ms-lynch - Hello Poetry

My heart is a hurricane yet my blood is the bay, My mind tells me to run but all I want is to stay. Suddenly within these puzzle pieces, denatured with time, Confused emotion has made them align. I’m terrified to be caught in the headlights, Red-handed with love in the dead of night. (I’m waiting for the tide to come in.) My mind panics but my whole body just slips, Melting into this ******** ****** drip. Blue veins fast stained bright red, emptiness to too much, My skin cells breathing so deeply with just the slightest touch. Driving with the windows open as winter wind slaps me, I think of all the questions that I wish you’d ask me. (Because I won’t talk unless you want to listen.) God’s a sick magician, playing silly tricks, While I’m withdrawing, slowly hurting, waiting for my fix. I’ve been given so much, much more than I need, But your skin is my religion in the temple between sheets. Like a fire I keep on feeding, because I love the warmth, I know that it could hurt me but still I want for more. (Besides, I like the sparks that scare me.) The darkest part is I don’t care, in the night I miss your voice, But my guilt is all washed out by satisfied white noise. And I try to keep the storm stitched up together in my soul, But it feels so good to have my hands full inside of filling in a hole. And with just a moment, I’m unzipped and it all falls out, My dam’s wide open, so is yours, an estuary full of doubt. (Salt water is all we are, hurricanes and bays.) As the clock ticks and the scales tip, I feel something is coming, And I’m not sure, fight or flight, to stand still or start running. My gut is screaming, joining the club of head and heart, No one ever said it would be this hard, oh, take me back to the start. I stare at God’s hands as he holds the cards, hoping for some cures, But, worse, he just slides the deck to me and says “the choice is yours.” (And that scares me.)

0

Feb 14, 2015

Feb 14, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC

Winter’s Veins Are Filled with Oceans (I Am God)

My heart is a hurricane yet my blood is the bay, My mind tells me to run but all I want is to stay. Suddenly within these puzzle pieces, denatured with time, Confused emotion has made them align. I’m terrified to be caught in the headlights, Red-handed with love in the dead of night. (I’m waiting for the tide to come in.) My mind panics but my whole body just slips, Melting into this ******** ****** drip. Blue veins fast stained bright red, emptiness to too much, My skin cells breathing so deeply with just the slightest touch. Driving with the windows open as winter wind slaps me, I think of all the questions that I wish you’d ask me. (Because I won’t talk unless you want to listen.) God’s a sick magician, playing silly tricks, While I’m withdrawing, slowly hurting, waiting for my fix. I’ve been given so much, much more than I need, But your skin is my religion in the temple between sheets. Like a fire I keep on feeding, because I love the warmth, I know that it could hurt me but still I want for more. (Besides, I like the sparks that scare me.) The darkest part is I don’t care, in the night I miss your voice, But my guilt is all washed out by satisfied white noise. And I try to keep the storm stitched up together in my soul, But it feels so good to have my hands full inside of filling in a hole. And with just a moment, I’m unzipped and it all falls out, My dam’s wide open, so is yours, an estuary full of doubt. (Salt water is all we are, hurricanes and bays.) As the clock ticks and the scales tip, I feel something is coming, And I’m not sure, fight or flight, to stand still or start running. My gut is screaming, joining the club of head and heart, No one ever said it would be this hard, oh, take me back to the start. I stare at God’s hands as he holds the cards, hoping for some cures, But, worse, he just slides the deck to me and says “the choice is yours.” (And that scares me.)

35

I am giving up on the thought that you will ever give me as much time as I give you honor. Every time I try to grow a flower, you hand me a bomb. The world is a dark place, and I am a mere candle, trying to hold it together in the wind. Because it rips out my heart to hear you grow the courage to say those words to a girl, when you would never even notice all the love in my eyes. And people forget how much love can hurt until that familiar hand comes to slap them again. You ripped me up from the ground, roots and all exposed, then snipped them with scissors without a second thought. I am tired of making myself whole, only to hand you the knife for you to slice me open. It is exhausting, and fruitless, and soul-aching to hold so much for someone who would never hold you again. And him, with his bright love and strong-holding mind, loved me from afar only to drop me when I gave in. And him, with his unexpected arrival in my life, so aware of our wavelength, yet choosing to deny. And him, with his tender funniness and joy, brought me to his bedroom, then kicked me out of his door. And him, with his dark eyes and ridiculous smile, almost saved me, just to drown me right after. I am tired of giving myself to people who cry for me, only to push me away as though I forced myself on them. And you, you are the worst of them all, my never-ending crucifixion who I could never regret. On a gloomy Sunday, when everything falls apart, including myself, all I want is you next to me, but all I want is you gone.

