thebestofus - Hello Poetry

i wasn't born to not put up a fight

0

May 8, 2018

May 8, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC

i've been to hell and back, and every time, you start to slack, but you are my prozac, you are my soundtrack, and nothing sounds the same without you.

0

Apr 24, 2018

Apr 24, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC

without you

i've been to hell and back, and every time, you start to slack, but you are my prozac, you are my soundtrack, and nothing sounds the same without you.

5

i feel safer with you, but i know i'm safer without you

0

Apr 7, 2017

Apr 7, 2017 at 2:00 PM UTC

safe

i feel safer with you, but i know i'm safer without you

3

now i normally wouldn't say this but i think you gotta know yes, I'm two years late but did you really have to go? and i normally wouldn't do this but i've cleaned up my act im not like i used to be and i wish you'd take me back

0

Apr 6, 2017

Apr 6, 2017 at 8:28 AM UTC

2 yrs late

now i normally wouldn't say this but i think you gotta know yes, I'm two years late but did you really have to go? and i normally wouldn't do this but i've cleaned up my act im not like i used to be and i wish you'd take me back

8

her favorite color is blue her hair is blonde. her lips are blue. so are her fingers. her nails are silver. her heart is cold. it’s winter here. below freezing at this point. blue. the snow is a blue-white, its untouchable. cold, to the point where it hurts she is blue. she is dead. blue blue blue blue. she was pale. like a ghost. maybe she was one. pale. blue. she was smiling at me. her lips were blue. dark blue. her silver fingers tapped along the desk. she had a blue pen. uncapped, poised to write. blue ink flowed out; the pen broke, ink spilling on her hands. she didn't mind. she told me she liked blue. she is dead. she didn’t clean it up. blue everywhere. i went over to help her she didn't know me. she smiled, her lips blue. dark blue. i smiled back. i handed her a towel; she cleaned. the teacher wasn’t looking. her hair was long, cascading. the ends of it, blue. her silver nails touch my hands in thanks. i went back to my seat. my friend looked at me. i looked back. he looked at the blue girl, towel still in her hands. he raised an eyebrow at me; i shake my head. blue girl stares at her pen, broken in half, the insides spilling out, slowly then all of it gone, wiped away like it wasn’t there in the first place. blue still on her mind. we kissed. it was after school. i was standing outside, and she came up to me. to say thank you. for helping her. she was pretty. her hair was pretty. she was pretty. she smiled, i smiled back, she stepped closer, her blue dress blowing in the wind. it was spring she was alive. and breathing. blue. i saw lots of blue. her lips were blue. dark blue, and touched mine. blue on pink, silver on clear. she pulled away first. smiled at me. walked away. blue lipstick on my lips still. i liked her. her blue lips and silver fingers. they were part of her. she was pretty. my friend slapped me on the back for getting a kiss from her. like it was a competition. but it wasn’t. he wouldn’t have been able to handle her anyways. she’s her own person, an enigma of her own. a didn’t understand her myself. she was beautiful. she was alive. i didn’t see her again until the weekend. she was covered in blue paint in the paint store. i needed to repaint my room. she offered to help. she’s in my house, in my room, we’re alone together. i wonder if she’ll kiss me again. she did kiss me. when i touched her silver fingers, she looked at me and kissed me again. i didn’t pull away. she pressed me against my wall, blue paint on my back, on her hands, in my hair. i looked at her, she looked at me. we kissed again. her hands on my shoulders, she was a pretty blue girl, in my room. she was warm. she liked my name. i liked hers. i liked her. a lot. it was summer. she was still alive, even prettier. her hair was still blonde, still silver. she got a tan. she knows me. i know her. i love her. she doesn’t know. i met her mom, she’s also blue. she met my family, she loves them. its fall, her tan is gone, back to blue, dark blue. she said she loves me i say i love her, it’s winter and she is dead. i visit her grave, buy her while flowers and paint them blue-dark-blue so she’ll like them. i tell her i love her, that I’ll see her soon. i buy pink and white flowers, paint the white blue. pink for me, blue for her. she is dead, but she is still alive. and blue.

