Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
there's this girl, she lights up my world.
her glow illuminates what we were, what we are, and what I want us to be

and it shines for miles and miles.

there's this girl, she lights up my world.
but haven't you heard?

with one cold breath

**she blew out the candle.
Here I am, as real as stone,
I am no dream, feel my flesh and bone.
In these words I’ll present my honesty
and tonight you’ll give me only silence.
You’re the missing puzzle piece, and the best of me,
but pushing the piece down only creates defiance.

Here I am, this is no test,
I am no ghost feel the beat from my chest.
In these words I’ll present all I want to say
but can never untie my tongue,
You’re the sun, the moon, the night and the day,
my oxygen to each empty, shrunken lung.

Listen to me, I’m terrible at declarations,
but I’m honest to a fault and love to confess.
I’ll be detailing with no abbreviations
everything you wish to know and nothing less.
The clock has stopped, maybe it’s hand is broken,
or perhaps the batteries just finally ran dry.
But it’s now time out, something’s need to be spoken
the who, when, what, how and most of all the why.

I’ll meet your eyes
and tell you only the truth,
Love, you light my morning skies
and bring me back to my youth.
My dreams are slaves to you
but sleep’s been slipping through my fingers,
just please tell me what to do
cause this devotion only lingers.

No silver medal, no second string,
I was tired of rotting on the bench.
Foot’s on the pedal, I’m in the ring,
my thirst’s begging for quench.
I’m a light weight champion with my eyes on the prize
even knocked out I’ll be back again,
are you really that surprised?

I’ll meet your eyes
and give you all you want from me,
Love, you light my morning skies
and make me who I’m meant to be.
Our skin will mesh in place
like we were made to combine,
and each inch my fingers trace
is the definition of divine;
I am yours and you are mine.

You might be my lightbringer
as you always banish the dark,
palm to palm, finger meets finger,
softness can still leave a mark.
You light my morning skies
you are the controller of the sun,
pushing me to awake and rise
and giving strength to get things done.
I hope Elvis wouldn’t be ****** at me for stealing a beautiful line. Who knows.
I’ve had a rough night.
I’ve had a rough decade.
To clear my head I decided to go for a drive,
the cold autumn air, the dark sky, the vacant streets and the glow of the traffic lights can sometimes heal.
Not tonight.
The cold air chilled me to the bone,
the dark sky is without a single star,
the vacant streets create an atmosphere of being on another world; completely desolate, utterly isolated.
The traffic lights are all red, like the anger that burns inside me.
I shouldn’t have gotten in my car tonight.
I have a single headlight, my passenger side burnt out sometime last week.
These things bother me more than they should.

I drove to my old home, where I spent twenty three years of my life.
It’s gone and I knew it would be, they started the demolition in spring shortly after I left it, during one of our coldest winters yet.
But now, a house is being constructed on the lot.
Where once stood a small, modest, cottage looking home has been turned into only a gigantic skeleton of what will be a modern house that holds no unique characteristics.
It will blend in with every other house on the street.
Notice how I say house, not home.
They built right to the hedge, Jesus, they didn’t even leave room for a yard or driveway.
Besides all that, I can only think
“my mother’s soul left her body on this land.”
The same land they’ve covered.
Her temporary bedroom when she turned palliative will probably be their living room, or maybe bathroom.
Whoever lives in this house won’t know that the most wonderful mother in this world died where their house is standing.
They won’t know it was a Christmas morning, and the last thing I ever heard from her mouth was “your arms are getting strong” after helping her to her OMS supplied hospital bed.
These things bother me more than they should.

I usually drive fast and play my music loud,
tonight I’m driving fast to get anywhere but where I am,
tonight I’m playing my music loud to drown out my sobs.
The kind of sobs that hit your body like aggressive shocks.
I hate crying, I despise sobbing.
I don’t get embarrassed, but I’m mortified by my own vulnerability even though I’m alone.
I even fake a laugh and shake my head.
Pretend it’s nothing, and that I’m an idiot, that “that’s just life” and so forth.
These things bother me more than they should.

When you lose the only home you’ve ever known,
are you destined to be transient eternally?
Is it possible to find someone who will love every part of you,
and love you enough to actually show it?
But most importantly,
does it ever stop hurting,
even for a ******* second?
Just spewing out the cold and dark feelings that are devouring me right now. Sorry for the angst.
All work, no play and neon screens
menial tasks even coat my dreams.
Overboard in bored and a silent phone,
oh no, I think I’ve evolved to drone.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, a life of drought.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
For lady dollar; I can’t bear her,
as the riches are even rarer.

I’ve become a machine, to crush numbers
with no log off for needed slumbers.
Now my brain’s racing, a million miles per hour,
oh no, I think I’ve gained A.I’s power.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, now what life is about.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
No sudden movements; don’t want to scare her,
she’s updating with no carer.

Learning binary,
a breathing library,
processing slowly
but still a finery.

I forgot what my hands were for
they used to write all that I adore.
Now fingertips type, each key a shot,
oh no, I think I’ve grown into a robot.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, no one hears me shout.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
Pure absorption; a simple stare,
life’s equation could be fairer.

Learning binary,
a breathing library,
walking geometry
complete machinery.
 Oct 2018 Bobby Dodds
avery
trace me
 Oct 2018 Bobby Dodds
avery
trace the outline of my being

trace my joys and my sorrows
trace my fear of the morrows

trace the way I sit still when you notice me

draw my feeling
draw my love

trace the passion I'm ashamed of

trace me
I played with rhyme little in this one, I don't know if I did well or not. It's just a crush
 Oct 2018 Bobby Dodds
avery
It's too early for the past
music takes forever
too bad it's not last
ions and molecules I didn't ask
43 feet above the floor
my ferris wheel of a task
Je n'aime tu
puis mange parce-que j'ai faim
Can we move to creative writing?
public static void main(String [] args )
public String want;
private boolean love?;
 Oct 2018 Bobby Dodds
avery
a claw scratches at my throat
I'm trying to speak but it won't go
they're all staring blankly at me
"I don't know" I quivered.
"How does the theme of belonging relate to my life?"
my heart races
my fist clenches
my chest flexes
my fingers tingle
they are all staring at me
I die
 Oct 2018 Bobby Dodds
avery
math?
 Oct 2018 Bobby Dodds
avery
why am I
trying to finD
the sin Of
a point iN
the uniT circle
wheN i could be
Eating my lunch
in thE hallway
with frienDs i dont have
and Munching sounds better
thAn all of this ****
That they tell us we need
in stupid matH class
I
D
O
N
T
N
E
E
D
M
A
T
H
 Oct 2018 Bobby Dodds
julianna
Fall
 Oct 2018 Bobby Dodds
julianna
It’s a pit in my stomach,
Feeling nostalgic
For weather changes
And chills.
The music matches
The empathetic nausea
Inside,
But I don’t mind it
It feels kind of good.
I get very nostalgic during season changes, especially getting closer to the colder seasons. It’s a mixture between pure nervousness and nostalgia... the epitome of mixed feelings.
Next page