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Nov 16, 2014

Nov 16, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC

Tight Junctions

I am giving up on the thought that you will ever give me as much time as I give you honor. Every time I try to grow a flower, you hand me a bomb. The world is a dark place, and I am a mere candle, trying to hold it together in the wind. Because it rips out my heart to hear you grow the courage to say those words to a girl, when you would never even notice all the love in my eyes. And people forget how much love can hurt until that familiar hand comes to slap them again. You ripped me up from the ground, roots and all exposed, then snipped them with scissors without a second thought. I am tired of making myself whole, only to hand you the knife for you to slice me open. It is exhausting, and fruitless, and soul-aching to hold so much for someone who would never hold you again. And him, with his bright love and strong-holding mind, loved me from afar only to drop me when I gave in. And him, with his unexpected arrival in my life, so aware of our wavelength, yet choosing to deny. And him, with his tender funniness and joy, brought me to his bedroom, then kicked me out of his door. And him, with his dark eyes and ridiculous smile, almost saved me, just to drown me right after. I am tired of giving myself to people who cry for me, only to push me away as though I forced myself on them. And you, you are the worst of them all, my never-ending crucifixion who I could never regret. On a gloomy Sunday, when everything falls apart, including myself, all I want is you next to me, but all I want is you gone.

15

I want to feel your teeth so close to my veins I can hear the hickeys you're about to leave on my neck, and I want to feel your mouth so close to my heart I can feel the kisses you're about to plant on my body, and I want you thisclose to me so that I can feel your soul melting into mine, and I want you.

0

Oct 27, 2014

Oct 27, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC

Yearning

I want to feel your teeth so close to my veins I can hear the hickeys you're about to leave on my neck, and I want to feel your mouth so close to my heart I can feel the kisses you're about to plant on my body, and I want you thisclose to me so that I can feel your soul melting into mine, and I want you.

13

You are the bloom of the starlet sea flower and when I swim down to smell you I drown and drown and drown; I would swallow the ocean just to feel your petals rise towards my face and kiss me goodbye.

0

Oct 21, 2014

Oct 21, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC

sea flower

You are the bloom of the starlet sea flower and when I swim down to smell you I drown and drown and drown; I would swallow the ocean just to feel your petals rise towards my face and kiss me goodbye.

8

Love is unselfish. Love is unconditional. Love is wanting their happiness, even if it does not mean your happiness. Love is being awake and alive and wishing they were here to experience this with you. Love is being ******* furious, taking a deep breath before you twist the knife in, and instead stitching them up. Love is holding back their hair and rubbing their back while they throw up; drunken mistakes are nothing to be ashamed of, babe. Love is feeling blood and hormones rush through your body the moment you realize they're here, they are here. Love is birthday cake, Christmas lights, spotlights and dreamboats, breakfast for dinner, and making anywhere home as long their arms are around you. Love is moonlight *** morning kisses before you've brushed your teeth, their hand sliding down your pants under the table. Love is craziness, insanity, being so fueled by emotion that nothing makes sense and you can't help but act. Love is singing it all at the tops of buildings, kissing them when nobody or everyone is watching, being not only unafraid but proud to claim them as yours. Love is wanting nobody else in the world except them because nobody else is worth it; nobody else could hold even one-tenth of their value to you. Love is meaning it, every word. Love is ridiculously long letters, hand-painted cards, drunk text messages, and forever-blurred vision. Love is a slip of the tongue while you're high, playing guitar on a back porch at three in the morning, and wanting someone with every fiber of your being even if you'll swear to the death that you don't. Love is choosing someone, knowing that although it's going to be difficult, and painful, and sometimes ****** you are willing to take on any challenge as long as they will be there when you wake up in the morning. Love is deep, deep, deep down, sometimes small but always glowing, ready to spark a fire again at any time, if only you'd poke at the embers and let it burn.

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Sep 28, 2014

Sep 28, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC

Always.

