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May 2015 · 368
Sour Taste
Хейли May 2015
Next morning,
I couldn't wait to scrub my tongue in the shower,
last night, woke me up with a sour taste on my tongue.

Her touch wasn't the same.
Our heart raced in different ways.
They skipped off beat, not intone to each other's rhythmic beat.
What we wanted from each other wasn't the same.
I can't say I felt that great,
doing it with her,
without the bother of you in my brain.
I didn't really enjoy her sour taste.

Regardless, of her thanks. I didn't speak to her any welcome.
It was a penniless job, that was soon to be felt.

I rolled over and fell asleep,
mentally beginning to prepare for the guilt felt in my heart,
that my brain was to receive.
It may have been a respectful thank you to me,
but for I felt like it was just a job well done.
She was just a piece of meat.
Intentionally, left unattended for a lion like me to eat.

I woke up the next morning,
unsure of what happen or how it began.
Misfortunately, I was conscious,
during the event enough,
to retrieve what terrible want I had fulfilled,
Without my conscious,
I would never have known,
what happen,
based off the tomorrow's lack of shared emotion
between her words and mine.

Even after, she cried out in her last pleasure.
The 'thank you' will never be enough,
to make up for the mistake that I feel.

In the end,
it wasn't like a couple with a sad loving goodbye,
it was a good job well done.
It was an drunken single night-stand.
Drank empty with a bottle label desire.
Driven by toxic liquor that blur-ified my brain,
and my ability to say no.
But, my guilt will not make up for the pain,
that my unfaithfulness has endowed inside of you.
Nov 2014 · 421
Light Kite
Хейли Nov 2014
Something keeps telling me to stop.
Cease the breeze, calm my knees.
My emotions are let out to quickly by a thin string.

No matter how many times my line gets severed
I seem to just barley catch a hold of it again.

Each time I do not seem to have learned my lesson.
My heart is like a light kite that I can't seem to control.
Jul 2014 · 504
Improperly Unhealthy Haiku
Хейли Jul 2014
It's not about the cigarette;
It's about the smoke.
The smoke is like *** to my throat.
May 2014 · 202
Хейли May 2014
I wish I could make everyone smile just as much as I made you smile tonight. But, maybe that is a bit selfish of me.
May 2014 · 248
Хейли May 2014
I haven't met her yet.
But, from these poems that I write,
and from all the moments I can imagine. I think that she is close by.
And oh how lovely, is she.
May 2014 · 307
Хейли May 2014
The way she walked,
was a soft sway.
Her sway,
reminded me of the beautiful rippled reflection
of a warm summer's sunset.

Whose ripples,
that laid on top of the ocean's surface,
in the distance,
that beauty,
was her.

She always had me m e s m e r i z e d.
And every evening past dusk, that we kissed goodbye,
as I stood alone watching her walk inside
was like  …
watching the sunset.  

Her hair
whenever she decided to give up on letting it fly around her head,
whenever she finally decided to take off her silly hat,
Her hair… was capricious.
And I loved that about her.

I always saw it like this:
When she took her hat off, she was letting go:
releasing herself.
Because deep down,
she truly was wild.

She was like the ocean.
On bright sunny days, she was alive in so many ways.
She danced and chased little kids around the shoreline.
She helped full up the moats of a hundred little sandcastles,
that would end up washing away.
Even though, she knew by day break all those sandcastles would be washed away thanks to the big waves of an early morning storm.
She was like the ocean, especially on those stormy nights.
I have never dealt with a wave as big as her…
She was like the ocean.
A first glance, when you try to look into her,
you can't really see anything.
You can't see all that is there.
But there always was.
There always was something swimming underneath.
You had to just dive in and explore her.
To find and see all the beautiful little things about her,
even in the darkest places -deep down under.
She was my ocean.
She was my sea,
and I just happened to be her lost sailor.
*Her skin smelt like the ocean. And all I wanted was to drown in her.
I haven't met her yet.
But, from these poems that I write,
and from all the moments I imagine. I think that she is close by.
And oh how lovely, she is.
May 2014 · 1.3k
Хейли May 2014
When I think of that word it scares me.
Because it makes me think…
that without it;
Where would society be?

You have to be creative to get an idea?
You have to be creative to think of a new melody,
a new concept,
a new law.

Creativity is everywhere, creativity is imagination.
Creativity is what runs us.
Creativity is endless.
Creativity is art.

Creativity is not you, You are creativity.
Love, learn, and believe it, make a change.
May 2014 · 1.9k
She is my color wheel.
Хейли May 2014
I  need a girl,
who's smile,
I fall into love with so much,
that her smile drives me to capture,
those single moments of her,
in a form of colors
on my easel.
Apr 2014 · 1.0k
Хейли Apr 2014
Detrimental to these planes,
this blade is like a courtesan to these veins. Her love is slow and hard because the pressure is in her hand.
Apr 2014 · 294
Unspoken Melody
Хейли Apr 2014
I touched your skin,
and I had to pray for Heaven's sake.
Your skin was a lullaby written in brail under my fingers tips.
I fell asleep playing your song over and over again.
Apr 2014 · 11.6k
Red handkerchiefs
Хейли Apr 2014
You always looked good in dark suits with golden buttons on your cuff. Those were always a nice touch, to stand side your perfect figurine.
You were everything I once wanted. But now, you really aren't.

I see the rushing of the real truths of you, swell into your own hands, dropping a ball, losing your own special touch of sportsmanship with not much of a fuss. You're letting yourself lose the game.
Just letting ***** of truth squirt out through your veins.

You're losing your grip right out from your own polished finger tips and dripping red of blood.

You constantly try to pull white handkerchiefs of innocence from the wrists of your cuffs. But, those handkerchiefs are all just red...
Don't try and gamble a bad hand if you can't keep up. You never could keep a good bluff.
Mar 2014 · 590
Хейли Mar 2014
Разблюто’ — это когда тебе разбили сердце, и ты после этого очень сильно напился, до тошноты. Вот тогда в организме все разблюто.

I am sorry
But, you stumbled in your lies,
and, you hurt me with goodbye.
And, I am sorry-I cant lie,
your words were more deveined,
back when I told that I can hide,
under these layers of pride.
That I have built up over lives,
of people who have affected me.
In more ways,
than I can describe,
but I can no longer
stand side,
to the words that I prided to never lie of,
Under the blood vessels that rumble
Of empathy and our dalliance
Of words more than humble
through my razbliuto of you.
According to bourgeois reference books on hard-to-translate words, Razbliuto is suppose to be Russian, and it means the feeling of a person has for someone he or she once loved but no longer feels the same way about. (UPDATE: I double checked the definition and this word does not exist. But, I'm still keeping this poem.)
Mar 2014 · 735
Хейли Mar 2014
I often ponder on why, there are so many explicit days that encounter my way.
Feb 2014 · 212
Your Seasons
Хейли Feb 2014
At first, you loved me like spring,
and you lingered like winter.
But, then you start to tease like fall,
and you end up running like summer.

Just tell me why your feelings feel like the change of seasons?
Jan 2014 · 523
Хейли Jan 2014
I bemuse how long it takes myself to exhale your name
out in cigarette smoke.

Your name is like a secret that I will not
force through my vocal cords.

I will not say it any other time.
for the fact that your name
is just as toxic as chemicals that I cradle in my lungs.  
I silently let go of your name, and a simple little memory of you
each time I let the smoke escape from my chest,
and over my lips as I breathe out.

I do not know if it is the smoke
or the hot air that I let out,
to be me letting go of your name.

I fear that the longer it takes me to release the smoke,
is of how much I really miss saying your name out loud.

I am confused on whether
it is the length me slowly letting go of your name,
or if it is just the warm carbon dioxide of my breath.
Jan 2014 · 4.6k
Хейли Jan 2014
You stayed in my life the same amount of time,

that this snowflake stayed in my hand,

until I watched the both of you slowly melt away.

And there was nothing I could do to,
to stop you.
Jan 2014 · 380
Хейли Jan 2014
They tell you that,
there are plenty of other fish in the sea.
But, you tell them,
that I am your ocean.
But, you tell me,
that you're afraid that you are drowning.
Well then, Baby,
you should not be swimming in me.
Jan 2014 · 1.1k
Хейли Jan 2014
I apologize,
but the liquid ran clear,
as it lacked the taste of beer.
I turned the bottle's end into the air,
and held it until I couldn't bare.
My mouth was marinated in liquor, my dear.
My tongue was saturated in Fireball.

Ever since, that unfaithful night,
my tongue must feel like a flame of dishonesty
against your flowering rosebud;
since, it drunkenly 'ate' up
it's own spoken promise in faithfulness.

For now, it lays in a bath full of salvia coded guilt with
forgiveness standing at the tip;
in it's want to lovingly still explore you.
Jan 2014 · 1.3k
The Reading Rosebud
Хейли Jan 2014
What if the walls of your rosebud,
can read the bumps of my tastebuds,
as if they were brail,
and you discover all the lies
that it once formed into sound?
How truthful would my tastebuds feel,
if it headliner in the paper always read,
"I am changed" in the daily news?
Jan 2014 · 2.9k
Хейли Jan 2014
Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt
and a locksmith;

To crack you open without a key.

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this locksmith;
The bitter sweet symphony of just letting things be,
after letting you out to see the world beneath your feet,
I wanted to be the one to set you free.
Only, that wasn't good enough to me…

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt;
and with a single pull of a kiss,
lock you up inside of me,
so you could never leave me.

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt
and a locksmith.
Jan 2014 · 1.2k
my inner bother.
Хейли Jan 2014
I don't want to sound desperate or even slightly pessimistic,
pardon me, or pardon my ways,
maybe I've been a bit pampered, over the time that was once gave.
i'm used to the songs, and poems, the lyrical romance,
that… meaningful wordy romance.
the kind that breezes right under your skin, and dances along to the rhythm within.
I want more.

pardon me, I don't want to sound desperate or even slightly pessimistic,
i want the phone calls that are deemed restless.
i want photos that capture my words,
that make me speechless,
that make my brain curve.
for, I've been through it all.
i've droven into love and back.
i know all of the tricks and all of the facts.
so i do not expect much,
not even a bit.
i just kinda wish it was more than just...

pardon me, I don't want to sound desperate or even slightly pessimistic,*
but, I want more.

More then just *this
Jan 2014 · 1.3k
The Damsel
Хейли Jan 2014
I can not stumble for this damsel.
Philanthropy seldom works out for I.
The damsel know's my interest, and it's level to be rather prime.
Which makes it hard to cop-out with out being the bad guy.
Maybe it is best, to avoid my damsel's ground.
I must justify these days...
let them grow a hefty beard,
so I can pop one off and say I've had a couple of relaxing beers.
Can I do it though?
Can I leave?
Or am I just too afraid of it just being me?
Should I just fool around, the same the damsel fools me?
Perhaps, I should flee and leave the damsel to breathe.

*Why would a damsel like her, want a damsel like me?
Dec 2013 · 243
Хейли Dec 2013
I know when I've spent too much time alone,

when I can smoke six cigarettes in a row.

And write one-hundered poems about how I froze,

when I caught my first sight of **you.
Dec 2013 · 288
You Are My Atomic Number 8.
Хейли Dec 2013
Y o u r   a p p e l l a ti o n   i s   t h e   b i t t e r - s  w e et   c a r b o n   d i o x i d e
t h a t   s n e a k s   o u t ,  
a n d   o v e r   m y   l i p s .

Y o u   a r e   t h e   m o s t   m e l l i f l u o u s   m i x t u r e   o f   o x y g e n   a n d   n i t r o g e n ,
t h a t   h a s   e v e r   p e n e t r a t e d   m y   l u n g s .  

A s   I   m u r m u r   y o u r   t i t l e ,
t h a t   l o n e s o m e   l o c u t i o n   i s  r e l e a s e d   f r o m   m y   c o r e ,
y o u   a r e   r e l e a s e d   f r o m   m y   l u n g s .

I   m i s l a y   b r e a t h   o f   y o u   f o r   an   i n s t a n t .  

F o r   w h e n   I   i n h a l e ,   o n c e   m o r e ,  
y o u r   e p i t h e t   c o m e s   r u s h i n g   b a c k
  i n t o   m e .

S l i p p i n g   i n t o   m y   m o u t h ,   a n d   d o w n   m y   t h r o a t …

Y o u   a r e   i n h a l e d ,
b y   e v e r y   s i n g l e   b r e a t h ,
t h a t   I   t a k e .  

**Y o u   a r e   t h e   o x y g e n   t h a t   k e e p s   m e   a l i v e ,
y o u   a r e   t h e   b r e a t h   t h a t   m a k e s   n o   m i s t a k e s  .
Dec 2013 · 279
Siding with goodbye
Хейли Dec 2013
I* t u r n  t o m y
a  n  d   c  l  o  s  e   m  y   e  y  e  s


T o n i g h t ,  *I
                  w i l l
                         r u n
                               f r o m
                                        t h i s

­                                                                 ­                                                                **n   i   g   h   t   m   a   r   e  .
Dec 2013 · 802
Leave It Up To Me
Хейли Dec 2013
"I was the one with the world at my feet…"
Flustered in the moment,
I gathered up my bag and keys.
Screaming back to her, "You don't control me"!
Storming out the door.
Suddenly, in the mid-night breeze, there it was staring back at me.
A silhouette of a dark figurine.
Standing in that doorway, not sure of what I may see.
All I know is that it's standing directly across from me.
I close, my eyes and count to three...

Next thing I know, I see nothing more than the light post blinding me.
I look to both of my sides,
and continue on my way,
I am not sure where this journey may lay.
But, I know that it's up to me,
It's up to me …
to figure out this
… journey.

So, I bare my skin,
And I count my sins,
And I close my eyes
And I take it in.

"What it is and where it stops nobody knows"
I was born into a, *
'life that I never chose'.

I stumbled,
and I fled,
I keep running forward ahead.
Until, I hit a road with a million lights strung on a thread.
The road,
that was a 'road'
was more like a bridge.
That ran on forever, if you were to ever ask my legs.
But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep.

Here I am running,
Keeping my thoughts with me..
"What the hell am I suppose to do?
Who am I suppose to be?"

Passing each light,
counting up to five.
The lights strung on,
straight into the night,
lighting up the bridge without a fight.
I followed them, and I ditched the time.

The bridge was vacant, and while being eager to provide,
for any car that was to go by.
But, the bridge was not given the chance to thrive.


I keep going though my legs wish to seep…  
out from underneath of me.
I wanna leave but the world won't let me go

That's when I stopped,
And had to know…
When I saw that erie glow…

If I was seeing things,
or if it wasn't a show,

"Got us a battle…"
When I saw the glow…
of that same figurine.
Realizing this time...
that it was just a dark shadow of me.

Turning slowly to me,
the dark part of me decided
to scream,
a bunch of ****** madness is all that it seemed.
My ears could not handle this straining melody.
I hunch over and began to pled,
"*******, STOP. I beg of me!"
My shadow froze, beginning to float towards me…

"When the day has come,
That I've lost my way around
And the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground
When the sky turns gray,
And everything is screaming
I will reach inside
Just to find my heart is beating"

I don't know what I was suppose to propose,
when my shadow had finally reached to my toes.
But, I looked up and, saw it so…
The depression inside her, was noticeable…  
I realized, she was not my emotional foe.

We are in this together.
But, who would have known?
That she, is me, on her own journey to a throne.
Floating through her own darkness of the unknown.

