Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Right now you are a tulip bud before spring,
And I know you might never bloom,
but I hope you do.
I can count your words.
the ones that shine,
on my fingers.
But I see you reaching for the sun,
growing.
So I will nurture this little hope,
the one I hide in my chest,
that one day, I will have more memories of your support,
than your homophobia
the scent of the flame
a type of beauty existing in pain
An aching for the feel of a hand in mine,
as if the whole world felt your tears like rain,
an explosion of human understanding,
existing within a single vein.
Anger is my friend,
but she is just a mask,
A storm erupting to save face,
and hide the heartbreak,
the grief.
Why couldn't you love me?
I'm your daughter
How have you failed something so essential?
do you even see me crying?
People say to live every day like it was your last,
but they call you impulsive when you do.
I used to wish id die of cancer,
so I could call you,
see you again,
Cause who would say no to a dying 17-year-old in love?
And I'd still rather have 2 weeks to live spent with you,
than a whole life without you.
My type is unattainable women,
and arrogant men.
Sometimes it makes me wonder,
if that counts as self harm
or  maybe it's just God's cruel joke
I always seem to be the punch line...
And I dreamed I met you at an airport,
History stretching between us,
And you were teasing and coy,
Like you knew who I was,
But it was our first meeting.
Maybe we met like that in the next life, or the past.
Maybe this was always meant to be,
But in the dream I was so sure I would wake up next to you,
I don't know what this means for me
do you ever cry about me?
and if so,
do you think that sometimes,
we cry together?
Next page