We dreaded this day
When this clock finally struck
Words can't express this
Yet, I am happy
For all that we have became
A friend, a lover
No need for anger
We showed love and compassion
This was true romance
Take care of yourself
I'll think about you everyday
The best memory
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 6:48 AM UTC
The flower blows in the air.
It blossoms, silent, pure.
Mountains erupting, ready to sin.
The calm before the storm is the only cure.
The valley becomes one,
While the sky eats the sun.
Nothing will stop its path.
Only the garden can stop it's wrath.
Only the wind can make this last.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
Empty truths is all I am.
But I'm trying to be all I can.
Without giving any effort.
I just lie so I can feel the comfort.
Deep down it digs deep into my skin.
My demons come out and win.
I'm just a helpless romantic.
Lingering in the past with all its frantic.
I just get lost in my head like a dead sea.
When I should blossom like a tree.
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 11:49 PM UTC
I'm a different person everyday.
Drinking on each day.
Sipping on gin to La Dispute.
Crying to Grizzly Bear like a **********
Walking alone on this earth.
Hating on life since birth.
Who have I become?
Trying to be something, not a slum.
I want to live life.
But I am a ruin with all this strife.
I just want to scream at the world.
All I want to do is make my voice be heard.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
Darkness covers your soul.
Sinking, twirling in a bowl.
Changing you into this demon.
Your mind stuck in thought, you screamin.
Suffocating in your hopes.
Choking you, like your neck in ropes.
You rise from the ashes.
Because your heart is filled with passion.
Nothing can ever stop what you believe.
Because you know exactly what you need to achieve.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 12:57 AM UTC
Just stay true to your roots.
Branches grow, deceiving you.
They burn,
They shed,
They fall,
But you grow.
Stronger each year.
Maneuvering obstacles.
Conquering what you believe in.
Yourself.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
The coffee had settled to a temperature few could drink with any pleasure. The cursor impatiently blinked against the empty word document as he sat defeated by the previous one hundred attempts to write a single sentence. He could not be a writer, he thought, writers do not spend hours in front of blank screens, staring blankly and drawing blanks. They are full of original stories which overflow from the gray matter of their brains, spilling out from the tips of their fingers as they beat atop plastic keys like Mozart realizing symphonies as he glide across the ivory teeth of a fortepiano. He was right; he was no writer, not yet. In this instance of doubt like Schrödinger’s cat, both men, the writer and the not-writer inhabited the same chair, the same space in time waiting to be woke by a single decision. If he decided he was not a writer than all potential realities collapse into one and the writer dies in that chair. I'm no Edward Lorenz and I don't know much about butterfly effects but what if this is one of those microscopic events that changes the initial conditions and forever alters the data set? What if a masterpiece is lost on a whim? I so badly want to communicate all of this to him but I can't, because I am remembering a distant memory of the moment I lost the man I was suppose to be.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
Who needs a god when all I want to do is feel gritty.
I don't need someone who is giving me false warmth.
They make us feel defrauded and feel pity.
Conquer each day with my own dedication, I shall henceforth.
This world is addicted to being scared.
I'll show you all, that you don't need to feel despaired.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
Third time writing you a letter,
trying to create a poem that is endless like the sand on the beach
or riding down the streets.
Hate is always hard to forget
and happiness is a moment to reminisce.
Why can't time move forward,
so I can be with you to be over it.
Oh, the things I would do to you.
********** you to your skin at the right que.
I miss how the sun shines on your hair.
Like a clear window with a glare.
I always want to write you love songs.
But I just end up writing you poems.
It's okay baby you won't hear my sorrows.
I'll hide them with these flowers.
I don't want our love to disappear.
Because I know when I see you it will reappear.
It's so clear..
But fear is always near..
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
"So what happens after this?"
He asked the most profound question
to the most decisive girl
living in this world, in his world.
"I don't know.. What do you think?"
And she gave him the most accurate answer
she could ever think of -- a question.
"Neither do I."
And he answered her satisfyingly enough.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC