abbyc2 - Hello Poetry

tell me this is hard for you too tell me you don't want me to go please beg me to stay pull my hand as i leave tell me you won't last a day i promise then i won't walk away

Aug 20, 2017

Aug 20, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC

auburn

here

8

my friend called me and told me about how he finally kissed the girl he likes and it made me think about how lonely i am and how long it's been since ive kissed someone and been held and felt truly happy because of another person and it's like im me!!! i worked so hard to realize how great i am and what i deserve because of that and it's like no one else realizes it you know... it's like hello!!! i am right here waiting to be loved

0

Sep 20, 2015

Sep 20, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC

my friend called me and told me about how he finally kissed the girl he likes and it made me think about how lonely i am and how long it's been since ive kissed someone and been held and felt truly happy because of another person and it's like im me!!! i worked so hard to realize how great i am and what i deserve because of that and it's like no one else realizes it you know... it's like hello!!! i am right here waiting to be loved

2 months ago we were watching the stars and you were holding me, i was so happy i asked the universe "please please please stop expanding in this immense void stop the time stop everything as it is now" 1 month ago i went on a long car ride with some sad memories in my pocket and some happy ones and i was so lost in my own mind i didn't hear you call 2 weeks ago i was laughing so hard my tummy hurt and my friends were dancing drunk and i really thought everything was perfect i guess the universe will never listen now it's 2am and i can't sleep so im eating cold mashed potatoes out of the tiniest box with the tiniest spoon and i am sad with no socks sitting on the floor of my kitchen and i can't help but wonder why time moves so fast

0

Jul 21, 2015

Jul 21, 2015 at 2:57 AM UTC

2 months ago we were watching the stars and you were holding me, i was so happy i asked the universe "please please please stop expanding in this immense void stop the time stop everything as it is now" 1 month ago i went on a long car ride with some sad memories in my pocket and some happy ones and i was so lost in my own mind i didn't hear you call 2 weeks ago i was laughing so hard my tummy hurt and my friends were dancing drunk and i really thought everything was perfect i guess the universe will never listen now it's 2am and i can't sleep so im eating cold mashed potatoes out of the tiniest box with the tiniest spoon and i am sad with no socks sitting on the floor of my kitchen and i can't help but wonder why time moves so fast

5

1. We are critical. We find flaws in everything we see because nobody wants to write about perfection, even though sometimes we wish we could just stay staring into that unblemished surface. 2. We are never satisfied. We live our lives upon mountains of scrunched up bits of refill and ideas we gave up trying to express. 3. We never forget. We write words about eye contact made three months ago that we replay over and over in our minds even though it stopped being relevant. 4. We are fickle. Our emotions flash from one to the other like strobe lighting that disorientates us until we feel as if the world will never be still. 5. We are exposed. We don't know how to keep our feelings to ourselves so we'll write them down for you to find 'accidentally'. 6. We are vulnerable. We wear our hearts on our sleeves and won't lift a muscle to fight back if somebody tries to break it because we thrive from the pain. 7. We will never stop. We will never stop feeling and we will never stop hurting, we will never stop breaking and bleeding and loving even though the cycle is endless and we know what's coming next. We are addicted to agony, but we agonise for the art.

0

7 Reasons Why It's Hard Being a Poet

Dec 19, 2014

Dec 19, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC

devon-webb

1. We are critical. We find flaws in everything we see because nobody wants to write about perfection, even though sometimes we wish we could just stay staring into that unblemished surface. 2. We are never satisfied. We live our lives upon mountains of scrunched up bits of refill and ideas we gave up trying to express. 3. We never forget. We write words about eye contact made three months ago that we replay over and over in our minds even though it stopped being relevant. 4. We are fickle. Our emotions flash from one to the other like strobe lighting that disorientates us until we feel as if the world will never be still. 5. We are exposed. We don't know how to keep our feelings to ourselves so we'll write them down for you to find 'accidentally'. 6. We are vulnerable. We wear our hearts on our sleeves and won't lift a muscle to fight back if somebody tries to break it because we thrive from the pain. 7. We will never stop. We will never stop feeling and we will never stop hurting, we will never stop breaking and bleeding and loving even though the cycle is endless and we know what's coming next. We are addicted to agony, but we agonise for the art.

70

its weird where i see poetry these days. like…theres a better way to say it than that. but im always shocked to see poetry in a bucket of bone colored paint or in a mess around a dumpster or in the dryer lint. i see it in your avoidance and in the jokes i’ve learned to make. i see it in scuffed boots and missing keys on a keyboard. i still see it in celestial beings. i still see it in the face of everyone i talk to. but now i see it everywhere and its almost overwhelming but at the same time i’m glad. because even the ********* things can be okay if you look at them right.