0

Apr 4, 2017

Apr 4, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC

blue girl pt. 2

her favorite color is blue her hair is blonde. her lips are blue. so are her fingers. her nails are silver. her heart is cold. it’s winter here. below freezing at this point. blue. the snow is a blue-white, its untouchable. cold, to the point where it hurts she is blue. she is dead. blue blue blue blue. she was pale. like a ghost. maybe she was one. pale. blue. she was smiling at me. her lips were blue. dark blue. her silver fingers tapped along the desk. she had a blue pen. uncapped, poised to write. blue ink flowed out; the pen broke, ink spilling on her hands. she didn't mind. she told me she liked blue. she is dead. she didn’t clean it up. blue everywhere. i went over to help her she didn't know me. she smiled, her lips blue. dark blue. i smiled back. i handed her a towel; she cleaned. the teacher wasn’t looking. her hair was long, cascading. the ends of it, blue. her silver nails touch my hands in thanks. i went back to my seat. my friend looked at me. i looked back. he looked at the blue girl, towel still in her hands. he raised an eyebrow at me; i shake my head. blue girl stares at her pen, broken in half, the insides spilling out, slowly then all of it gone, wiped away like it wasn’t there in the first place. blue still on her mind. we kissed. it was after school. i was standing outside, and she came up to me. to say thank you. for helping her. she was pretty. her hair was pretty. she was pretty. she smiled, i smiled back, she stepped closer, her blue dress blowing in the wind. it was spring she was alive. and breathing. blue. i saw lots of blue. her lips were blue. dark blue, and touched mine. blue on pink, silver on clear. she pulled away first. smiled at me. walked away. blue lipstick on my lips still. i liked her. her blue lips and silver fingers. they were part of her. she was pretty. my friend slapped me on the back for getting a kiss from her. like it was a competition. but it wasn’t. he wouldn’t have been able to handle her anyways. she’s her own person, an enigma of her own. a didn’t understand her myself. she was beautiful. she was alive. i didn’t see her again until the weekend. she was covered in blue paint in the paint store. i needed to repaint my room. she offered to help. she’s in my house, in my room, we’re alone together. i wonder if she’ll kiss me again. she did kiss me. when i touched her silver fingers, she looked at me and kissed me again. i didn’t pull away. she pressed me against my wall, blue paint on my back, on her hands, in my hair. i looked at her, she looked at me. we kissed again. her hands on my shoulders, she was a pretty blue girl, in my room. she was warm. she liked my name. i liked hers. i liked her. a lot. it was summer. she was still alive, even prettier. her hair was still blonde, still silver. she got a tan. she knows me. i know her. i love her. she doesn’t know. i met her mom, she’s also blue. she met my family, she loves them. its fall, her tan is gone, back to blue, dark blue. she said she loves me i say i love her, it’s winter and she is dead. i visit her grave, buy her while flowers and paint them blue-dark-blue so she’ll like them. i tell her i love her, that I’ll see her soon. i buy pink and white flowers, paint the white blue. pink for me, blue for her. she is dead, but she is still alive. and blue.

205

blue blue blue blue. she was pale, like a ghost. maybe she was one. pale. blue. she was smiling at me. her lips were blue. dark blue. her silver fingers tapped along the desk. she had a blue pen. uncapped, poised to write. blue ink flowed out; the pen broke, ink spilling on her hands. she didn't mind. she told me she liked blue. she is dead.

0

Mar 24, 2017

Mar 24, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC

blue girl

blue blue blue blue. she was pale, like a ghost. maybe she was one. pale. blue. she was smiling at me. her lips were blue. dark blue. her silver fingers tapped along the desk. she had a blue pen. uncapped, poised to write. blue ink flowed out; the pen broke, ink spilling on her hands. she didn't mind. she told me she liked blue. she is dead.

25

sometimes, i think of death. sometimes, i think of what it would be like. i lie on my back and stare at the stars wondering what would happen if gravity turned off and i fell into the sky. fell into something endless, something much bigger than i am. i wonder if that's what it feels like to die. sometimes, i wonder.

0

Dec 9, 2016

Dec 9, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC

sometimes

sometimes, i think of death. sometimes, i think of what it would be like. i lie on my back and stare at the stars wondering what would happen if gravity turned off and i fell into the sky. fell into something endless, something much bigger than i am. i wonder if that's what it feels like to die. sometimes, i wonder.

9

my heart is tattooed with the ink from your skin my mind is rescued with every word from your lips, so stay and grow old with me, hold my hand the whole way through, i'll love you 'till hell is ice cold just as long as you'll love me too

0

Apr 29, 2016

Apr 29, 2016 at 6:20 AM UTC

my heart

my heart is tattooed with the ink from your skin my mind is rescued with every word from your lips, so stay and grow old with me, hold my hand the whole way through, i'll love you 'till hell is ice cold just as long as you'll love me too

8

i think i miss leah. it makes me feel like crap. i think i want the all nighters back, the sandwiches and the mattress on the ground. i think i want the cat-dog days back, the days before boyfriends back. maybe i'm going crazy, i think i keep it in, i think i think i don't. i think i miss leah.

0

Apr 28, 2016

Apr 28, 2016 at 5:56 PM UTC

leah

i think i miss leah. it makes me feel like crap. i think i want the all nighters back, the sandwiches and the mattress on the ground. i think i want the cat-dog days back, the days before boyfriends back. maybe i'm going crazy, i think i keep it in, i think i think i don't. i think i miss leah.

10

start no stop go it hurts you're fine i'm dying you're trying i can't you will i'll do it stay still only one then some more start with two turns into four start no stop go

0

Apr 26, 2016

Apr 26, 2016 at 12:59 PM UTC

internal

start no stop go it hurts you're fine i'm dying you're trying i can't you will i'll do it stay still only one then some more start with two turns into four start no stop go

20