mary-10 - Hello Poetry

I don't understand how love didn't die away through high school with you. We slept together just sleeping though, nothing else almost all summer. How you look at me and tell me that you love me lights me up inside. But we are just friends and friends shouldn't fall in love so i'll stay quiet.

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Aug 22, 2014

Aug 22, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC

A few haikus to sum up July and August

I don't understand how love didn't die away through high school with you. We slept together just sleeping though, nothing else almost all summer. How you look at me and tell me that you love me lights me up inside. But we are just friends and friends shouldn't fall in love so i'll stay quiet.

12

Sometimes I look at myself, And pick apart all the flaws, That come to my mind. I find that wallowing, In my own self pity, Is more of a habit, Than a conscious decision. This makes me wonder, though, Why is it that my favorite thing, In the world, Is when you say my name.

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Jun 25, 2014

Jun 25, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC

Narcissism

Sometimes I look at myself, And pick apart all the flaws, That come to my mind. I find that wallowing, In my own self pity, Is more of a habit, Than a conscious decision. This makes me wonder, though, Why is it that my favorite thing, In the world, Is when you say my name.

11

Oh, you love it, When I call you sugar, But just remember, It'll taste just as sweet, When I kiss you goodbye.

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Jun 25, 2014

Jun 25, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC

Splenda

Oh, you love it, When I call you sugar, But just remember, It'll taste just as sweet, When I kiss you goodbye.

5

Why is it That every time A boy shows me kindness I can't stop my mind from going a million miles a second. He will say A simple thought And my heart swells An inch bigger With each syllable Said without any Actual emotion. I'm starting to think That my ribs are breaking, That my sternum Will burst The next time He breathes.

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Jun 16, 2014

Jun 16, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC

Oh God, Here We Go Again.

Why is it That every time A boy shows me kindness I can't stop my mind from going a million miles a second. He will say A simple thought And my heart swells An inch bigger With each syllable Said without any Actual emotion. I'm starting to think That my ribs are breaking, That my sternum Will burst The next time He breathes.

19

I want to fall in love very soon. A fast love that lasts for a season, and then we accept the circumstances under which we must oblige. I need a band-aid. Someone to patch up my wounds for a bit until I heal. And then a quick sting, and it's over. I always tell myself, you don't need anyone to love you besides yourself. Oh, but then I say, a boy makes it much more fun.

0

May 18, 2014

May 18, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC

I want to fall in love very soon

I want to fall in love very soon. A fast love that lasts for a season, and then we accept the circumstances under which we must oblige. I need a band-aid. Someone to patch up my wounds for a bit until I heal. And then a quick sting, and it's over. I always tell myself, you don't need anyone to love you besides yourself. Oh, but then I say, a boy makes it much more fun.

14

I look into the mirror, with the same eyes that looked upon my younger self, and decided to destroy her. The same eyes that looked into mine, and consequently forgot to say, that they cared for so many years. The same eyes that avoid all contact, for weeks at a time, yet meet with cowardice frequently. My eyes have seen darkness, my own destruction, for years on years. His eyes tell me that he began, to lock his gun cabinet, but knows that there is more ways, to **** someone than bullets. I guess his eyes speak more, than he believes them to, but you can't put a lock, on the silence I must live in.

0

Apr 23, 2014

Apr 23, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC

Daddy Problems

I look into the mirror, with the same eyes that looked upon my younger self, and decided to destroy her. The same eyes that looked into mine, and consequently forgot to say, that they cared for so many years. The same eyes that avoid all contact, for weeks at a time, yet meet with cowardice frequently. My eyes have seen darkness, my own destruction, for years on years. His eyes tell me that he began, to lock his gun cabinet, but knows that there is more ways, to **** someone than bullets. I guess his eyes speak more, than he believes them to, but you can't put a lock, on the silence I must live in.

21

My eyes painted the trees, In evergreen strokes, And the twigs started to grow, As we drove by. I knew it was impossible, For any plant at this time of year, To possibly bloom flowers, But it was beautiful, So I let it be. We drove over a hill, And onto a long flat rural road, Canopied by branches and pine needles, And I felt myself getting smaller. The face in the mirror, Is what scared me most of all, For where my face should be, Was the remnants of an addict. Purple blotches scarred my cheeks, And my nose was a shaded horizon, But the mystery of who this person was, Is what left the scars inside my head.

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Mar 8, 2014

Mar 8, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC

A Day Trip

My eyes painted the trees, In evergreen strokes, And the twigs started to grow, As we drove by. I knew it was impossible, For any plant at this time of year, To possibly bloom flowers, But it was beautiful, So I let it be. We drove over a hill, And onto a long flat rural road, Canopied by branches and pine needles, And I felt myself getting smaller. The face in the mirror, Is what scared me most of all, For where my face should be, Was the remnants of an addict. Purple blotches scarred my cheeks, And my nose was a shaded horizon, But the mystery of who this person was, Is what left the scars inside my head.

21

It doesn't bother me that, my parents are abusive. It doesn't bother me that, my poetry goes unnoticed. It doesn't bother me that, my friends think I'm psychotic. It doesn't bother me that, I'm the worst of both batches, maternal and paternal. It doesn't bother me that, I have nothing left. But the trees and the sky, keep me alive long enough, to get a perspective. The pines whisper that in a few months, I'll be released from their tyrant grasp. The birds murmur that my poems, are the best ******* words they can't understand. And even the clouds, grab me by my shoulders, and thunder in my face, that I have so much left to learn.

0

Mar 8, 2014

Mar 8, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC

I'm Probably a Sociopath

It doesn't bother me that, my parents are abusive. It doesn't bother me that, my poetry goes unnoticed. It doesn't bother me that, my friends think I'm psychotic. It doesn't bother me that, I'm the worst of both batches, maternal and paternal. It doesn't bother me that, I have nothing left. But the trees and the sky, keep me alive long enough, to get a perspective. The pines whisper that in a few months, I'll be released from their tyrant grasp. The birds murmur that my poems, are the best ******* words they can't understand. And even the clouds, grab me by my shoulders, and thunder in my face, that I have so much left to learn.

22

She says, With fresh coat of plum , Across her large lips, That she's finally finished, Giving up her pride for the sake, Of a 3-minute fling. She says that the only time, She feels truly complete, Is when he's inside her. She says she can't be comfortable, In her own skin, With anyone but him. But she can't see that, He's destroying her, From the inside out. She can't see that each time, She opens her beautiful green eyes, I can't see her anymore, But only her sadness. I think to myself, Maybe if I teach her braille, Then maybe she can finally, Read what the scars on her wrists really say.

0

Feb 18, 2014

Feb 18, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC

Shaina

She says, With fresh coat of plum , Across her large lips, That she's finally finished, Giving up her pride for the sake, Of a 3-minute fling. She says that the only time, She feels truly complete, Is when he's inside her. She says she can't be comfortable, In her own skin, With anyone but him. But she can't see that, He's destroying her, From the inside out. She can't see that each time, She opens her beautiful green eyes, I can't see her anymore, But only her sadness. I think to myself, Maybe if I teach her braille, Then maybe she can finally, Read what the scars on her wrists really say.

23

Having a night alone is exciting, Emptying the wine rack myself, Lying under the bath water, Predicting my future in breaths. My head is at ease, Everything is finally alright.

0

Feb 12, 2014

Feb 12, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC

Deceiving

Having a night alone is exciting, Emptying the wine rack myself, Lying under the bath water, Predicting my future in breaths. My head is at ease, Everything is finally alright.

6