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slytha
i have a moral aversion to capital letters because they just don't seem right to me
quiet whispers; please, my kitten you're safe here and you; she loves me as if that made all the difference. me; i couldn't save her. sobbing in the darkness you loved her. her; you took her away. too late, but i still take the blame, as i once did, always. love; poison. her love; an aphrodisiac, lethal. you; i love her. the last to kiss your warm lips quiet whispers, me; i'm so sorry. her, finding comfort in the arms of your best friend. and i cry. in death, you are frozen, and she is unchanged.
0
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:06 PM UTC
for berlioz
At the end of the day, she smiles. She is happy, and that's all I ever wanted. Choking back something that sticks in my throat and waters my eyes, She's happy, and I'm not. I should have been more careful  with my wishes.
0
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
Untitled
islamophobia at its finest you couldn't have spoken truer words three years before injustice fell cascading down upon your head like rocks each one labeled hate fear terror and it's that label, drenched in your blood that begs and screams to be renounced i am not a terrorist no, you aren't, but every pale-skinned man who doesn't know the pigment in your skin as anything but dirt couldn't see the difference so yet, we fight for you your love, your voice for every child that lives in fear we will charge on your skin tone is not a death sentence and the media who doesn't know  their right from their united left will hear us we do not need you we do not need you we do not need you us many times as God will give us strength we will charge on for you for them for Palestine for Syria for every fear-filled child we will remember and for each one fallen, trapped beneath the rocks hate, fear, terror we will set you free
0
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
for deah, or, an oath to a fallen friend
I send text messages like it's an art form. Subtle, curious glances at a blinking light that comes not nearly enough, quick replies like fluid in my fingers. I am the new generation. I am the electronic daughter of a turntable and a symphony, the quiet-on-the-outside-until-someone-calls-my-name burst of energy who comes in like a thunderstorm and leaves like a gust of wind. I love like a wildfire, dance across life like a firefly, and drown myself in the quick distractions of a busy, lights-flashing-so-bright-it-hurts world. I grab, reaching for bonds that aren't there, pull him underwater with me and clash with him like two hydrogen atoms, then burst apart in a flash of light. Love for me is an atom bomb. Love is an explosion. Love is quick encounters, kisses in the dark, passion in bright bursts that come and go as fast as lightning strikes the earth. And, gods, I want him. I cry to love him, sleep fitfully to think of him, and cannot desire for more than to run from him. I want to reach out, reach forward, reach into him, grab for something, nothing, anything that can promise me he will or won't lead to another broken promise. Lips touching, pulling me down, leaving me screaming out for air because my air not oxygen, it's nothing but him and the scent of him and the feeling of his arms wrapped around me and I can't breathe My eyes keep flickering to the green light. I groan, and type another message. I've got it so bad for this boy I understand. Have you talked to him about it? no way,,,, im a hot mess. he's too much for me, seriously Young love. seriously man don't do that I'm so frustratingly dependent rn You love him.  do not Do so. I throw the phone down, pull a stuffed animal towards me, grumble to myself, and look for the flickering light. Nothing. No response. I press my palm to my forehead and return to music, but it isn't enough. You love him. do not Like a symphony of lights and sounds knows how to love. She doesn't, I don't, not really, but I know how to reach, how to desire, how to drown myself with the semblence of a feeling. I wish I knew how to love, and I wouldn't mind if he taught me, but can I love now? After I loved that once and it was ripped from me? I don't know how. I don't remember. he ****** me up, dude, i don't even know if this is love or if i'm trying to replace the feeling i had with you-know-who with someone else I don't think so. He tried to ground you, and I don't think you really want to replace that it's like risking true love for the safe option "true love" What I'm just saying... that's how i was with him really. it was love once but it distorted into more of a safety net I guess. But you can love someone again, honey. You just have to figure out how yeah i do. somehow. god help me You can do it unsent: maybe. or maybe im hopeless It's easy to dream when you're lost. Hope is a powerful thing. They say I'm part of a generation lost in the glamour, but are we? Are we lost in the glamour, or are we losing ourselves in the flashing lights to avoid the reality of life, that stuff ***** Maybe we'll figure out how to love again, or maybe they're right. Maybe I got lost in the glamour. Maybe the wildfire will never go out, the wind will never stop, and the lights will keep flashing. Maybe I'm hopeless.
