Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Apr 2014 · 852
Adam
Sail Away Apr 2014
I think I might love you.
I know I love you
but I might actually love you.

Which is odd.
You see
I saw you in my future as my best man.
My man of honor.

Only now I think
You might as well be the groom.

I want to take our conversations
to document every word
and tell the world.
look at us

We are brilliant
unscripted perfection
harmonized chaos

This terrifies me.
my emotions run wild.

So please.
If you love me.
I know you do.
If you really love me.

I beg you, tell me first.
so I don't play the fool.

I can see you.
In a tuxedo.
There, right there
by the altar
grinning
those gentle eyes
Beautiful

Will you take my hand?
*or catch the bouquet?
In honor of my dearest and best friend, Kyle.
Apr 2014 · 770
Music
Sail Away Apr 2014
Look up at the sky
or ceiling
block out the world
escape for a minute

or four

Let the music fills your lungs
expel the negative
Take in the melody
let it wash over you

reborn

Let the beat of drums replace your mortal heartbeat
suddenly you are immortal
for a minute

or four

Let it be the faucet for anger
drain the sadness
until only the sweet symphony of notes is heard

pound out your pain
in a song
that was once too angry for your taste
but perfect now

and sometimes
it expresses the emotion
you could not put to words
It takes your breath away
the way the lyrics hit the target
bulls-eye every time

Let the world reside
as you join the chorus line
Darling
*you are going to be fine.
Apr 2014 · 4.1k
Ashes to Ashes
Sail Away Apr 2014
I think that maybe
I might start smoking.

It will **** you
they'll say

Lips locked with death.
I draw in the smoke
dancing through black
desperate lungs.

A disgusting habit
they'll tell me.

But they have it all wrong.
It's not a habit.
It's a conscious decision.
A slow suicide.

It will **** you
they will tell me.

The flicking of ashes to the ground.
rubbing out of dying
glowing embers.

That's the point
I'll reply.
Disclaimer: I am not a smoker nor am I suicidal. This is a perspective poem of the subconscious desire to die behind the conscious decision to start smoking.

— The End —