Magenta: like the dress
I wore on our very first date.
Hem, fluttering behind
The awe on your face, in your eyes,
Found something, I wouldn't now find.
Lavender: like the smell
You said intoxicated you.
Face buried deep in my neck
Eyes close, my hair tangled around,
At your fingers' call and beck.
Periwinkle: like the blue of your eyes
Shining like stars in dark.
Bright guides leading the way
Blinded, I followed till the end,
Now lost, even during the day.
Lilac: a single flower
"Because you're the only one"
Crowd isn't needed anymore.
My search ended on you,
Trying hard to be your one, two, three, four...
Amethyst: my birthstone I said
In between your laughter.
Waving it off as *"all the ********
We can't in stones, or lives, or signs find,
Something as simple as our hands' fit.
Violet: like the sky
At twilight that day.
Laying on our backs,
Reaching out with eyes, what cannot be with hands,
A lone cloud, drifting, with a silver crack.
Purple: like everything
I said and giggled.
My pendant, in all hues
The curtains, the pillows and the sheets,
Your shirt, my nails, the slight bruise.
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
Precise and organized
is the place we live.
A chair, a city, a country, a world, a galaxy,
all have systems of organization.
Running like clockwork,
precise and intricate,
everything in the universe is perfect.
But I don’t understand why.
I think to myself:
Why is the universe not a messy soup?
How is everything so independent physically?
The universe was once chaotic, random, and tumultuous.
But now it is neat and calm.
We live in a tranquil era of the universe
where such a world we inhabit can exist.
This entropy has served us well.
We don’t have to worry.
Everything will be alright.
Yet as I write this war and struggle encompass our earth.
People are dying in the hands of their loved ones.
Screams, tears, shots, explosions.
These frightening realities
come from a beautiful blue marble of a planet.
Life requires just right conditions
to grow and evolve.
Yet life is the sole imperfection in this universe.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 7:05 AM UTC
I remember being friends with a girl who spoke like a fawn and was as thin as a stick. Her face naturally beautiful, her eyes gleaming with happiness. A pageant queen. A cheerleader. But when she told me about protein shakes as fillers for meals I learnt that the happiness was fake. No matter how much she got, who she saw and met, no matter how many "Miss Teen Canada" titled she won, she would be unhappy. She has constant girlfriends come and go, each her own lovely and unique thinspiration; a collage of limbs and bones she aspired to be. Her obsessions took a hold of her for six years, making her sad, delusional, crazy, until the point she hit the 89 pound mark. Until she ended back up in a hospital. I told her I cared. I meant it, too, but I knew the voices in her head were all too loud to hear my truth of her. The truth of a brilliant, talented girl. *Sometimes being called "beautiful" is not always a compliment"*
I know a boy of european descent. Born in Bulgaria, raised in Canada for just a couple of years. His English got really good after sixth grade, and that's when we finally became friends. I guess now you can say we're best friends. To my expected surprise he turned out to be gay. And to my surprise, it seemed like there was something deeper. He recently sold himself, something that can now only be a shell or a casket. His parents didn't know he was 29. Or that he was gay. i thought about all the fun times- all the sassiness, the dumb jokes, the radio job- and it made me think how much of that was for show. A fake smile. A talented, lively comedian. One that hid behind crude jokes that portrayed a reality all too real to him. Someone who has silently suffered for far too long. I wish he didn't. I wish he didn't have to hide. I am always scared that his last word he hears will be a derogatory one.
There was a girl I was very jealous of. She was my best friend, and creativity flowed through her like a waterfall starting at her heart. She was everything I wanted to be- intelligent, beautiful(in the natural stunning way) and thin. She was so thin. She had impeccable music taste, and we bonded over that. Despite the ******** rock we use to hit the **** to, she enjoyed classical music. She liked being alone. And although she was a self proclaimed optimist, she would hide away her guilt and sadness. I knew she was like me. We both took cold showers while we layed on the bath floor, hoping our hearts would freeze. We would walk the streets of downtown Toronto, praying that the night would swallow us whole. We would *** smokes off of older men in hot leather that rode Harley Davidson's that secretly wanted to **** us. And our cigarette smoke would stick to our summer-kissed skin, and id be even more jealous of how she became tanner and I began to look like a pale little ghost. She was lovely but cheated on. A young looking boy with a galaxy of freckles on this universal boy-band face. He ended up being wrong. The galaxy turned dark black, the boy-band tunes into soft, somber cries. Her cries. I remember having to sit back and watch while I rolled a spliff; I thought about it when I was being caressed too. Optimism can make you see brighter days, but it doesn't stop the hurting your heart will face.
There was a boy I knew who use to smoke his lungs away with **** and french kissed death with pills drowning in alcohol. There was a boy I knew who always use to skip class, but came every once in a while to let the teacher know he was alive. The boy grew too fast, or maybe too slow, or both. One part to reliable and the other too aware. He knew all the causes but never the solutions. He would always fight with anger because he never knew love. No one ever loved him. Instead, i picture him going home, parents neglecting him as he, the lost boy, goes up to his room. Closes the door, drops the blinds, cries. "Be a man" the voices say, but he can't tonight. He focusses too hard on the pain (it's finally something he can focus on). And there was this boy, who dug his nails into his palms, drank until he couldn't see; swinging punches and hitting air as his opponent was strung out on the other side of the room. I never knew if lost boy would cut himself to drain out his sadness or if he snorted more lines to forget what was lying in front of him. I wondered show long it would take lost boy to put the gun to his head and call it quits, how long till his name flashed on the news. Lost boy eventually drowned himself in the bottle, finished the pills, ran out of money and now we don't ever hear from him. He's just lost.
-teenage experience
conceptcollection
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
*Shivering bodies
quivering lips. Pants
unzipped and dropped
down low below the hips.
This is it he says. Standing
by the edge of his bed.
Observing me with his
beautiful eyes touching
me between the thighs.
Im on the edge of high she
says and you're my angel
in disguise. While she takes
off her dress his hands
caress her neck her flesh
her legs and every inch. Hands reaching out for her bra
to unclip. How do you feel
he says. Naked , exposed ,
wild as can be and free she
replies. Take me into your story write me down on your pages
let me stain your soul with the
ink of love. Wrap me in your
arms till the day i die she
says while he traces her
curves and reaches her
heart. Promise to never
tame me and keep me wild
as she kisses the back of his
neck. I'll love you for an
eternity and we'll explode
together like the stars up in
the galaxy* ~
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
Poems I write
things I say
stories I make
books I read
quotes I quote
lyrics of songs I hum
is just another combination of 26 letters
of ways to make you fall for me
And I hope
that someday
I'll find
the right words
a flawless sequence
to say such
serene, sensual, splendid
delightful, amazing, and intriguing
things to you
For it will blosson a smile in your face
give you goosebumps
echoes in your mind
makes your heart skip a beat
tingles all over your body
to get you thinking through the twilight
until the sunset kicks in
and think of
every sappy
hopeless romantic movies
it will be like a movie you'll watch over and over
your favorite quote
the song that gets stuck in your head for days
poems that make you go awe
stories that makes you want to know more
books that you can't stay from
and these sweet things I'll say
will only be for you
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
I'll be an empty canvas
as long as you're the paint
adding color to my madness.
I'll be the midnight sky
as long as you're the fireworks
and it's the fourth of July.
I'll be an empty stomach
as long as you're the butterflies.
I'll be the void
If you'll be the cries.
The ketchup to your fries.
Can't you see?
You fill me up so perfectly.
Like you were made for me
like you and I were meant to be.
You are...
**The feet to my socks
The juice to my box
The tic tok to my broken clocks**.
You are...
My reason being.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
I often envisage love
as snowflakes-
Each of us have it different
but it’s really just the same
with its imperfectly etched beauty
only few can comprehend
Its beauty can never be
expressed in words
or even a sliver
of what it’s worth
The snowflakes are piling up
and the shivers are ethereal
we don’t even realize
that it drives us delirious
The snowflakes keep piling up
but it doesn’t end here
it’ll drown us in its avalanche
and leave us gasping for air.
-m.j.a
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC
092216
To every comma, I'll pause;
To every period, I'll stay;
To every question mark, I'll wonder;
And to every exclamation point, I'll get excited.
You welcome me w/ the warmth of Your Words,
So, Hello Poetry!
Is it easy to let go of you?
When I know, You're my life.
When I know, I need Your every Word.
When I know, I learn from You.
Can I truly say Goodbye Poetry?
Imagine a world without words
A world full of miseries & Mysteries
Reading actions, mixed w/ emotions.
Imagine a world without language,
A world that's too hard to understand,
Or maybe I would be a nomad now.
If I stop writing,
It's as if I'm drawing myself to death.
I would face empty pages,
I would sing empty phrases
With my dying lips.
If I stop greeting you "Hello"
Still, I wouldn't be able to say "Goodbye."
I would rest in my grave,
I would put hymns in my wandering soul.
And so there'd be no goodbyes,
Instead, I'll say, "Hello Poetry!"
And see you around!
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
"stop missing him,"
i whisper to myself
as i try to wash
your name
out of my mouth;
bathe my body
from your touch
and cleanse my soul
from your love.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
Guys are like fries,
You know they ain't healthy
But you just can't get enough!
~ K.B.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 7:44 PM UTC