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 Jun 2019 benedictpiper
Katinka
You
the one with messy brown hair
brown eyes
with you birthmark over the left side of your face.
You who left me crying.
You who made me believe in love for the first time.
You who stole my first kiss
first time
first.

You
with your straight blonde hair
blue eyes
and that stupid smirk
You who left me broken
You who showed me a new way of living
You who left me being second choice
second best
second.

You
with your dark blonde hair
hazel eyes
you with your beautiful hands
You who left me angry
You who showed me a different way of love
You who went with me on my third concert
third love
third.

You
with your curly brown hair
hazel eyes
with your cute braces you never liked
You who left me questioning
You who showed how hard love can be
You who decided I wasn´t worth it
You never happend
We never did.

I
with wavy dark brown hair
hazel eyes
with freckles on my face

I who loved everyone of you
but still couldnt forget you,
number two

I who loved everyone of you
but you left me wanting more,
number four

I who loved everyone of you
was being loved.
but not anymore.
Usally I write my poems on paper first, and then I will reread them and think about them, may make some changes and then upload them here. But in this very second I am just so full of emotion that I want to write and I want it to be honest so no rereading or correcting. Just me.
“I dont know”
was my response
when you asked me if
I still love you

the world stopped
for the both of us
as I wondered on the thought
of me, being selfish
or being true
and yours upon the
realization that
maybe, just maybe
my love for you
is fleeting

neither of us was speaking
and the silence echoed
through the depths of my head
and you uttered
‘oh’

that moment, I knew
that you gave up
on me, and my inner
indecisiveness

I crumbled upon
the guilt of telling you
those words, so instead
I let my tongue do
the talking and said
'maybe'

cause it was never hard to say

but it is always hard to face

the reality of being responsible
to someone

as if I have to breathe
through somebody’s pair of lungs
and scratch the loneliness
with someone else’s fingers

we parted
I changed numbers

cause I had to stay afloat
on the clouds of solitude
free from attachments.
I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.
To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
apart.
 Jan 2019 benedictpiper
Wanderer
Is it the words whispered
in secret corridors
i love you

are they proclaimed boldly
from roof tops
I LOVE YOU

Or maybe love
sounds like laughter
giggles shared only between two

what if love has no noise
its beauty is similar to a sunset
seen and felt
but never heard
 Jan 2019 benedictpiper
Wanderer
Artists are often
broken people
using the fragments of themselves
to create something new
and although
being healed
feels so complete
sometimes i want to be broken again
sometimes i want open wounds
so i can use the blood
to paint sunsets
so i can use the torn off pieces of skin as a canvas
so i can carve
masterpieces with the jagged bones left behind
but I can't bring myself to break my own heart in the name of Art
 Jan 2019 benedictpiper
Jenny
Noir
 Jan 2019 benedictpiper
Jenny
the electricity runs through our veins
and past the street signs we rumble by
in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit,
the roof of the car is the noir sky above
and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces
the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips
the sound of the sky collapsing
echoes the flashes that streak the sky,
the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness
(as if god were wearing light up sketchers)
the lacy brallette that wears me
gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car
the velvet pants that ripple with the wind
drink up the nighttime rain
and the rare headlights race past us,
heading into homes and hearts
the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts
so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity
the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes
now streams down my face.
on a two way street,
we drive down the middle
unafraid in the face of direct dangers
so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers
and instead highly exhilarated
from the street signs we drive by
too fast to read the blocky lettering
the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them
the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window,
still smothering slightly.
i can still taste the smoke on your lips
and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear
and as the wind objects and inhales
unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip
the tunnel rushes towards us,
and we both hold our breaths,
as if breathing would contaminate us.
the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow
and for once, i see you for who you are
a boy too buzzed to feel
a kid who only felt "sort of"
a person who couldn't heal
and a lover who could never give love
about a boy who was my living teenage dream // nothing scarier than finding a broken loveless boy who makes you the same
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