For butterfly wings,
Our kisses were gathered and sewn.
Seeing you, I die.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
Sitting in this room,
S e a r c h I n g for b r o t h e r s in my head,
Not the ones I’ve always had;
those that are united by a common womb.
But the ones who have infected me with a lush sense,
an unspoken quality,
who have a presence so surreal,
always speaking to my soul.
My non-birth brothers,
Criminals of the same shade of blue,
Boys with the pain of a quiet kind,
Paramount people in a pickled world,
Oh my brothers,
we are lines in the sand,
Definite and fading.
You are the ones,
the ones who meant something
To me.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
[Insert friendship here]
Press yes if it meant something.
No, if it didn't.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
Young uncertainty,
My head is on your shoulder.
Darkness consumes us.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
The world is full of two kinds of people:
the ones who will pop back into our lives for forever
&
the ones who won't,
where the goodbyes were unexpected and better
off never being mentioned.
You weren't someone who was ever supposed
to stay,
so I should have felt your goodbye more.
It should have stung,
sweet relief.
Goodbye moon.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
Once I realized I could,
I gave this cause
everything.
For once,
I wanted to be someone's first and foremost option.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
“I've grown to trust you 85% of the time.”
----
“What about the other 15% percent?”
----
“You can’t fix everything;
some things are not fixable.”
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
Across,
In amongst a crossing,
My oxfords met yours.
My trench coat entrenched
Itself into yours.
We grabbed for the same newspaper,
And I found myself peeling
Off my smile
And handing it to
You.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Worry will act as a carcinogen.
Fumes will spread over my body,
hitting those key points: head,
heart, mind ...
stomach.
I'll start to ***** again.
Again,
you'll be long gone.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
I try to not frequent places where you existed.
On the days when there are parallel universes,
When Octobers are permanent,
When every night seems near fatal,
When the emptiness in our silence
mocked the leaves we trailed through,
Sundays are far off and foreign.
And as far as I know,
there is still an
“I”
that dwells with
“You.”
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC