Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2017 Maxine
WCA
For you.
 Jul 2017 Maxine
WCA
I wrote this for you a long time ago on a coffee stained napkin, after you left me, full of love, lingering in a cafe.

"For you, in all your follies and faults and the way they make you so perfect for me.
For you, in the moments that linger in the vehemently insignificant corners and corridors of things, as if drifted of their own grandure.
For you, for the words that spill to the floor and the brilliant way you understand the deafening silence that follows.
For you, for your supernovas and clever shades, for your daylight smiles and nighttime skins.
For you, for your familiarity and the impossible truths that stand as martyrs to say that I have loved you before.
For you, despite the treachery and quiet sinister fun of the world.
For you, for making me so terribly scared of dying."
Yet here I am, in your wake, so full of so many thoughts and demons. Know that I have died, that I have loved and lost with equal measure.
I saw forever in your eyes. . .


                Then you closed them.
Wrote this when I found out my husband was in love with another woman.
 Jul 2017 Maxine
oh me oh my
im sorry
i make your heels bleed from the eggshells,

im sorry
i bury landmines between your toes,

im sorry
i make you choke on your soft words.

im sorry i sail away.
same old same old
 Jul 2017 Maxine
oh me oh my
when i arrived,
i rose as a sunrise.

as i grew,
i became his noon.

and i grew,
and i became dusk.

and now,
i am the night,
but he wanted day.

i hope he loves me anyway.
forever searching for my grandfather's approval
 Jul 2017 Maxine
oh me oh my
They ask me if I still love you.

I blush, grin and say;

of course.

Why?

Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue,

but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea.

I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey.

I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance,

and the thunder rumbles from your irises,

and I hear it pound in the back of my mind.

I wonder if you knew.

I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while,

while you look at her.

My throat corrodes with bile.


She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents,

and I shrug.

What am I supposed to say?

I know you think about her.

Night and day.


The hardest part,

is a generic, old saying.

If you love them,

you let them go.

If they love you enough to stay,

or to come back,

you never let go.





But you haven't come back.
EDIT: Wow. Never expected this to blow up as big as it did. I thank you all so much!
EDIT: 2/15/14
i would say i never loved you, but that is a lie.
they say that your *first* love makes *you realize*, your first *love* wasnt really your first.
i pray for the day this happens.
*getting over you was the best thing i ever did.
and i did it for myself.*
so, one last:
*******.
you.***
EDIT: 9/14/14
i still hate you.
and you don't deserve her.
EDIT:   12/01/14
im sorry. you still arent
the same person
and neither is she.
but we all grow up.

EDIT
10/14/20
I was going through my bookmarks
on my old computer and found my old writings.
I just wanted to update this one last time to say things are better,
things are good. Thanks again for all the likes and comments.
 Jul 2017 Maxine
Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
 Jul 2017 Maxine
A Thomas Hawkins
Looking for the forest
from deep within the trees
lost within frustration
again upon my knees

Clouds once more have gathered
silver linings left behind
pain and pleasure hand in hand
forever intertwined

Torn between the future
and the struggles of the past
in a battle never ending
happiness can never last
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
 Jul 2017 Maxine
A Thomas Hawkins
Every night when I turn over, before I fall asleep, I wait for you to ask why.
I wait for you to ask why so that I can explain.
I can explain that if I turn over I can't see you. If I turn over and I wake up in the night, which is seem to do every night I stay here, at least two or three times, then all I see in the moonlight is the attic door, the vague outline of a bedside table, the soft pulsing glow of a charging cellphone.
Because if I can't see you then I can convince myself I won't feel the need to touch you.
Because if I don't touch you, I don't have to deal with the way it feels when you pull away.
So I turn over every night before I go to sleep and wait for you to ask.
But you never do.
Next page