Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2015 Taylor Westall
AFJ
Goodbyes are never good.
And hellos are never hell...
Well..
Howcome its always hard to tell?

When i met Amy..
she waved, like the ocean in the horizon view.
i mean, picture a Goddess herself, locking her eyes on you,
hypnotizing you,
Telling you all infinity lies in you,
Her heart hides in you,
Her vocal tone rises you...
Like the tide..

under the horizon view..

but her theory was dark. Like the side of the moon we don't see..
Weird, *** most of the time she was joyous and joke-sy.

But she had a mental intent.
to rent, an individuals mind until her emotion was spent.

Pitched up her tent,
Now she lives in my head.
i cant get rid of her, feeling blue when shes wearing red.
i cant get ahead..

i need her,
I bleed her.
i read her.
i see her.
She runs thru my mind mind so much,
even my feet hurt.

but shes evil.
Reveling in my chaos and depression.
her sole mission is to leave me well wishin..
fishing for hope, with nothing in my view.
except the horizon.
i cant forget her eyes'n....
the way she caressed my hand in the midst of my anger.
but its sad to say her theory just brings me danger..

she says she cant be happy if im happy.

i cant believe she can say that,
I mean,
sure shes a Ten..
sure shes a friend..
sure when i ask her to come over she always says, when..
i mean i dont ever wanna put her down...
Amy's my PEN.
the pen that stood beside me when i wrote my lifestory.
the pen that stays truthful even if it gets gory.
the pen that keeps me sane and even takes over for me,
The pen that allows me the hope to reach glory..and see..
the same pen that forces me write daily im trapped,
Confined in this desk, Hennessy spilled on my lap,
lost in life, blank map im tryna fill in the gap,
Last thing i needs a fucken object that keeps giving me crap!

Still ill love her forever, and never ever leave, thatll never occur...
my pen, i named her amy and sometimes i feel that i write for her.



-afj
I'm not worthy
of his
total affection adoration enthrallment
it isn't fair for him, truthfully, to have the one
who is scared of all that.
terrified to not be the girl who
belongs to everyone & no one at once
the girl who is writhing
trying to hold tight & strangle
the guilt grief regret shame
but also driven by
anxiety that all my writing
suddenly needs to tell everyone
that I am trying & anxiety
that I am so moved by him, the
affected girl who can't
function
walking into the sunset hand in hand.
I seem to fight every step
as if I'm not sure
I feel safe
being near the ocean that lets roam unchained & wild the
sharks, giant squids, leviathans & my beloved giant leatherback sea turtles
so endangered & dear.
The anxiety of the surprise contract to
dedicate every poem to him
& plan a future
without planning an end, too.

— The End —