The devil has an angelic grin
As he holds your hand in secret
And whispers sweet little nothings in your ear.
The devil has perfect skin, striking eyes,
And a jaw that could have cut
Your wrists better than you will ever have.
The devil will write you poems
And speak to you in rhymes,
Fleeting little words,
Just to keep you from breaking apart
So he can keep playing
With your already aching heart.
The devil will come
When you are at your lowest.
He will come
with an outsteretched hand
Promising you heaven on earth
But, he will let go of you
right before you reach the top.
So you pull yourself up
like what humans do
in the face of adversity,
And when
you are on your own way to heaven,
Only then shall you meet your angel
Your angel will not have wings
To whisk you off your feet
And bring you to dazzling sights,
But he will have a smile
Brighter
And more beautiful
Than any scenery.
Your angel will not look how you imagined him to be
all chiseled up and perfect like a Greek statue
But you will not be able to look away
From that crooked smile
Nor tear your hands away
From those coarsely cut curls.
Your heart will be full of his love
And you will feel safe
Perhaps
Even feel heaven on earth
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
Disconnected the more we’re connected
Our children are affected and feeling neglected
While our rights to privacy are no longer respected
An idea our ancestors never projected
The transgressions of technological progression
An obsession creating social oppression
A Millennial’s iDol, a prized possession
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
I am the ocean;
concurring ripples
rooted in my scalp,
dark waves cascading down my back
of which no one would see
the beauty within.
I am the earth
underneath your feet.
Haven of not only the living
But also the dead
of which no one would see
the beauty within
I am the painting
to be magnified to see specks of color
but, afar,
merely looks like a straight line
of which no one would see
the beauty within.
I am the sculpture
of a volatile beast
or, at the least,
its ruins
of which no one would see
the beauty within.
I am art
no one would be willing to see
despite of my obvious presence.
I am disturbing, distressing art
who’s crafted and carved from
cold hard truths
than painted
in pretty pink and purple lies.
I am the art
no one would dare appreciate
because that would mean accepting
how imperfect humans are
and imperfection
could never be art.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 8:25 AM UTC
As a child, I often imagined us as a royal family;
Dad as the king,
Mom as the queen,
And Myself as the princess.
Within our humble little castle,
You taught me how to be kind but resilient;
To be graceful but firm;
To respect other people and myself;
To love people,
Especially myself.
You have raised me as best as you could
But, a crisis swept over our kingdom
adolescence,
they called it.
It affected all the children in the land,
Making them even more rambunctious than usual.
They became irritated
and isolated themselves,
all the while their innocence fading.
Of course, it affected your little princess,
And you didn’t know what to do.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I’m telling you not to worry.
This is not a crisis but a part of life.
When I slam my bedroom door shut,
After we’d just fought,
That doesn’t mean I hate you.
My hormones are just not as calm as they used to be.
Be patient.
I’m not mad at you
For telling me to sit up straight
Or mind my manners at dinner
Or be independent.
I know you are just molding me
To become the person you’ve always envisioned;
You just want me to be more like you.
But, mom, dad,
I am my own person.
I have my own set of personalities and traits
A set of which you have inspired,
Not provided.
You have inspired me to become
A strong woman
But, I have to do it my way now.
You can’t shield me from the terrors of the world forever.
You have to let me out of my tower
Because I can slay my own dragons
and unfaithful princes.
I am not your little girl anymore
But I am still your princess
And you still rule my world.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 8:18 AM UTC
The best poems are all about
loss and pain and suffering.
It feels more natural to write a poem
about a long lost memory,
Or a love that never worked.
Poets aren't allowed to be happy.
They’d run out of material to write about.
The words
content and happy
in the same sentence as the word
I'm,
feels like your tongue
never sitting right in your mouth,
like teeth getting in the way
when making out
like an itchy throat,
not going away even after coughing a fit.
The phrases
You are and my boyfriend
can't be a real sentence
like how
unicorns and fairytales
don't exist.
They just feel like
two jigsaw pieces
from different parts of the puzzle
forced to sit beside each other.
The word love
just doesn’t resonate
with the beat of my heart.
Maybe because
my heart stopped beating
a long time ago
and my brain had to carry the workload
so I think twice as much as I should
synonyms?
I overthink.
I may be the only poet
who doesn’t want to be happy;
a ********* clinging to heartbreak,
and loss and pain and suffering.
because it’s easier to let heartbreak
wrap myself in its familiar arms
than to experience an adventure
with happiness wrapped in mine.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 6:17 AM UTC
Loved left marks on the walls
And took apart floor boards.
The cold air crept in
'cause Loved left the door open
when they took off.
So, the house got cold;
walls became frosted.
What’s left of the floors
became slippery that
one wrong move could
cause severe injury
So I gave up the mortgage
and sought refuge in other shelters;
Some houses felt too big
That I couldn’t possibly fill it up
with my simple wants and needs.
Some houses felt too small,
I’m afraid that my complexities
on top of complexities
Would topple over each other and shatter.
Some houses were too complicated;
Floor plan with secret passages
between secret passages,
That even I’m too plain to figure out.
Then love arrived
And fixed up the walls.
put in fresh cut wood as floor boards,
installed new light fixtures;
Made the house feel like a home again
Made me feel home again
And thus, I am safe.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
Imagine
Perfectly normal house
Perfectly normal girl
Perfectly healthy body
Chaotic mind.
Her thoughts
As loud as waves
Clashing on rocks.
Yet a voice
So quiet
Like a breeze
Through palm trees.
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
In Greek mythology, the god of love, Cupid,
is the counterpart of Thanatos, the god of death.
You’re probably thinking, that’s an odd pair.
The Greeks were all about odd pairs.
Are you really surprised?
Because love is contentment and happiness.
Whereas death,
Well, no one really wants to talk about that.
But these obviously contradictory themes
Are more similar than we think.
One, At some point we’re gonna experience either.
Two, you don’t want to experience either on your own.
No one wants to die alone
Nor have unrequited love.
And three, the sensations of both are eerily similar.
Now I know why you take my breath away
And why my heart palpitates
whenever I see you;
The same sensations that someone gets
When they’re having a cardiac arrest.
Falling in love is like being on the precipice of death
Maybe that’s why they call it “falling” in love
Because when you fall from something,
You will splat on the ground,
With your insides out there for someone to see
And you’re wondering
if they like what they see.
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 5:44 AM UTC
Flower petals and confetti litter the ground.
Balloons held up by your friends.
Curious passersby gathering around.
You,being pushed towards the center of attention.
You, alone, in the middle of it all.
His friends wearing letters on their shirts,
Shuffling to spell out-
“will you marry me?”
It flashes on the jumbotron
In lieu of the kiss cam.
Fans hooting everywhere
“Say yes! Say yes!”, they scream
As he kneels on that popcorn and soda littered floor
And repeats-
“will you marry me?”
He says as his now sister-in-law gives you her bouquet.
His and everyone else’s eyes are on you.
Even though it’s his brother’s wedding’s reception,
he still managed to capture all the attention
Towards the two of you.
His eyes are brimming with tears
and glistening like the ring he’s holding.
He loves you. So much.
You love him,too. You know you do.
But how do you say I love you and no at the same time.
“I love you but, no.”
That doesn’t seem right.
So you stay on the middle ground and say
“I’ll have to think about it.”
The hooting turns to whispers
The tears on your boyfriend’s eyes come falling down
as he tucks the ring back in his pockets.
Your feet cemented to the ground
As people look at you as if you’re the strangest thing
to have ever existed.
And you may as well be.
No one says no to proposals.
It’s considered rude to reject such a thoughtful gesture.
But to whom is it being thoughtful of
Because it sure as hell isn’t of you
Since you’re the one who’s being viewed as a villain
But you have to remember that you’re not.
You are not a villain for saying no.
You are not the bad guy for not being ready.
Your decision is valid
And if he leaves you
Or makes a villain out of you
for being honest,
Then you were right to reject that ring.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 10:11 AM UTC
This is the story of how I never told you I loved you.
When we first met, I could only stare at you.
In my eyes, you were a tall, graceful queen
And I felt unworthy of your presence
But when you spoke, your words,
Sweet like honey, trickled out.
Your small voice made you seem less of a nobility
And more of a normal girl
But you still seized all of my attention.
I couldn’t articulate how much I love you.
I couldn’t put my feelings into sentences
Or phrases
Or words.
I couldn’t seem to find the right combination of letters
To encapsulate how important you are to me.
I told too many jokes
But I never told you how I felt.
You always listened and laughed at them
But you never felt
How I intended to make you feel.
I wanted to exude love
But, instead, I emanated comedy.
I wanted to rule beside you
But I was just your jester;
Hiding behind my wit
Because that way, at least,
I could see your smile.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 6:19 AM UTC