If I was inside out you’d see a heart that’s full pumping love through a roadmap of veins
You’d see a mind of thoughts scattered across mountains
You’d smile at eyes that look in and a soul that shines out
In the guts there’s nerves, excitement, butterflies
They say on the inside there’s true beauty,
On the outside
There’s just me!
Apr 6, 2022
Apr 6, 2022 at 6:55 PM UTC
What do we do without words?
What's an explanation with letters?
Add an exclamation will that do?
What can I say to you?
What do we do without words?
How do I paraphrase my heart?
A new paragraph I'll start again.
Will you understand me then?
What do we do without words?
Does my grammar really matter?
Can you hear that full stop I chose?
A b c I'll conduct my prose.
What do we do without words?
What's a mumbled jumbled phrase?
What do we do when words aren't enough?
I'll close my mouth and show you love!
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 4:03 AM UTC
Can I see you're ID? That's what you'll ask me.
And my chubby cheeks will match the faded grey ones you see.
You'll know my address or at least the address im pretending to be.
You don't care about my favourite colour or how I like my tea.
You don't even care if that's not me.
As long as I look as I appear on the tin
I'll get in.
You'll parade me through knowing that you've seen my Card.
IS THAT ME?
I match the card I hold in my hand and that's all that stands.
Nobody cares that I liked steps or that it took me three days to choose this dress.
My hair looks the same and you'll check my name.
I'll play your game.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
It's battered.
Worn around the edges,
Off colour.
It doesn't seem to work.
The buttons stick in.
It's darker,
It's lived in a lifeless place.
It's faded,
A fade that goes from the inside out.
It's wobbly,
All loose on the outside but hollow in.
It's picked up thrown down,
Torn up and rubbed out.
It's worse than bad and older than its age.
life put me down.
It's broken she said.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:08 PM UTC
In her future she will gaze at you across a feast of pleasant remarks and thirsty laughter and you will not know her.
You will not know her in the past when that very act drowned her at her dining room table amongst guests whose stares cursed her soul. Watching every bitter sweet taste.
What will she waste?
Presently she is tasting the idea of you, sweet. Palatable. She is swallowing her life one mouthful at a time patiently waiting for your heart
to be served.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
I like you, not least because your words inspire me and encourage me.
But because your strength empowers me and I feel it as you have felt it.
In a not quite right "way" in a scribbled out ripped up way that only two sides of the same coin will ever really understand.
I like you because there's so much of you that reflects in my mirror of secret tales and windy whispers. I wouldn't tell them either.
Those bunch of perfect flowers that blossom so perfectly despite the rain. I am that same seed that never quite stems roots that always wilts.
I like you because you know that normal is an ideal.
Normal is not real.
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 3:41 PM UTC
He was the doctor who saved your life,
He was the waiter who made your night,
He was the friend you always had,
He was the worlds greatest dad,
He was the man you'll never know,
He is a boy who'll never grow.
Can't you see what we've done wrong?
We left him out there all alone.
We are the reason the seas are red.
It's our fault the beach boy's dead.
He was the toughest lesson of all,
While power rises more will fall.
Stop and think what's this for?
No more bodies on the shore!
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
My poem is a topic of sadness wanting and emptiness, if my heart breaks it's not the way you envisage.
You reached me with your verse a tide connected my topic out there to yours.
Our letters and words entwined like I felt something as you did,
In a time or place we don't know. Out of prose. I saw your wisdom and it inked my page.
There's a train of thought that carries words from one to another.
I was at the station patiently waiting for it to stop.
You got off.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
Theres a place where I go,
its harmony and bliss and worries roam like clouds over someone elses head,
my footsteps are smaller, I'm lighter and happiness is here.
This place is a secret garden, there are others here too.
They are not my friends, yet there is comfort in their vacant stares.
They are floating too, high on forgetfulness.
Masking some other unfortunate reality that we can not escape.
Once the gate locks its difficult to remember why its so bad here.
Why my "happy" place is darkened by recreational neglect and uncomfortably bright sounds.
Reality is just an echo in my heart.
My want to go home fights my urge to stay and it rips through me. It always wins.
Theres a trick that the magician hasnt shown me yet.
I want to go home, but here I forget.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC
It hurts to see your feeble bones draped with colourless skin,
your eyes sunken back into your soul,
your smile withers at the edges and theres a tremble in your talk.
I miss you although your not gone,
I miss the way you only ever rotted on the inside,
I want to reverse the evil axis of time.
There is no sympathy without loss,
and without loss there is hope,
a dark deathly tale of hope.
a rain shower will not mend your wilted flower so I keep dry,
whilst onlookers fail to understand why my heavens wont open.
I remember you, the way the sun still shines.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC