Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2016 Proxii
coyote
m'ija
 May 2016 Proxii
coyote
she has a way of making small things feel significant:

the way she taped her moving boxes together,
double stripped: she doesn't know if the first one
will hold; her white lighter superstition; the way her
skin was quick to bruise, even when you were gentle;
her broken teeth, the lost fillings you ran your tongue
over like your tires on her pockmarked street the first
and last times (and all the times in between) that you
drove to that bad side of town, where shoes swung
from power lines and women wept over the sticky red
bodies of sons and husbands and fathers but only spoke
in hushed, shamed spanish about their own blood loss.

in the end, there's nothing too significant about it: she has
trust issues that extend to duct tape and lighters; she bruises
like a peach; she has bad teeth because she was too poor to fix
them; her love dried up like the brazos in the texas summer.
 May 2016 Proxii
Miss Cornelia
My dear,
I will destroy you

I will hold you tight until your soul aching,
I will bite your beautiful lips
By my hugs your lungs cannot take breath

My dear,
Those pains are the only pain you deserve
From me
 May 2016 Proxii
Kay Ireland
My God
 May 2016 Proxii
Kay Ireland
I wish I had never met you.

You are Apollo, Zeus, and Hercules. You are midnight lullabies. You are drunken fists turned to open hands. You are the one constant presence in hotel rooms in Barcelona, Ibiza, Budapest, New York, everywhere. You are bloodied lips. You are gentle kisses. You are post-nightmare reassurance. You are a bullet to the head. You are toppled sandcastles on Massachusetts shores. You are white walls. You are the brightness of a phone screen in a dark room. You are a bruise that doesn’t go away. You are cold, rosy cheeks. You are morning coffee. You are yellowed pages of forgotten books. You are razor-burned jawlines. You are the crack of billiard *****. You are the hand on my knee beneath the table. You are the moon flooding through thin curtains. You are phantom limbs. You are a foreign name on a foreign tongue. You are the sunrise. You are a memory that doesn’t fade. You are every ******* poem I write.

I wish I had never met you.
 May 2016 Proxii
Kay Ireland
You should come with a warning label.
Caution: Will break your heart
And make you question everything.

The wickedness of fallible love
Is a lesson I will never learn.
I should’ve seen you coming.

It is so difficult to love someone new
When the last hands that held me
Were yours.
I didn’t know you cross your fingers
Before making promises.
I never did.
Not with you.  

There are no duck-and-cover practices;
Stop, drop, and roll doesn’t work
When your heart is on fire
And the smoke is suffocating.
Not everyone survives this day.
 May 2016 Proxii
PamelaH
Darling,
The opposite of love isn't hate
It's indifference.

It is leaving right before dawn
Opening my eyes as we kiss
Burning your letters
Collecting your tears
Ignoring your calls

Letting my feeling flow in the air
And never reaching you

Allowing you to believe I might hold your hand one day

Darling,
The opposite of love is me.
Next page