I never asked to be held,
But it never stopped
The lines of my shadow
From caressing your silhouette.
-K. Moran
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 11:10 PM UTC
I can hold it together sober,
But the alcohol brings out the best and the worst in me
The hopeless poet, the jealous *****
The miserable, lost child.
**** the taste of red wine on my lips,
As they run down your body
and **** the burn in my throat.
**** the way the mirror image shifts left to right.
Holding on to the wall with one arm
And holding up my life with all my might.
**** ***** and boys, liquor and love.
**** it all.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
There is nothing I can compare to the wait.
The moment before flesh hits wall
And knuckles hard as stone bleed against brick.
We see red through the tears
that run down the distorted lines of our faces,
cooling the burning skin of our cheeks,
And seasoning our lips with salty streams.
We hide our sadness behind our rage.
Our bruised hearts behind bandaged knuckles,
The way the air smells fresh with perfumed lies and a hint of apologies.
The smell that reminds me of the color red.
And we wait for that moment,
That the line becomes blurred.
We loose our sense somewhere between adrenaline and addiction
To the pain they cause and the pain we live for.
And we wait.
We wait for a sign, a cure, an apology, an explanation, a reason.
Nothing compares to the static silence,
No words to describe the reckless sadness,
I close my eyes and the wait looks red.
-K. Moran
@words.and.weapons
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC
Tell me about your passion,
I want to see the fires ignite in your eyes,
As you get lost in your own words.
I want it to be me standing there looking into the eyes of a man in love.
Not with me, but with his life.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 8:42 PM UTC
I wish I could know myself, the way you do...
Kiss my lips and listen to every story with wide eyed wonder.
I want to hold me close and watch my insecurities fade.
I want to know me, like you do...
So maybe, one day...
I can love myself too.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
In his arms tonight,
The feelings are a smear of washed out watercolors,
Trickled along torn paper.
A beautiful mess.
I guess you could say-- our relationship is a lot like modern art,
Two people trying to find meaning where there is none.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
It's funny, how just now I recognized myself in a poem someone else wrote. Like my words came pouring out of their pen and marked the paper-- just for me. Just so I can nod in agreement and for once in God-knows-how-long remember who I actually am.
It tears me up, everytime my eyes reread the same **** lines. Why does this stranger know me better than I know myself?
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
Sometimes I hate that I am married to the idea that love finds everyone...
Sometimes I am married to the hate that gives me those ideas.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Match my passion,
Love just as hard as I have loved,
Be my fire as I set my own heart ablaze.
I don't want love calm and steady like water,
The love that drowns and tames my flames.
I want uncontrolled chaos,
Love so hot that our hearts tint the world red,
I want a wild fire.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
I look at the stars,
And I want to leave this place.
I want to see the sky,
For the first time,
Standing in someone else's shoes.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC