Really, it takes moxie to be a fool.
To act obnoxious on purpose,
it honestly seems to be a trend.
People, c'mon, this can all be avoided.
After all, you do have brains in your skulls.
They're good for something, I promise!
Someday you'll understand.
Or perhaps you'll make a major mistake
and (ironically) learn from it.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
Words, properly used, can be the most potent form of flirtation.
Forget the subtle body language;
the light touches, subtle smirks and understated winks.
They're almost nothing compared to spoken dialect.
The human voice, by nature, is beautiful.
Like music, it lilts on one's tongue and reaches a variance of pitch.
To put that to work in cooperation with the mind of one in love..
It's amazing.
Both spoken and written, words achieve something in the seduction game.
That something is the ensnaring of the recipient in a tangled web,
binding that individual, and enticing them to reciprocate such language.
Like a moth to a flame, flirtatious words dazzle one into an addiction to the other person.
Whether the addict is conscious of their enslavement, it is extremely effective.
Isn't it?
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
Here's to the crazy ones,
who talk to the thoughts they entertain
and have a heckuva time, all the time.
Here's to the broken ones,
who hide scars behind plastered-on grins
and are reluctant to ask for help.
Here's to the lovers,
who crave affection from another
and are endlessly mending a shattered heart.
Here's to the artistic ones,
who see beauty in everything
but are considered quirky, as a result.
Here's to you,
for being unique and special
but never changing for anything.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
I don't understand.
You finally found a girl to pursue who isn't me.
I should be overjoyed.
Then why can I not shake the taste of blood in my mouth?
I'm happy for you.
But perhaps, I'm not happy for me.
I want you to be happy.
But will she bring you the kind of happiness you crave?
I doubt it.
Youthful love is about as foolish as it comes.
You've made this mistake before.
Many, many times.
I'm losing faith in you.
You're foolish for thinking she could be strong enough,
and willing, to bear your multitude of crosses.
But hey, I'm just a friend.
What do I know?
Evidently, I know not enough to please you.
I know in time, give it a month, maybe
and you'll be back at square one.
Alone, and in pain.
I'll be there.
Waiting to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and build you up.
Again.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
Life is beginning to change for me.
I can feel it in the innermost depths of my heart.
Soon, I will become an adult.
My time spent under the guidance of my parents grows shorter still.
I must make a huge decision, and do so quickly.
Everyone believes in me.
They're cheering me on as I stand on the edge of this precipice.
I'm frightened, but curious to find what this world has in store for me.
I'm ready, but not ready, to make the jump into this new world.
Is this what adulthood is like?
Or am I merely being timid?
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
It's early, and I shouldn't be awake.
But here I am.
Thinking.
I long for my thoughts to stop swirling.
I don't want to see the one who haunts my deepest ponderings.
But at the same time, I do.
They're beautiful.
Everything about them intrigues me.
I would explore the depths of their heart
if only there was time.
Oh, why must they do this to me?
Deprive me of blissful sleep.
Invade my mind so constantly.
Make me restless until the dawn.
I may be insane for saying so,
but I don't want this insomnia to end.
It's a wonderful side effect
of the drug known as love.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
I'm not closed off because I don't like people.
I'm not reserved because I've been hurt.
I simply am the way I am
because I don't want to be wounded.
In a world full of liars, cheats and snakes,
I am a human of great depth and sensitivity.
Should I dare expose my soul's deepest workings
I know someone will abuse it, ruin it.
So don't turn your nose up at my behavior.
I'm not looking to be hurt because of who I am.
I'm guarded because I am deep, not because I'm rude.
Please, don't look down on my silence.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
Some might say that love is stupid, a farce-
"such feelings are untrue, and none too real."
However, when a connection does spark,
how great is the emotion one does feel!
To love and be loved is kindling a flame,
one which burns bright, ever-present and true-
a pure fire smoldering, one and the same-
in the twin hearts of your lover and you.
Love brings vast and immeasurable joy.
It causes the heart to flutter, to soar,
like as when a child receives a new toy.
Such is that feeling which we all yearn for.
Don't despair, don't believe true love is fake.
It exists; it's a chance we all should take.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
Come view her coffin, covered in a flower-like moss.
Come see her corpse, like ice, cold and pale.
Feel free to weep tears when words just fail.
A handful of dirt into her grave; go on, give it a toss.
She hopes you will not grieve your loss.
She prays you will not sit at home and wail,
weeping and mourning, letting grief assail
and fling you into torrents of despair as you bear this cross.
For her soul finds its rest, among the deceased.
She welcomed death quite calmly.
Her graying face was not fearful in the least.
When her soul took wing, 'twas a beauty to see.
In Heaven, she hopes that you are a little pleased
knowing her death was one of peace, of tranquility.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
Mortality is like a weight, suspended on a string.
It remains balanced and constant
until Fate takes that string between sharp iron blades
and permits it to come crashing violently down.
Our lives teeter on the edge of metaphoric clock hands.
With one motion, they will fall and we will end.
Life is fragile, like the most delicate of porcelain dolls.
A sight to behold, until it is broken and tossed out.
Even as we live, we gradually fade away.
With each passing second, a new nail is driven into our coffins,
and another shovel's scrape prepares our graves.
Ready or not, it will come, and we will have to face it.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC