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bbbel
Maybe
had i known this misery would cause me in deep pain i wouldn’t have loved anyone for anyone wouldn’t have loved me the way i would
0
Jun 5, 2022
Jun 5, 2022 at 10:00 AM UTC
Misery of love
You we're my sunshine But then I remembered that the sun doesn't just shine for one person.
0
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 3:52 PM UTC
Sun
i. I intentionally failed to wish you a happy birthday this year, though I know significant dates, hours, moments, people, by heart. I still search for you in boys I mistake for bandages, the ones with eyes almost the same shade of your hazels, lips resounding your laughter, resembling a wisp of your smile, But they aren't you. ii. Sometimes I pretend you're dead, because it's less painful to stop reaching out into voids. iii. My mom still blames you for everything that preceded that year. Though you probably had no idea what happened when we stopped talking altogether. Can you believe it's almost been three years? iv. My dad wonders who was my 'one that got away' Though, I'm pretty sure he knows it's you. v. Remember how I mentioned Sylvia Plath? How most everything she wrote brimmed with melancholy? How I loved every single word? Especially that piece where she talked about expectations and disappointments. You'll never know that up to this day I still think people are selfish enough to always, eventually turn into the latter. Even you. vi. It's sad I never got the chance to tell you about Ted. How she loved him so much, she just had to figuratively dive headfirst into the flames-- burning herself, what was left of her-- after she found out he never really loved her the same way she loved him in the first place. vii. *truth is, some of us never learn to accept the love we think we deserve.* viii. I don't know if you still read my poems or if you still think about me, about us, sometimes. Every time you fall asleep past eleven, a part of me hopes you do. because I always remember you-- in birthday candles, red ribbons, off-tune voice records, golden arches, concrete sidewalks, pedestrian lanes, the last flickers of city lights softly fading out of the blue. I remember you in everything, in everywhere, in everyone. It's useless, no matter how much I try to forget. No matter how much I just want to forget. I want to forget. But, how could I? When forgetting means forsaking the very memory of you.
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Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 6:27 AM UTC
i'm sorry. i thought i was done writing about you
i. I intentionally failed to wish you a happy birthday this year, though I know significant dates, hours, moments, people, by heart. I still search for you in boys I mistake for bandages, the ones with eyes almost the same shade of your hazels, lips resounding your laughter, resembling a wisp of your smile, But they aren't you. ii. Sometimes I pretend you're dead, because it's less painful to stop reaching out into voids. iii. My mom still blames you for everything that preceded that year. Though you probably had no idea what happened when we stopped talking altogether. Can you believe it's almost been three years? iv. My dad wonders who was my 'one that got away' Though, I'm pretty sure he knows it's you. v. Remember how I mentioned Sylvia Plath? How most everything she wrote brimmed with melancholy? How I loved every single word? Especially that piece where she talked about expectations and disappointments. You'll never know that up to this day I still think people are selfish enough to always, eventually turn into the latter. Even you. vi. It's sad I never got the chance to tell you about Ted. How she loved him so much, she just had to figuratively dive headfirst into the flames-- burning herself, what was left of her-- after she found out he never really loved her the same way she loved him in the first place. vii. *truth is, some of us never learn to accept the love we think we deserve.* viii. I don't know if you still read my poems or if you still think about me, about us, sometimes. Every time you fall asleep past eleven, a part of me hopes you do. because I always remember you-- in birthday candles, red ribbons, off-tune voice records, golden arches, concrete sidewalks, pedestrian lanes, the last flickers of city lights softly fading out of the blue. I remember you in everything, in everywhere, in everyone. It's useless, no matter how much I try to forget. No matter how much I just want to forget. I want to forget. But, how could I? When forgetting means forsaking the very memory of you.
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78
"I'm an open book" She says Written in code.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 2:38 AM UTC
Ask me "anything".
i've run out of poetry, and now all i'm left with is gray. gray surroundings, gray people. i'm lost in a world that's lost in itself. i can't find the words to even say what i'm feeling, because all i see is confusion staring right back at me. i'm in a room full of mirrors, my own reflection not appearing because i've lost myself in the depths of my thoughts. someone, please find me, someone, anyone, i'm gasping for air that's not even there. no one understands, yet you're all here to listen. there's only one problem. i can't find the words- i've run out of poetry.
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May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
gray
tore myself in two put on a show for you the taste of your lips i hunger for one more kiss a table for two only one thing left to do, you. we're just a bunch of nobodies partnership of two wannabes just a great hyperbole pathetic in actuality we’re going no where we’re bound to tear i love the recklessness of it all and fall when you call me your baby doll id gladly throw myself off a cliff for you perhaps its time to bid my adieus but wheres the fun in saying my goodbyes when i could stay, and let you multiply my butterflies take from me until i can no longer give until i forget how to live forget how to live independently but i need not worry, you promised me an eternity and so i trust you with my everything and you will forever be my king of this soul, of this body you’re my new hobby and perhaps it is unhealthy, but you’re the only one who loves me correctly and i could care less so ill stress, obsess, caress until there is nothing left of us just a ceramic jar of ash and dust and our fates and fingers are intertwined and you’re confined, all and only mine.
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Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
All and Only Mine
do you ever re-read my words? do you ever find yourself flipping through old pages, clicking through old poems just to get a taste of my soul? i see you sitting there, deep in thought. are you craving my poetry? i'm sure you're wishing you could visit me in the galaxies i made for you, take a swim in the cerulean waters floating through space. tell me-- do you still dream in black and white? or have my words sparked a palette within you, a painting you'd never seen? i gave you access to a world once shrouded in petty ideas of logic, instead of canyons full of literary masterpieces. i think you do more than "re-read my words." i think you become them.
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Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 3:32 AM UTC
my words
You are simply beyond description. For a definition is but a collection of words, and those words are just letters working together to tell a story. But your laugh takes me on an adventure through worlds undiscovered. Your eyes are deep oceans filled with tales of past shipwrecks before you realized that you were the treasure. Your heartbeat is a symphony composed in a melody that only we know.   So while describing you is this fool's errand, I know mere words will never completely capture you. For words are just letters working together to be beautiful, and you are more beautiful than any group of words can ever hope to be.
0
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 3:31 AM UTC
Untitled #14