Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Aug 13 Cheyenne
Dark soul
Bite
  marks
are
   love
notes
   written
in
   flesh ...
So
   let
me
   bite
you
   hard
and
   make
you
  moan .
  Aug 13 Cheyenne
Lostling
The days of truth or dare
Sparked then faded
Into smoke

Daily
Turned to scarcely
And helplessly
I watched you flicker

Things were just getting better
You came back!
Then disappeared
All together

Now
I watch the suicide numbers
Rise
And fear that you’re one of them

I never wished you happy birthday
That Sunday
Like I promised I would
Did I?
Her gmail and patron page are both gone.
  Aug 11 Cheyenne
Her
the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r
  Aug 11 Cheyenne
Francie Lynch
If
If you were a book,
I'd read you again.

If you were a ride,
I'd wait in line.

If you were my dream,
I'd never awaken.

If you were a star,
I'd never look down.

If you were a flower,
I'd never look up.

If you were mine,
I don't know what I'd do;
But I'd do it.
  Aug 11 Cheyenne
Vale Luna
(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.
Forward: from the victims perspective.
Backward: from the murderers perspective.

This TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE
  Aug 11 Cheyenne
Irate Watcher
I want to be available
to the people who love me.
I want to be there
emotionally, physically, financially.
I want to be their shoulder
their crutch, their solace.
The person who does not drop anything.
I want to give the feeling
of lightness to every being walking this earth.
Every human, creature, and plant
as they grow up fast.
I want to be nutrition,
a steadfast superhuman
so unfazed, so cool-headed.

It infuriates me
that I'm not this person.
It should be so easy to give.
If I just get my **** together,
I've repeated on and off again
the last five years.
But somehow, I always manage
to waste enough time
to get there,
but late.
When I have nothing
left, a hollow person
someone gave too
many tries.

Still, the people I love
tell me I'm wise,
an angel body.
Like they must justify,
who I am,
the imposter
the transient,
always planning,
for when she can
run away again.
  Aug 11 Cheyenne
Jude
I despise myself for not being someone you could love.
Next page