Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Feb 2018 Brilly
Jen Snow
 Feb 2018 Brilly
Jen Snow
Freud says tattoos
The Manifestation
Of a

Every point
Separate pain

It took
And a

To complete
Of my

And half a million perforations

To convert
Into something




To finally
Let go
Of the past
i would do anything
to have your lips stutter my name
let your words grasp my hand
watch your eyes search for mine.

to wait for you is impossible yet divine
when we exist in places
so far from where we are destined.

we are parallel lines

i would do anything
for us to be a painting instead
i'd color you in hues of unrequited love
and put us on a frame
i'll give it to you and say

'keep it. keep us. keep me'


'because we are so much more than just parallel lines'
finally found the inspiration to write again. i believe sorrow brings out the poet in everyone.
 Feb 2018 Brilly
Jay D
The breath that comes from your lungs.
The saliva on your lips.
The taste of your soul,
They all meet the passion on my tongue.
And the thick aroma of our uniting mouths can be smelled cities away.
The smell is caught by young lovers,
Lovers in trees, sharing a first kiss
And it smells like the love of home
The love of kissing a scraped knee
Of holding her hand on the way to class
Of his *** thrusting into your mind...
Making you..
The kind of crazy people only dream of,
The "Movie" kinda crazy
The "Impossible" crazy
The "If only this moment would never end.." ...
But I have questions when I'm with you,
And you answer them all before I ask...
With the breath of your lungs
The saliva on your lips
and the taste
of Your soul.
 Feb 2018 Brilly
you will never be forgotten.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.
 Feb 2018 Brilly
oh me oh my
They ask me if I still love you.

I blush, grin and say;

of course.


Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue,

but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea.

I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey.

I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance,

and the thunder rumbles from your irises,

and I hear it pound in the back of my mind.

I wonder if you knew.

I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while,

while you look at her.

My throat corrodes with bile.

She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents,

and I shrug.

What am I supposed to say?

I know you think about her.

Night and day.

The hardest part,

is a generic, old saying.

If you love them,

you let them go.

If they love you enough to stay,

or to come back,

you never let go.

But you haven't come back.
EDIT: Wow. Never expected this to blow up as big as it did. I thank you all so much!
EDIT: 2/15/14
i would say i never loved you, but that is a lie.
they say that your *first* love makes *you realize*, your first *love* wasnt really your first.
i pray for the day this happens.
*getting over you was the best thing i ever did.
and i did it for myself.*
so, one last:
EDIT: 9/14/14
i still hate you.
and you don't deserve her.
EDIT:   12/01/14
im sorry. you still arent
the same person
and neither is she.
but we all grow up.

I was going through my bookmarks
on my old computer and found my old writings.
I just wanted to update this one last time to say things are better,
things are good. Thanks again for all the likes and comments.
 Feb 2018 Brilly
George Arkley
They ask me what I see,
What I see when I'm dreaming,
What I see when I'm listening,
What I see when I'm writing,
But I don't see; I understand,

I understand how minds work,
I understand how hearts work,
I understand how my world works,
But I don't understand them.

Why can't people accept it?
Why do they need to know why?
Why do they want to know?
But they don't want to know why; they want to know what.

If I see their futures,
If I see the dead,
If I see words before me,
But I don't see; I understand.

So when they ask, what do I see in you?
I don't reply. I smile,
Because when I dream,
And I listen,
And I write,
You know what I see?
What I've always seen:

— The End —