"When the hour is nigh
And hopelessness is sinking in
And the wolves all cry
To fill the night with hollering
When your eyes are red
And emptiness is all you know
With the darkness fed"
'I will be my own scarecrow'

I took my own hand, and I let myself know.
That we are to find a way together, on our travels alone.
I looked up to the stars, and let it be known:

That, "what it is and where it stops nobody knows.
Even though, I was the one with the world at my feet,
I was still given a life that I never chose.
Even when the world won't let me go.
So when the day has come,
that I've lost my way around,
and the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground,
when the sky turns gray
and everything is screaming.
I will reach inside just to find my heart is beating.
Because I know I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep.
So when the hours is nigh,
and hopelessness is sinking in,
and the wolves all cry,
To fill the night with hollering,
When your eyes are red,
And emptiness is all you know
with the darkness fed,
I will be my own scarecrow.
I've got myself a battle."

That I know I can defeat.
Whispering quietly, I tell it to myself *
"just leave it up to me".
I wanted to create a poetic story based on two songs that really inspired me to even begin this poem. Alongside with one of my favorite poems "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost, I wanted to challenge myself by combining the three of these pieces and incorporating them as one. For whom that are reading, if you notice throughout the poem the bolded and italized quotes are place through out the poem, symbolizing thoughts that the character is realizing throughout her journey. To bring her thoughts together as one in the end. I tried to make be shown that she was admitting her fate, her life, her new destiny in life.
This has become my result, it is one of my favorites that I have done.
Blindness By: Metric
Bleeding Out By: Imagine Dragons
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening By: Robert Frost
Dec 2013 · 452
Хейли Dec 2013
We don't know it yet.
But, together we are like one toxic vial mislabeled,
As it sits on a shaky shelve,
with a hundred of other vials labeled ....
Dec 2013 · 469
Хейли Dec 2013
From every strand on your head,
to every hair on your unshaven knees.
I wish to kiss each and every one of your heartbeats.
So, every cell that runs through your veins,
will feel my love in every way.
Let me in…
inside of you.
Allow me to become fluid with you.
This is published because for now... this is done. I will pick up on it later. I just want this out there; but I'm not sure about my urge behind my reasoning why.
Dec 2013 · 613
Quiet Castle
Хейли Dec 2013
I would rather take the wicked witch,
than live in this castle alone.
Speaking on the absence of my recently moved out roommate, who all-in-all was a witch to me. But, I still enjoyed her despicable presence.
Dec 2013 · 333
Emotional At Bay
Хейли Dec 2013
In that first moment, I should have never let you in.
Now, my emotions have been pulled thin.
With my shell emaciated, my feelings melt into my skin.
My mind starts off to wander away, I lose all sight of any beauty within a day.
I sulk and heave…. my nights away.
I knew my guard should have never be set astray.
So, as long as you're around...
I don't think I'll ever be left at bay.
Based off an emotional Cancerian.
Dec 2013 · 684
Хейли Dec 2013
I used to often explore the streets at night,
playing on the painted lines that tells the drivers, everything from wrong to right.  
Always wondering….
Always questioning,
'Why not a soul in sight?'  
Each evening is beautiful …
and each evening is quite nice.
The evening, even stays quiet til' about quarter of five.

Which is just enough time to explore your mind.
To get lost in your thoughts,
and lose any sense of time.

Questioning every ounce of the world,
on every drop of a dime.
I held away my questions,
until I came to the lines.
And then,
I would explore every possibility inside my mind.

I spent enough time playing on those lines to lose my mind…
and all sense of time…

Usually, after about five o'l five,
I'd see the glimpse of a light,
from a car go rushing by,
and I would know it was time to say goodbye,
to myself playing on those lines.

But, the last time I recall,
playing on those lines...
It was quarter until nine,
and I was still in the middle of the street,
dancing on the lines.

When one morning,
a car did not notice me,
and that was the last time I messed around on those lines.

You know…
deep down in my head,
I've known for quite sometime..
that I should not gambol my life on those lines..
But, I was lost,
and I kept going…
and I kept…
I losing my mind.

It only takes one thought to drown, and to lose all sense of your time.
It's been a long time since I've written something like this, so please, tear it apart, rip it into shreds and light it up on fire. I need my ability to be torn apart to break away from my old habits.

— The End —