Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Its been a month when I start not talking to you,
I always tell myself,
I will forget you, yes, I can.
Yes I forgot my feelings for you.
But then, I saw that picture again with that person,
I start hating myself,
Why did I still had this feeling?
I feel jealous.
Seeing that picture,
I don't know what to do anymore.
I think my feeling for you will be forever.


You are a really good fisherman,



And I am just but a foolish fish,




                                                       ­                      Preposterously bitten your hook,
                                                    With your bait of feigned love attached to it,

  



                                   Piercing it all the way to my heart,


                  Leaving me wounded with all of those prevaricates I've fell for,


But I don't know why,

                            I still love the feeling,

                                         That you've been jumping in gladness,

                                             That you've finally caught me,



Even though I was hardly breathing,

               'Cause you've taken  me away from the place,

                                  That makes me breathe and gives me joy.


                                 It somehow gives me relief,

                 Seeing the auspicious sun,

Brightly gleaming into my beautiful scales,

Not knowing it was just a start of a baleful Gehenna!




                    I should've known all along that it's just an entice!




                              But I am still blessed,


           'Cause I have manage to escape,

                                While damaging and harming myself in the process,


From the jailhouse that you've locked me in.




                                                      ­From then on,


              You've learned a lesson,


  

And use NET instead.



                       © Earl Jane
                         ♥ E.J.C.S.
Because of you,
I write
And if only you knew
You're there
In every piece of the poems
I write
 Jul 2015 Camron Elliott
Poetria
"A toast to me, myself and I, a glass of sweet solitude."
Just a line from a poem I wrote a while ago. It's been ringing in my head for days so I thought I would shine some light on it, and maybe then it would stop pestering me.
 Jul 2015 Camron Elliott
ally m
the white cottage stood still
in the midst of softly and sparingly
murmuring hues of lavenders and blues.
and the green, my love, faded
little by little to white,
but it remained voiceless.

it was you—
the only soul that quivered.
you walked barefoot, holding mine,
the honeyed wails were your compass,
although the needles weren’t still.
a scream there, the point shifted;
i hope you weren’t looking.

the wind rose when you were close;
the shades quieted,
closed their eyes
in a prayer that you glimpsed
the art of their eyelashes fluttering,
as you once did mine.

did you become unaware
of the violent beats of my soul
in the grasp of your beautiful palm,
when you saw me standing
and waiting for you on the wooden porch?

nothing respired when you stood where i stood.
you ran your fingers through the wet tangles of my hair;
drips of blood slipped by the green veins of yours.
behind your back, your lost friend floated,
his hue, like wry branches, growing back
across his outstretched arms,
leaving behind pink plump lines,
as i had mine tied once upon a time on your bed.

i recognized by the way
the muscles on your back
tensed underneath my fingers
that you knew.
i lost my breath,
trying to feel yours.

“i need you on your bed
in your birthday suit
right this ******* moment,”
your whispered,
and it touched me in places
your hands weren’t
and sank into my bones.
i moaned,
your grip tightened.

you didn’t kiss me.
“yes, daddy.”
i reached the door ****,
your shoulders facing me.

my dearest love,
when i heard the gunshot,
i had only one question screaming within my mind:
who did you love more?

i hope the azure in your eyes
was never weakened by your love.
 Jul 2015 Camron Elliott
vangouhl
and my breathing was shallow
and my rib cage was empty
and where my heart should have been, there was


nothing
Next page