0
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
fire has no subtlety, neither do i
I send text messages like it's an art form. Subtle, curious glances at a blinking light that comes not nearly enough, quick replies like fluid in my fingers. I am the new generation. I am the electronic daughter of a turntable and a symphony, the quiet-on-the-outside-until-someone-calls-my-name burst of energy who comes in like a thunderstorm and leaves like a gust of wind. I love like a wildfire, dance across life like a firefly, and drown myself in the quick distractions of a busy, lights-flashing-so-bright-it-hurts world. I grab, reaching for bonds that aren't there, pull him underwater with me and clash with him like two hydrogen atoms, then burst apart in a flash of light. Love for me is an atom bomb. Love is an explosion. Love is quick encounters, kisses in the dark, passion in bright bursts that come and go as fast as lightning strikes the earth. And, gods, I want him. I cry to love him, sleep fitfully to think of him, and cannot desire for more than to run from him. I want to reach out, reach forward, reach into him, grab for something, nothing, anything that can promise me he will or won't lead to another broken promise. Lips touching, pulling me down, leaving me screaming out for air because my air not oxygen, it's nothing but him and the scent of him and the feeling of his arms wrapped around me and I can't breathe My eyes keep flickering to the green light. I groan, and type another message. I've got it so bad for this boy I understand. Have you talked to him about it? no way,,,, im a hot mess. he's too much for me, seriously Young love. seriously man don't do that I'm so frustratingly dependent rn You love him.  do not Do so. I throw the phone down, pull a stuffed animal towards me, grumble to myself, and look for the flickering light. Nothing. No response. I press my palm to my forehead and return to music, but it isn't enough. You love him. do not Like a symphony of lights and sounds knows how to love. She doesn't, I don't, not really, but I know how to reach, how to desire, how to drown myself with the semblence of a feeling. I wish I knew how to love, and I wouldn't mind if he taught me, but can I love now? After I loved that once and it was ripped from me? I don't know how. I don't remember. he ****** me up, dude, i don't even know if this is love or if i'm trying to replace the feeling i had with you-know-who with someone else I don't think so. He tried to ground you, and I don't think you really want to replace that it's like risking true love for the safe option "true love" What I'm just saying... that's how i was with him really. it was love once but it distorted into more of a safety net I guess. But you can love someone again, honey. You just have to figure out how yeah i do. somehow. god help me You can do it unsent: maybe. or maybe im hopeless It's easy to dream when you're lost. Hope is a powerful thing. They say I'm part of a generation lost in the glamour, but are we? Are we lost in the glamour, or are we losing ourselves in the flashing lights to avoid the reality of life, that stuff ***** Maybe we'll figure out how to love again, or maybe they're right. Maybe I got lost in the glamour. Maybe the wildfire will never go out, the wind will never stop, and the lights will keep flashing. Maybe I'm hopeless.
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i was a cold, sad girl tiny, too tiny, oh so tiny but never enough to be that girl the ballerina with wings instead of feet cold, so cold chilled to the bones that fed my obsession and taunted me the desire to grow wings the haunting feeling feathers brushing my shoulders but weight, so much weight flight held down with bones like anchors i had no perseus to unchain me from the rocks. i was a cold, sad girl who needed just enough to cut the chains myself to give life to my wings and fly away
0
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
slippery
Who is she but blood of that demise In fiery passion her own blood consumes? Like powder waiting for the heat of flame Whose heat in lonely agony she bathes? What is it but fire of that demise Whose sacrificial prodigies be made To keep him superstitious of the flame? And in triumph, like fire, they consume.
0
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
firebird