I'm in love with my best friend.
not the sister type of love.
the love where I want her in my bed.
I want to be in the most intimate parts of her life.
I've seen her hurt so many times before,
I just want to be the one to make it right.
how do I deal with this?
where do I go from here?
thank god she's far away,
bc it would be a done deal if she was here.
I'm trying to forget these feelings.
trying to push them aside
but is it healthy to keep this all inside?
but I feel like **** for feeling this way bc we'll never be more than friends.
I'm way in over my head for thinking something can change.
it's funny bc I'm taken and I feel this way.
isn't it strange
that I would leave the current one
just to be with her.
she doesn't understand.
she doesn't feel the same way,
so I keep my mouth close everyday
why did I even put myself in this position?
someone is going to be hurt in the end.
it's probably going to be me bc I'm in love with my straight best friend.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
We have met once before.
You lined the sky.
Mostly with blue.
Sometimes with pastels.
You threw up clouds.
Smiled translucent rays.
Exhale fresh of lavender fields.
Let me explore you.
Run through you like a field.
Embracing every grace me with your presence.
Soak into me with your intoxication.
Fill me up from every pour.
Step into this.
Get me lost.
Deep into your winding paths.
Pour out of me.
Spit love off my fingertips.
So I can touch things with true love.
Let me be something.
More than anything I want to be your something.
Filled up and dripping with acceptance.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
i walked in a garden
i saw roses, daisies, bougainvilleas
pagoda and peonies too
and somehow they reminded me of you
the roses reminded me of your lips
how it's so red and lovely
how it curves whenever your smile along with your eyes
how it separates when you laugh
the daisies reminded me of your eyes
how it slowly blooms beautifully in morning
how lovely when it slowly closes at night
how chatoyant it was when touched by light
the bougainvillea reminded me of your being
how you stood strong despite everything
how you stayed lucent and beautiful
how you let yourself bloom in many colours
the pagoda reminded me of your skin
how it's yellowish and eternally beautiful
how smooth and soft it was
how selcouth it seems in my retina
the peonies reminded me of your heart
how it's still exquisite despite of its fragile figure
how it's still eesome even though it looks wrinkled
how it stays strong and pulchritudinous
walking in the garden felt serendipitious
it felt like walking
inside your existence
and i liked it.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
you are not your grades or your scars
your height or your weight
you are not your face or the color of your hair
you are the person you define yourself to be
you are who you want to be
you are not the opinion of the people around you
you are your soul
be it old or young
you have lived many lives
and this is just the beginning
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
Everyone loves the poems that hurt me the most. It's little wonder that the greatest writers, the ones whose works we lovingly praise, were merely lost, broken fools.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
Where do dreams go when they die?
Do they leave our perception and ascend to the sky?
To fuel our rewards for living as pure?
But that would simply make death the cure.
Perhaps they fall with us down below?
Sinking to the depths of torment as we go.
Looped on repeat, you're faux greatest hits.
Forced to watch your soul crumble to bits.
For some, dreams are the goal of the greater good.
Others dream of evil they'd do if they could.
The polarity of dreams mold our world today.
When things we do turn to things we say.
Nightmares can haunt us, why must dreams resist?
Feeling unwanted even though we insist.
The fate of the future lies in our dreams.
Will they be joyous cried or hallowed screams?
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC