Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dev Mar 3
Out of the woodwork
Creeps your eyes
Tiptoeing past my walls
And slipping through the
Smallest cracks in my defense.

I haven't thought of you in months
And because of it,
My hair shines golden
My skin glows serenely
And I look healthy.

But now, I am dreaming of you
Pinching the extra skin on myself
In order to love you
I am changing my hair
In order to show you
I am withholding love to myself
In order to please you
I am drowning myself
In order to satisfy your thirst

I am dreaming of you
In all the colours I'd love to be
But never could

I'm thinking of you
As I brush my teeth, as I don't eat, as I ignore my life, as I sleep, as I cry, as I breathe
I am obsessed
If I gave up everything
If I lost everything
For you

Would you be here?
Would I be happy?

These are questions I know I should ask but I'm too afraid

Too afraid to know that
I'm never going to be you
  Mar 3 Dev
Such deviated courses
This poetic passion seeks
Driven by forces
From nature to beast
Tempered and nurtured
From unleavened to yeast
Bought and then sold
Judas to Priest

To and fro
The heart we know
Off the beaten path  
With soul in toll
Fro and to
Right and then left
Any which way
More or less...

When we finally find
Our fostered ways
It's always prime time
For another maze...
Traveler Tim
Dev Mar 3
when you awake
you look at me
and ask me how I slept
And I would tell you
if not for the fact
that it was you,
of who I dreamt
and in the middle of the night
within the witching hour
i wake and see you in your dreams
with some other ordinary flower
Dev Mar 3
You're whipping me like cream,
adding sugar to your taste
Piling me on top of cupcakes,
Trying to save your own face.

If you didn't want sour,
why would you choose a lemon?
If you wanted something sweet,
why did you choose me?

You'll ***** an egg, and shake your head,
misunderstanding once again.
Claiming that I'm wrong,
And that it's something I've imagined.

But if you really like me,
then tell all your friends
That I'm no whipped cream sundae,
more a sour patch kid.
Dev Mar 2
You once asked me if I could ever describe you in four words, what they would be.
I finally figured it out.
"control c, control v"
i know letters aren't words but ohhhhh weelllll (:
Dev Mar 2
Doubting all my reasons,
changing like the seasons
it's cliché I know.
I don't want to rhyme,
but I'm running out of time.
And my fuse is getting short.
I'm about to blow.
And I assure you,
I'm not trying to be
a walking talking cliché,
but it's not my fault!!!
Personally, I blame my parents.
Next page