All things ancient are once born young.
All things secret are shared by tongue.
All things hatred are worn with love.
All things whispered are sung by doves.
All things stone always come undone.
the inspiration for this poem primarily came from the thought i had, that all things like ancient or old or archaic were once young, smart words out of the mouths of the loud. brand new and original, and here we are, writing about them, like they're old news or yesterdays column.
suddenly my fingers have decided to dance across my keyboard
let them form what they may
you, you pretty boy
i've been avoiding writing this and making it out to you
as if you were a treasure i'd found in a cave or cove that i couldn't bare to lose
as if you'd brought me so much fortune and happiness
but really you were more of a leech
not letting me go and keeping me within your sights
giving me an inch, a speck of your attention, a sliver of you
you kept me up at night
the way you'd run across the mind
never leaving but instead made yourself too comfortable
interjecting when anyone else thought of coming into the palace you'd built for yourself
i was crazy about you
despite you being a walking log of inconsistencies and disappointments with your random texts and acts of closeness
despite you hurting me so much with your constant returns and empty sentences because you've never had enough to say
still i just couldn't bring myself to say or even think anything negative about you.
i wanted to keep my faith in you, that you'd let me in the murky waters you'd surrounded yourself with.
even now there's still this atomic size of hope i've kept locked away for you
for so long i wanted to remain mature, the bigger person, the adult
but i'm only 17
so, in that case
******* and *******.
empty bottles everywhere
awkward glances and longing stares
you’ve caught my eye, i can’t look away
makes me want to know your name
but i carry on sipping my drink
and try to dance with the music in sync
desperately trying to look cool
and pretending I haven’t noticed you
There are approximately 470,000 words in the English language
4 syllables in “Hey, How are you?”
9 letters in “Beautiful”
3 words in “I love you”
I can’t find a single thing to say
When your smile accidentally makes my day.
I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille
You cannot blame me
For when your stomach folds
If you keep coming
To my forlorn tree,
Not when the poor man's fruit-bearing bush
Is just the other way
Within the same, short walking distance
Everyday I live,
Is another day away from your smile.
Hidden, shy, sly in style-
Masquerading behind silk and gold,
Milk and honey.
The clouds jealous,
Of the softness in your eyes,
Deep pools of cautious curiosity-
Bright but sharp in disguise.
Simple elegance doesn’t do you grace,
Simple potency doesn't do you measure.
But I hope to one day owe to you this pleasure.
I should mention that she likes to dress up as a princess, so I tried to go with that whole idea of regality.