

In your arms, my heart must have stayed
because in your arms is where I wish to lay.

I still feel the permanence of your kiss on my lips
I beg that I feel that kiss until the next one I get.

If all I feel is real, can I ask you this one time...?
To keep me within your heart, within your mind
Until our goodbyes turn into only goodnights...

— The End —