0

Oct 16, 2014

Oct 16, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC

its weird where i see poetry these days. like…theres a better way to say it than that. but im always shocked to see poetry in a bucket of bone colored paint or in a mess around a dumpster or in the dryer lint. i see it in your avoidance and in the jokes i’ve learned to make. i see it in scuffed boots and missing keys on a keyboard. i still see it in celestial beings. i still see it in the face of everyone i talk to. but now i see it everywhere and its almost overwhelming but at the same time i’m glad. because even the ********* things can be okay if you look at them right.

it's so surreal that at 12:19 a few months ago I would have been crying and complaining about how bad I have it and at 12:19 tonight I am probably the happiest I have ever been because I decided I should stop feeling sorry for my self and maybe actually enjoy life and there are tears streaming down my face as I type this but they're the happy kind i am so proud of how far I've gotten and how far im going to go i finally love myself and i am confident and oh my goodness i can't believe i'm where i am everything is so good

0

Sep 21, 2014

Sep 21, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC

it's so surreal that at 12:19 a few months ago I would have been crying and complaining about how bad I have it and at 12:19 tonight I am probably the happiest I have ever been because I decided I should stop feeling sorry for my self and maybe actually enjoy life and there are tears streaming down my face as I type this but they're the happy kind i am so proud of how far I've gotten and how far im going to go i finally love myself and i am confident and oh my goodness i can't believe i'm where i am everything is so good

:)

I miss you so much but you were never mine to miss in the first place why don't you talk to me anymore can't you see it's tearing me apart please come back

0

Sep 7, 2014

Sep 7, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC

I miss you so much but you were never mine to miss in the first place why don't you talk to me anymore can't you see it's tearing me apart please come back

somewhere in between beginning to pick up the pieces and trying to figure out what the hell broke in the first place

0

Sep 5, 2014

Sep 5, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC

somewhere in between beginning to pick up the pieces and trying to figure out what the hell broke in the first place

and here i am again at the intersection of pedestrian language & old wives tales swallowing gum like 7 year memories opening umbrellas inside cause i can't seem get away from all of this rain i ********** with my left hand cause i was told back in highschool that "it feels like someone else is doing it" it gets me wondering about the difference between losing you and finding out that some one else found you or my sleep or lack thereof its starting to tear me apart i keep having this dream where you are in an unfamiliar body of water trying to wash my poetry off of your hands or the one where something happens in my chest every time you sit on someone else's bed i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced but don't have the heart to look for anymore tired of you saying my name like you're trying to bury it i'm tired of wondering if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice & silence the other day i almost started sobbing at work when a woman asked me about our equipment i was explaining how things come apart and almost mentioned your name it made me think of how you used to say things like "what would you do if i showed up on your doorstep one day?" now, i haunt the windows in my house i don't leave for weeks at a time i sit on the porch like the dog you didn't shoot behind the shed the one that refuses to die until you come home again i told somebody once, that you didn't even know what my voicemail sounded like i wonder if they thought it was because you are so important that i never let it ring that many times before picking up or if you dont know what it sounds like because you've never called you can't be the ****** weapon and the search party i'm tired of all the seats to the ferris wheel in my chest being empty tired of your voice being the one i look for in abandoned places that one sound i beg to bounce back down vacant hallways i just seem to stand there in all of that quiet like someone looking for a mistake on an eviction notice so i guess the hardest part isn't letting go it's forgetting you ever had a grip in the first place and since you've been gone i wonder if when you pushed yourself away from me you used your left hand so it felt like someone else did it

0

and here i am again at the intersection of pedestrian language & old wives tales swallowing gum like 7 year memories opening umbrellas inside cause i can't seem get away from all of this rain i ********** with my left hand cause i was told back in highschool that "it feels like someone else is doing it" it gets me wondering about the difference between losing you and finding out that some one else found you or my sleep or lack thereof its starting to tear me apart i keep having this dream where you are in an unfamiliar body of water trying to wash my poetry off of your hands or the one where something happens in my chest every time you sit on someone else's bed i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced but don't have the heart to look for anymore tired of you saying my name like you're trying to bury it i'm tired of wondering if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice & silence the other day i almost started sobbing at work when a woman asked me about our equipment i was explaining how things come apart and almost mentioned your name it made me think of how you used to say things like "what would you do if i showed up on your doorstep one day?" now, i haunt the windows in my house i don't leave for weeks at a time i sit on the porch like the dog you didn't shoot behind the shed the one that refuses to die until you come home again i told somebody once, that you didn't even know what my voicemail sounded like i wonder if they thought it was because you are so important that i never let it ring that many times before picking up or if you dont know what it sounds like because you've never called you can't be the ****** weapon and the search party i'm tired of all the seats to the ferris wheel in my chest being empty tired of your voice being the one i look for in abandoned places that one sound i beg to bounce back down vacant hallways i just seem to stand there in all of that quiet like someone looking for a mistake on an eviction notice so i guess the hardest part isn't letting go it's forgetting you ever had a grip in the first place and since you've been gone i wonder if when you pushed yourself away from me you used your left hand so it felt like someone else did it

Aug 25, 2014

Aug 25, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC

TomLeveille

epithet

93

why are thoughts of no one but you always on my mind at this time of night i can't get you out of my head i etched your name in every journal i've ever owned my hands are aching i'm all out of ink

0

Aug 23, 2014

Aug 23, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC