He said she was "she"
He said he loves "she"
He said he adores "she"

She says he was "he"
She says she loves "he"
She says she adores "he"

But why does she says
and he said?
Is she really "she"
and he is really "he?"

She and he were bounded by a red string
She and he were fated with lingering
attachments to a "he" and "she"
really, they were meant to be

Bounded by fate and destiny
That...they can see
a knot of friendship
only "them" can unleash

Bounded by fate and destiny
not by love and intimacy
but by morale and respect,
and friendship so unwrecked

sometimes my dreams make a living
sometimes they barely make out
sometimes it seems that sometimes my dreams
are more than just riddled with doubt

sometimes my dreams dream me
that's when i have to pinch myself
is this all a dream or mostly reality
and at what point do i find that out

sometimes my dreams take a minute
sometimes they go on and on
feels like i've seen it as they all have me in it
sometimes with strangers, sometimes alone

sometimes i dream in slow motion
sometimes i dream i can fly
sometimes it seems that sometimes my dreams
are just a long drawn out dream in the question of why

sometimes i dream in color
though i'm told it's all black and white
and with that being said it's all in my head
as i bid you all a goodnight

They posted pictures of their vacation.
I wondered where they get their money.
They always have smiles of elation.
I wish I knew what they look like when life isn’t funny.

Always posting pictures of their dating status.
Calling their significant others boo and bae.
One day they are in a relationship, the next they are the baddest.
Because their man could not be convinced to stay.

Sometimes they say that they hate their job and work.
They wish that they could earn money from home.
I always thought that to provide always came first.
And work is the portion of those who are grown.

But when they break up, no one ever sees that post.
And we never see the friends who get blocked.
Sometimes people on Facebook be doing the most.
And then wonder why their true friends are shocked.

Because to be a friend or a follower on social media is nothing.
A true friend is one who is with you through thick and thin.
I don’t mean your yo-yo dieting, or your social media husband.
I’m talking about those who held you down from the beginning.

It was a normal day
Thats what it seemed like and from the beginning, not knowing, thats what I would say.
Well not exactly normal, my brothers in jail but thats nothing new
He was probably in there most of my growing up, all the way through.
He's made bad decisions but so haven't you? But no, his are worse, they are bad decisions that brew and come back to haunt you. He's made some enemies and that is undoubtedly true.

Stick crack
Backpack
Back lawn
Night yawn
Stick crack
Lights on
Sound drawn
Back lawn

Mother, child, baby
Friends coming to chat this late? Nope? No way, hm, 10:00? Maybe?

Stick crack
Back door
Window crack
Smash some more

Break in, this, that, taken, childs mother awaken
Bad decision
Painful beating, insane incision

Please don't hurt my mommy
Take anything you want
"I will take anything I want" he taunts

They took advantage of him being in jail and took their money they didnt have in the bank, laying around in a safe
Which is ironic because everything inside it was taken and its existence brought the opposite of what it states, safety.

The next time, yes there was a next time, they watched and scouted like they did before, they took anything and everything that could earn them good cash and more. They took the child of younger than 10's entire savings from chores, about 30$, maybe less, and every valuable and once again they are poor and once again my brothers wife was beaten and on the floor, and who knows but god i hope they dont come back for more

slightly inspired
but not quite enough
to shake out of this dull routine
and grow into my own
but someday soon
i'll fly freely forward

I've never posted anything before but poems but i need to ask. I'm bi sexual. And I'm not supported by my family. Is there anyone out there struggling as much as i am?

Despite the screaming in my head,
The tears in my eyes
"I'm fine..."
Is what I said
"I'll be there in a few minutes..."
Then I put down the phone
And ran into the street
My suicide
"An accident" they'll say
The perfect plan.

The average person lies four times a day,
The most common lie is
"I'm fine"

I nvisible
'
M arred
F alling
I nsecure
N ever good enough
E mpty

When alone
It drifts silently to the dust
When joined
It soars through violent wind gusts

When alone
It is frail, and if pressured, will break
When together
Not one will you easily take

When alone
It is considered extremely light
When connected
They carry an eagle in flight

When alone
A feather is still a unique and beautiful thing
But when united
They transform into a stunning, powerful wing

last night was spent with my five friends;
my five best friends in the whole wide world.
their names are Cabernet,
Pinot,
Merlot,
Bordeaux
and Shiraz.

they are always there when I need them;
they relax me
and soothe me.
they help me through my problems,
dull my pain,
and help me sleep at night.

they will never ignore me,
avoid me,
desert me,
deceive me,
lie to me
or steal from me.

we were all together late last night,
my five friends and I.
when we started the night,
they were full of body
and color.
before I knew it,
four of my five friends
were gone.
the only one left
was Merlot.

it was late
and I was tired.
they’re good at that,
my five friends.
they’re good at
making me feel tired
and sleepy.
they’re good at playing tricks on me too.

“how do you feel?” asked Merlot.

“I feel good,” I replied.

“well,” said Merlot,
“just wait until morning…”

I miss the way you laughed
Your head thrown back
And a hearty bellow
Full of mirth
I miss that

I miss the way you whispered in my ear
The sweet music of your voice
Pulling me into sleep
Wrapped in your arms
I miss that so much

I miss your voice
So intelligent and wordy
I would gather your words in my arms
Like bouquets
I miss that too

I miss the way you walked
So sweetly quiet
Making the smallest carbon footstep
With your size 13 shoes
I miss that

I miss your smile
That started at the edges of your mouth
And ended with a small curve of your lips
I miss the pleasure I felt when I made you grin

I miss your touch
The loving sweep of your hand along the curve of my hip
The way we start off making love
And ended up having sex
I miss that

I miss your smell
The way you smelled of sunshine and wind
After going outside
I would bury my face in your shirt or coat
I miss that so much

Most of all I miss us
The way we loved each other
We were a circle of two
Full of passion and purpose

We thought we were invincible
No one could break our bond
Yet they did
We were wrong.

I miss you.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

you said
you were afraid
to lose me
and then you
faced your fears
and left

He speaks the language of flowers
Quietly toiling in his garden
Digging, raking and smoothing soil,
Gently coaxing nature to match his vision.
He knows the bees, spiders, beetles, worms and earwigs
Regarding them as friends.
He follows seasons, moon and stars
As others do people
Enthralled at the changes they bring.
He listens as the birds sing
Watching with joy as
Fledgling take wing.

I used to write
My secrets in the sand,
Knowing they would never stay
Long enough to be told.

I used to just swim,
pulled my hair up and never
Really tasted the salt that foamed
After the crash.

I've ran in the sand,
Sure, but never have I
Ever let it smooth my
Skin into what it could be.

Before today, I've never
Let the current take me
Under and feel what it's like
To always come back to something.

In the beginning we were opposite
Started with a drop is it
I liked the way you moved and
soon felt the groove
You were digging me and I was feeling you
Fluid and smooth
Nothing left to prove
You would be the the death of me
Take away the rest of me
Almost imperceptible
You gouged your way in
Damage irreparable
Away at my layers you're wearin’
Others start to stare and
Empty I remain
You
I could not contain
Left me with no companion
I
Simply
A Grand Canyon.

-Luca Ivaldi

...
     "This isn't who you are."

    "You're not the girl I used to know."

   "I don't know who you've become."

He repeats these lines
So much these days
It annoys me more than
A broken record ever could
Ever should
Ever would
Cause I told him
I warned him thoroughly

     "I'm not nice."

    "You won't like the real me."

   "I'm not worth fighting for."

But he didn't listen
He filled my head with empty
Promises that he meant
He filled my heart with hollow
Vows that he could never fulfill

     "How can a person be so cold?"

    "How can a lady be so cruel?"

   "How can you change so fast?"

He looks hurt and
I hurt a little
But I shut down
Cause that's what I always do

     "I'm nefarious, lover."

    "Had my heart broken a few times."

   "Now it's made of stone."

somewhere in summer, where red cherries sat in a bowl, glistening, and where her skinny lemon bicycle
and her daiquiri ice top sat discarded, aside
          —somewhere in her summer she grew up.
it was in between caressing winds and delicious sunlight,
sparkling through windows, drawing locusts on her face, his face.
     it was somewhere before summer had started, rising;
          it was somewhere after summer had ended, profound sadness.
               it was summer herself, joyous and hopeful and alive and buoyant,
it was in the middle of touches and kisses and sighs that she grew up.
italy, 1984.

you’ll tell me you love me
and then when you leave
i’ll pretend the whole time that i didn’t see it coming.

These people act like I sit on my phone, protesting food like Ghandi, and absorb depression through the silicone.

i should have let them block your number because a bittersweet self-concluding end would have been honey and sweet dreams compared to the vomit and panic attacks that i have started with this saturday morning
try and keep my name out of your mouth because my ears can’t handle the deafening ringing
catch me driving 90 on the highway waiting for my ribs to crack

Fresh parchment and jet-black ink

A desk with an oil lamp

A mirror in a wooden frame

A screeching screen door

A narrow stairway

A squeaky floorboard
on a dank wooden floor

Soot covered cheek

Grey hair pulled into a bun

A homemade frock

A dense black pan

A candle at the dinner table

A heavy white quilt
and beneath soft cotton sheets

A window and outside it a white blossom tree

And within the house

there's me

I’ve never received a flower
Or even a rose
But I’m a guy
So it’s acceptable I suppose
No kisses
Or sweets
No treats
That signifies ones feelings for me
No token of ones love
But I have gotten
Disappointment
Watered with hate
Planted in betrayal
Fertilized with lies
And maintained by fakes
Roses are Red
But my roses are dead
And crumble beneath my feet

You're gone.
I’m shattered.
Perfect little pieces,
of self broken.
Reflecting each side,
the hero that fought,
a poet that was adored,
the helpless romantic,
even the sadist.
All of me was for you.

Sweeping up whats left.
Assemble with glue and tape.
I am not perfect,
but I still love you.

I’m a little addicted
to your hand in mine
my body leaning against yours
and the soft smile you have
while staring into my eyes

I’m a little addicted
to being close to you
the sweet smell of your perfume
and the way you nudge me
when you want attention

I’m a little addicted
to holding you in my arms
your body so close to mine
and tracing words on your skin
“i love you so much”

I’m a little addicted
to you

I lit myself on fire
burned my life to the ground
and overnight it vanished
without making a sound.

i wish i could understand why you did it.
but i don’t think i ever will.
why did you pretend to care for so long?
it was evident you didn’t, and still don’t.

i wish i could understand why i did it.
but i don’t think i ever will.
why did i let myself believe you for so long?
and; why does a a little part of me still believe

The first time
you said you loved
me, it was as if
I had been pulled aboard
a life raft after being
lost at sea. But
I see now that this
raft is littered with
holes and
we are sinking, but
you are convinced
that your love is a
teacup to scoop out
the water pooling around
my ankles and you will save
us, but the teacup has a crack
down one side and
do you see where I
am going with this?
A tablespoon of water
will never put out
a forest fire; I am burning
through acres.

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.

I had a crush
on a girl
who had no idea
I liked her.
I kept it secret for as long as I
could.
When she was around
my heart went to flutter.
My eyes stared
at her beautiful face.
I thought if I
could just
hold her hand
then I'd be golden.
If only her lips would
kiss my lips,
then I'd be alright.
I never told her though.
Betty
walked out of my life
without knowing
the love
I felt for her.

feverish in desert-dry tides

the mountain hungers in crescendo
for the sky that crucifies her;
her staccato tops of green
and earthly graves
are titanic gods in all-
seeing tremolo;
these congeries of grandeur
do her not rise but sink the
valley of mawkish men
trembling poignant and bare
sprouting liturgies from their
beaks, bespeaking the apex
pregnant in exploits

where the sun resurrects daily.

My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.

you don't even know how
much it pains me that you
can't see any beauty in the world
even though you have me,
your girl to shelter and mold.
you're always making excuses
and promises you can't keep
while expecting me to be true;
i know you don't love me.
at one moment there was the
faintest glimpse of love in your eyes
which faded to a glimmering
lightning bolt of lust.
the way you used to feel
is dead like my spirit and i'm
so close to putting you back on
the shelf from which i found you.
you do nothing but waste my time
and soak my face with tears.
my wedding dress is tattered,
daddy, you left me cold and blue.
if you no longer want me, my god,
i'm begging you just say it so
i can mourn your poor existence
and find my smile once again.