graveyardtremorsWhisper

Sort
13Find yourself among the sea. / (We all know you'd kill to be clean) / You're dissolved memories rotting with purity
19
May 14, 2016
555I think my heart may rip out of my chest. / Today I woke up feeling like I was still asleep. I don't think I washed the dreams off my skin. / I am typing with a bandaged finger, a testament to my carelessness.
9
Jun 24, 2016
Aesop's FablesMy life is a work of art / But it has never been scripted for you. / It doesn’t have to taste sweet on your tongue.
16
Jul 9, 2016
All Skeleton and VeinsYou’re all skeletons and veins / (or something like that) / Just a pile of bones hanging on an empty frame
11
May 24, 2015
A mess.I fell asleep to you after binges of Chinese food. And movies playing too loud, warping my mind to include translucent holographic dreams and 90's cartoons. / I am used to quick moving waters, cutting the banks of the rivers that flow through my bones. I am versed in their tongue but not quite you- stopped and steady after nights of solitude. / How can I sleep with insomnia that tastes like the sweetest dessert that has ever graced my lips, my tongue, my skin. I am too messy to be compartmentalized. I am too messy for you. I am too messy. I am.
9
Jun 8, 2016
A new scorpio seasonRomanticizing fantasy or refusing to see what’s in front of me- / It has always felt the same. / I have never been scared of silence and stillness
12
May 24, 2016
A Poem About The DeceasedI am not scared of the dead. / I am scared of the living. / I am scared of broken bones.
12
Jun 21, 2016
A puddle in the street after it rainsYou have chattering teeth that spill like oil hollographic on wet pavement / Lying between rows, saying that I miss you is not the same as / I am lonely (but don't know how to be alone)
20
Jun 9, 2016
A shipYou have a traveler's soul. / And a mind that wanders just as restlessly / As a ship lost at sea
14
Dec 18, 2015
BackyardIt felt like the cement floor had open me up and enveloped me like a rib cage longing for a heart. I was slightly out of grasp, or just slightly out of touch. I have never heard the night sky sing like this with sadness or the cooing creak of cicadas. The red church sat with judgmental green doors blinking at me as strangers walked the steps inside to see a home I have never known or wanted. I have never needed that sort of love. The medicine I have tasted comes from binges of technicolor cartoons on nights that lasted too long. Time has been running out since it started and I can’t tell if it’s better to count what was or what will be. And the church with its emerald eyes has sat with its gaze cast at my window, as if to say I am picking wrong I am picking wrong. I cannot escape the anvil that straps itself to my chest when I go to bed. Maybe someone is praying for me.
12
Jun 16, 2016
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write