Love is unselfish. Love is unconditional. Love is wanting their happiness, even if it does not mean your happiness. Love is being awake and alive and wishing they were here to experience this with you. Love is being ******* furious, taking a deep breath before you twist the knife in, and instead stitching them up. Love is holding back their hair and rubbing their back while they throw up; drunken mistakes are nothing to be ashamed of, babe. Love is feeling blood and hormones rush through your body the moment you realize they're here, they are here. Love is birthday cake, Christmas lights, spotlights and dreamboats, breakfast for dinner, and making anywhere home as long their arms are around you. Love is moonlight *** morning kisses before you've brushed your teeth, their hand sliding down your pants under the table. Love is craziness, insanity, being so fueled by emotion that nothing makes sense and you can't help but act. Love is singing it all at the tops of buildings, kissing them when nobody or everyone is watching, being not only unafraid but proud to claim them as yours. Love is wanting nobody else in the world except them because nobody else is worth it; nobody else could hold even one-tenth of their value to you. Love is meaning it, every word. Love is ridiculously long letters, hand-painted cards, drunk text messages, and forever-blurred vision. Love is a slip of the tongue while you're high, playing guitar on a back porch at three in the morning, and wanting someone with every fiber of your being even if you'll swear to the death that you don't. Love is choosing someone, knowing that although it's going to be difficult, and painful, and sometimes ****** you are willing to take on any challenge as long as they will be there when you wake up in the morning. Love is deep, deep, deep down, sometimes small but always glowing, ready to spark a fire again at any time, if only you'd poke at the embers and let it burn.

1

Back bent, arms out, I cannot contain my spirit's desire. I will dance if there is no music, and roll with the punches, even if nobody is throwing them. I am heaven-sent, hell-born, purgatory-living in its finest form. If you dare to laugh, I'll laugh along, too, Because it feels good to hurt so bad. You don't seem to realize how much I know without saying a word, with just a look in your eye. I am glimmering, reading, illusion illustration, staring into the greatest galaxies I have imagined for myself. And you, with petty marks and pretty scars, have ventured out into the cold without shoes on. As I look both ways to cross the street, your pinky swear pulls me back in. You are the sea turtle's deep, slow, sleepy veins, and I am a hummingbird heartbeat.

0

Sep 15, 2014

Sep 15, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC

I'm Your Bad Dream

Back bent, arms out, I cannot contain my spirit's desire. I will dance if there is no music, and roll with the punches, even if nobody is throwing them. I am heaven-sent, hell-born, purgatory-living in its finest form. If you dare to laugh, I'll laugh along, too, Because it feels good to hurt so bad. You don't seem to realize how much I know without saying a word, with just a look in your eye. I am glimmering, reading, illusion illustration, staring into the greatest galaxies I have imagined for myself. And you, with petty marks and pretty scars, have ventured out into the cold without shoes on. As I look both ways to cross the street, your pinky swear pulls me back in. You are the sea turtle's deep, slow, sleepy veins, and I am a hummingbird heartbeat.

19

It’s all spinning in my head, burning with friction and fire. Your name is etched all on my lips, all crossed out with a scar. I’ve been trying to erase it, but it’s so strong I can taste it even now. I am so ashamed and so alone and maybe that’s why I can’t think of anything else. I am so high, I’m out of my mind, but I can’t come down. I’m unsure if your heart beats just as mine. I can’t say now but something’s brewing, boiling up with time. I ******* miss you and it is hurting every fiber of my being; I refuse to wonder why. I can’t come to terms with what’s lurking under my bed. I’m afraid that this is all in my head. I’m afraid that I’ll never see you again… if I tell you any of it. Because I know you’ll just blame me. Because it is not what we think or what we have, it is what we do. The choice is clear from you. I still miss you.

0

Sep 6, 2014

Sep 6, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC

Twisted @ the Stage Door

It’s all spinning in my head, burning with friction and fire. Your name is etched all on my lips, all crossed out with a scar. I’ve been trying to erase it, but it’s so strong I can taste it even now. I am so ashamed and so alone and maybe that’s why I can’t think of anything else. I am so high, I’m out of my mind, but I can’t come down. I’m unsure if your heart beats just as mine. I can’t say now but something’s brewing, boiling up with time. I ******* miss you and it is hurting every fiber of my being; I refuse to wonder why. I can’t come to terms with what’s lurking under my bed. I’m afraid that this is all in my head. I’m afraid that I’ll never see you again… if I tell you any of it. Because I know you’ll just blame me. Because it is not what we think or what we have, it is what we do. The choice is clear from you. I still miss you.

1

Blue clouds and soft notes and fingers down my spine, The wood grain looks like thick rain and your taste is fine (so fine.) Let the wind blow wherever I go, I’ll lead you where it’s safe. On the long grass, off the stone path, we will wander until it’s late. You will hold me up, by the bull’s horns, by the headstrong heat in me, I will push back, until you realize I am trying to make you make me bleed. Ghosts will skip out from the closet, try to play with you and me. Skeletons will rise out their graves, try to trick you so you leave. I am so afraid of you but if you leave, I will cry (cry, cry, cry.) But if you walk out, I will lose it, I’ll join those skeletons and die. Hold my gold ring, while I go sing, kiss the doctor under your nose. Don’t get mad, dear, this is poetry, you’ll know we’re real when it’s prose. I saw an alien in my bed once, he whispered the secret of life. He told me life is but a chess game and love is but a knife.

0

Aug 28, 2014

Aug 28, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC

Party Hats

Blue clouds and soft notes and fingers down my spine, The wood grain looks like thick rain and your taste is fine (so fine.) Let the wind blow wherever I go, I’ll lead you where it’s safe. On the long grass, off the stone path, we will wander until it’s late. You will hold me up, by the bull’s horns, by the headstrong heat in me, I will push back, until you realize I am trying to make you make me bleed. Ghosts will skip out from the closet, try to play with you and me. Skeletons will rise out their graves, try to trick you so you leave. I am so afraid of you but if you leave, I will cry (cry, cry, cry.) But if you walk out, I will lose it, I’ll join those skeletons and die. Hold my gold ring, while I go sing, kiss the doctor under your nose. Don’t get mad, dear, this is poetry, you’ll know we’re real when it’s prose. I saw an alien in my bed once, he whispered the secret of life. He told me life is but a chess game and love is but a knife.

14

You were born Inside the old letters I wrote when I was nine. I dreamed of you slowly, Pushing patience as you Took your time. You were warm, Lying still and quiet, Beneath my lonely mind. I waited for your sweet eyes, Looking past others as I Waited in line. You woke up In my heartbeat, When you held me that first time. You were gracious, So darling and spacious, And I spread out this soul of mine. You burst open In my bloodstream, When your skin melted into mine. You were nesting and hiving, Became scarred handwriting, Hot to the touch on each freckle. You fell asleep, Stuck in a bad dream, Where the real you walked away. You were flailing and diving, So unsure and crying, And running away from me. You are here, You will always be here, Stuck hopelessly in my heart. You keep leaving and coming, And my heart is always drumming, I will always be humming for you.

0

Aug 28, 2014

Aug 28, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC

Sweet Subconscious

You were born Inside the old letters I wrote when I was nine. I dreamed of you slowly, Pushing patience as you Took your time. You were warm, Lying still and quiet, Beneath my lonely mind. I waited for your sweet eyes, Looking past others as I Waited in line. You woke up In my heartbeat, When you held me that first time. You were gracious, So darling and spacious, And I spread out this soul of mine. You burst open In my bloodstream, When your skin melted into mine. You were nesting and hiving, Became scarred handwriting, Hot to the touch on each freckle. You fell asleep, Stuck in a bad dream, Where the real you walked away. You were flailing and diving, So unsure and crying, And running away from me. You are here, You will always be here, Stuck hopelessly in my heart. You keep leaving and coming, And my heart is always drumming, I will always be humming for you.

36

Undeniable draw with a taste for the taboo, my world is sparkling all over, all over. And he is all over me, warm weight and bad jokes and I just can't stop laughing. The world is my oyster but sometimes I clam up, so afraid of how strong all my emotions are. But I'm not scared long, or I'm scared and I'm smiling, because it feels so good to look into his eyes. I'll wade in the waters in a big pink pool tube laughing at the riptide as I'm carried away, I'm carried away, I'm always getting carried away. Dip my toes in the gold for a moment, leaving twenty little prints in the wake of my day.

0

Jun 24, 2014

Jun 24, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC

19 (Almost 20)

Undeniable draw with a taste for the taboo, my world is sparkling all over, all over. And he is all over me, warm weight and bad jokes and I just can't stop laughing. The world is my oyster but sometimes I clam up, so afraid of how strong all my emotions are. But I'm not scared long, or I'm scared and I'm smiling, because it feels so good to look into his eyes. I'll wade in the waters in a big pink pool tube laughing at the riptide as I'm carried away, I'm carried away, I'm always getting carried away. Dip my toes in the gold for a moment, leaving twenty little prints in the wake of my day.

23