I was once wild,
But in your arms,
You'd managed to tame me.
And once you'd finished,
You threw me back into the jungle.
Here, it is eat or be eaten-
The sun is bright,
And I fear that I am not the lion.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.
you never know
because
she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses
and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.
she'll create a thousand plots
from your worst nightmares.
she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.
she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,
and she'll make you,
everything you're not.
but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?
but here's the beauty of it:
if you date a writer,
you'll never die.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
There's fairy lights in your hair,
You're smiling,
I'm melting,
It's half past the right time.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
Pretty mornings and September,
A wind that blows across the land,
Takes with it the dying ember,
The fire, memories, an epoch and,
Leaves in wake some withered flowers,
Tousled hair, a transcendence,
Candy stained lips at early hours,
An aftertaste of ambivalence.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 8:42 AM UTC
We were so submerged in each other's minds that we'd forget about the world around us.
We'd burn the days away until every fragment of you knew every fragment of me
and I could locate your freckles, as if they were my own.
Darling, it's only been a month,
and yet we were so young.
But it appears that we've outgrown our callowness,
and can never cross paths in the way that we used to.
We became lukewarm too fast.
You're telling me you don't understand,
but darling, you don't make sense,
You make messes.
We were so disoriented by each other's lips that we'd get drunk off of each other's presence.
We'd dream the days away until every ounce of me felt the need to regain its equilibrium because you'd send me spinning.
Darling, it's only been a month,
and yet we've grown so old.
But it appears that we left our alignment in your sheets,
for we felt too much too fast until we overflowed with tepidness.
You're telling me you don't understand
but I don't make sense,
I make mistakes.
We'd so frequently be in each other's heads that we suffocated whatever we could have been.
We'd forget that fire needs oxygen to thrive until the light in my eyes dimmed to minuscule sparks.
Darling, it's only been a month,
and yet we are so cold.
And it feels like winter all the time in the midst of spring,
For we were a flame that blew itself out.
You get it.
We don't make fire,
We make wind.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
There were times
she felt
like his bad habit
passionately
longed for,
quickly savored,
and then
carelessly crushed
beneath
the weight
of his world
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 11:55 AM UTC
We were amused
At how many times we'd run into each other,
Never dawned we were entwined at the soul.
Because we'd hide in the same crooks
And I'd eventually find you,
Taking cover from the same ominous cold.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
Abusing the backspace key,
And the word sorry,
And denying illicit dreams
Or that I can't fall,
I mean asleep.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 6:28 AM UTC
They wouldn't understand
Because they weren't meant to
You make everyone else, everyone else.
I can't give in, love
Or give up
You contaminate me
Beautifully.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
Before I begin, allow me to explain,
I too loved.. once,
so think of me not as some cynic-
nor as a master in the ways of love-
but rather as a keen observer-
now, that may mean I have nothing to offer you-
no insider knowledge-
no secrets of love-
But I do know how to tell a true love story -
Interested?
Fantastic-
So let’s begin,
True love, if there is such a thing at all,
is like the thread that makes the cloth
you can’t tease it out-
you can’t extract meaning-
without ending up deeper in the web-
and it always remains-
hidden under layers -
In the end, that’s all you can really say about any
True love story-
They don’t generalize-
They don’t analyze-
They arent found-
They just… happen.
and that’s what makes them “true.”
But what is this coveted “love” -
the emotion?-
the act?-
the mentality?-
Love, is a constant state of illusionment-
A collective agreement amongst humans-
that it, whatever it may be, can be treated as an excuse
for recklessness, irrationality, and misplaced strife-
A quid pro quo between two individuals-
to agree that they are doing something-
anything-
other than mindlessly drudging through life-
Now that is not to say that what love creates is pointless-
I said before, I have felt the embrace of love
Love festers between individuals for so long
it has no option-
but to mould the physical to itself-
and alter our personalities-
Characterized by spontaneity-
by indulgence-
by risk-
to love is the most dangerous experience in existence-
the act of being fully vulnerable with another-
while promising not to hurt them the same-
Love is characterized by vulnerability-
and the constant fear of being hurt-
So you want to know how to write a true love story?
be honest-
dwell not on the “romantic” blindfolds that keep us irrationally seeking our partners-
dwell not on the on the memories of a love that blossomed-
reveal the core of love -
A true love story comes from gut instinct-
A true love story, comes from experience.
A true love story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe
So I said I loved once,
allow me to elaborate-
I too have felt the “butterfly stomach”
- where the insides of the lovestruck turn on their host and manifests the emotional significance of meeting “the one”
I too have spent the day daydreaming...
-Lost in the thought of “the one”, seeking brief breaks from reality in my mind between moments of utter normalcy
I too have melted into a puddle of emotion….
-lying next to “the one” as we slowly spill more and more of the secrets that bound us as individuals, joining a spirit much larger than ourselves-
I too have felt... invincible-
-to know that I’ve found something more significant than myself. Something that replaces the fear of the future.. and makes it something to look forward to.
Yes, I too have fallen in love.
and I did just that-
I fell.
..And that is my true love story-
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC