Expect me to be standing at the front door of your heart, knocking to see if any feelings are there. Hoping to find warmth in the flame glowing within your eyes. I'll stand in the cold, the rain, and the snow hoping for you to glance my way. Here is my resolve. To live and die with you by my side. Please grant me this one last wish, be forever mine with this one last kiss.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
The placenent of fatigue is an adorable yet human error of content.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC
Sometimes you have to walk through fire to prevent from getting burnt.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 4:40 AM UTC
I was written off before I was born. My mother didn't want me. I was a mistake. An accident like black coffee spilled on suit. I became a stain that couldn't be wash. I felt the neglect in the womb. I was all alone. But I born and raised well by the woman who I thought considered me accidental. She wasn't ashamed of me. She was frighten that she couldn't protect me. And here I am dead in the streets by the police who couldn't protect me either.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 4:13 AM UTC
I started chasing my dreams. I woke up and you wasn't there.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 3:50 AM UTC
Words and sounds are connected to the images seen
The eyes tell tales before tongue hisses
The December child walks bare to the unknown roads foreseen
The wit of the mind does not mind the matter
And what does, does not matter
Perception limns a breakage at intervals
Everything is blurred after a dream
Even family.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
Part of survival is dying. To survive something, you have to die of circumstances. But you do live through it all. The new world order zap the old testament. I beseech for the praying knees and hands. It is the same as the magic of a voodoo hand.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
He always hated me, since the beginning. Birthing red spills into a volcano was his tears when he wept. Mom forgot about Tommy. I was no more than his **** inside his diapers. I was a throwaway child. A rugrat. Unborn again into the womb. I had no spare feeling of bitterness when the salt sat on my dry tongue. I was fed of love. Brotherly love. I have grown to realize that my relationship was not composed of such gentle intimacy. The love was dangling on the edge and my grip grew less and less, with my fingers producing heavy perspiration. I let go and let a smile edge my cheeks.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC