No one dares
say anymore
that yes -
it starts with one look -
and from there,
I'll get somewhere.
Maybe lost in you.
Maybe lost with you.
and from there,
We'll get somewhere.
Maybe where we began,
just to get to where we are
over and over again.
Jun 14, 2011
Jun 14, 2011 at 1:36 AM UTC
This is me writing a poem -
or a prose ...
Whatever it seems to be to you-
you know I don't know meters--
I didn't attend lit class like you did.
This is my pen
making love to the paper
with words that won't do as much
if spoken--
I know you don't want to "hear" from me.
This is my paper
having enough space
to write on
probably everything
you wouldn't have time
to spend on
reading.
This is my paper
having a huge space
to write on -
probably as huge as the space
that's been emptied
since you told me
"I miss you,"
and I answered
"No, you don't."
I know I'm making you puke right now.
If I wasn't here, I'd be there
handing you a plastic bag.
If I wasn't here,
it could only mean
I was there --- because if I wasn't here,
it means
I could be with you
as long as I promised...
as long as you wanted.
And as much as you hate cliches,
this is one of them --
because I am just a guy who can't say
to your face
how sorry I am for not being good
at keeping promises.
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 6:11 PM UTC
she looks at you
and you feel like melting
right in front
of her eyes
it is a feeling - or more than which - I know too well
it is
as right
as it is
so wrong
you show restraint
by
looking away
although it *****
to know no other way
because you want her eyes -
and you want them more
when they are on you -
because they won't be on you
for long.
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 6:00 PM UTC
believe me I don't care
but if I do
I just do because
I want to know
how miserable you've been
since I left
and since you
let me leave
believe me I don't care
but if I do
I just do because
I want to know
how things work out between
You and
Your life
when I'm not around
I think things got better...
but I could be wrong
because if
I am right
it's gonna **** me
believe me I don't care
but If I do
I just do because
it's better than
smoking a pack
a day
my eyes
hurt
either way
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 12:22 AM UTC
all these are cliches
like
should've,
could've,
would've,
might
have beens,
would rathers...
can't you just say 'regrets'?
because everything you chose to happen
happened for a reason
and the reason
was you chose it
and it was indeed a stupid
choice
and you'll never admit it was
because you'll never learn from
your mistakes
you'll just repeat them
until they become right
because everything changes,
everything bends,
except for you,
except for me,
who'll forever melt in your
alibis
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 4:58 AM UTC
My first passion was the arts,
My first weapon was a brush,
My first move was a stroke,
Up
down
left
right
round
and
round
My first masterpiece was an image
of a boy and
a girl,
sitting on a bench,
under a tree.
The girl was leaning on the boy's
shoulder, the boy was whispering
something in her ear.
My mother asked me, "Are they in love?"
I said
"No, they are just
Young,
Happy,
and
Innocent."
Years have gone by.
I ditched arts for writing,
I ditched brushes for pens,
I ditched strokes for words,
'I'
'love'
You'
And got my first broken heart.
All I saw was myself, in my room
sitting on the floor, leaning on my bedside,
whispering, "I shouldn't have wrote that."
My mother asked me, "Are you alright?"
I said, "No. I am in love."
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 8:14 PM UTC
I didn't know I wanted you
until I tasted you through his lips,
and saw your soul through his eyes.
I felt his chest thumped to a beat,
and every beat said your name;
I liked what I heard,
more than the chill I got
when he whisphered on my ear
words that he might have said
to you before.
I never believed what he said.
But I believe he loved you.
And I believe I love him;
every part of him that
has traces of you.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:30 AM UTC
It is 'Clair de Lune'
and your fingers touching
those keys
and the way you moved each
from one note to another
The walls are painted black,
like the piano,
and that you, are within these walls
with me, playing that piece,
is more beautiful than the piece itself.
The walls resound with music
and my head echos another.
I love the music
but not as much as I love the one who plays it.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 9:14 PM UTC
I think it's her face
that I haven't seen in a while
that makes me say
'something has changed'
Maybe her lips aren't as pink
as I last saw them,
aren't as soft
as I last kissed them
Maybe her cheeks aren't as flushed
as the way they were when
I made her laugh real hard 'cause I said I'd die for her
Maybe she doesn't laugh much anymore.
Maybe no one tells her she's beautiful anymore.
I lost count of her eye lashes
She had really thick eye lashes and everytime she opened her eyes
I'd see how they match their dark brown color perfectly
...I hope it's just her face...
She loved me
and if she does not anymore,
She's beautiful
and she broke my heart.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 8:38 PM UTC
I've got you and
I'm still walking in the rain alone...and sneezing.
Don't get me wrong
because I love the rain...
I just hate the cold,
and that I'm not waterproof
and that you can't walk with me
not because you have no feet,
because you do have huge feet
but because you take tiny steps
and because you can't swim
and by the time you got here
I'm already drowning
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 6:20 AM UTC