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Nov 4 · 175
The Color Orange
You know, I never noticed
the color orange much
till I met you.

You told me
It was your favorite color
Now I see it everywhere.

Seeing orange in sunrise.
Seeing orange in your eyes
When the light reflects off them.

Seeing orange as the leaves fall
With an autumn breeze.
Seeing you when I see orange.

I love seeing your smile
And the glimmer in your eyes,
As we drive into the sunset.

Seeing the oranges blend
With my favorite color,
Of which is purple.

As long as the sun sets,
And our favorite colors can touch,
Our souls will as well.

So as the sun fades in the distance
And you sleep next to me
I wish you sweet dreams.

Dreams full of orange things
As full and vibrant
As I see you.

I will always love you
For as long as our colors touch
Each day with the setting sun.

For as long as there are
More days and sunsets of orange
I will love you.

Thank you for bringing
Such a beautiful color
Into my life.
To the person who made me love the color orange, thank you.
Mar 2023 · 733
Not So Tired
I'm tired of not dreaming.
My sleep does not rest me,
For when I close my eyes,
I open them back up to reality.

I'm tired of not moving.
My weary eyes stay open,
For if I close my eyes,
I do not go towards a future.

I'm tired of not breathing.
Every time I inhale,
It is to just maintain.
I wish I could still smell the flowers.

I'm tired.

So tired.

But when I'm with you,
I can sleep, dreaming of a future.

When I'm with you,
My stiff body moves forward.

When I'm with you,
I can finally have a breath of fresh air.

When I'm with you,
I'm not tired.
And I will never be tired of you.
Aug 2021 · 471
I'm In Love
The past,
I want to know.

The present,
I wish I could hold.

The future,
Will never be mine.
I'm a strong believer in if you love someone, you will let them be with what and who makes them happy, even if it's not me in the end.
Apr 2018 · 389
Maybe I
Maybe I am just not the one.
Maybe I'm just here to help you through
This jungled mess called life.

Maybe I'm not going to be with you
Maybe I will just be on the sidelines
Cheering you on till you find the one.

Maybe I just want you to be happy and
Maybe when you find happiness,
You will find it in me.

Maybe you don't find it in me..
If so, that's fine
For as long as you find happiness,
That is all I could ask for.
Feb 2016 · 541
I Don't Want to Die
"Depression is like the weather.
Some days it rains,
Some days it pours,
But if you stick around long enough,
You will see the sun."

That was what my dad told me...
And to an extent he was right.
But the dark clouds follow me
To where I stand in the rain of tears
Brought about by my own self being.

" depression hurts,
 but you don't have to,
 Cymbalta can help."
But at the end of the day
Not all of the medication in the world
Seems to help mend these thoughts.

I want to live,
I don't want to die.
However these thoughts...
These ideas that pop into my mind,
They are foreign and uneasy
To my mind, body, and old soul.

"I'll be fine"
I find myself saying this a lot lately.
I'll be fine. Like my father said, depression is like the weather. I'll eventually see the sun again.
Jan 2016 · 481
The Good Friend In Love
I love you,
As a friend.

I will always be there for you
As a friend.

When times get hard,
I'll be by your side,
As a friend.

I want to be more than just
As a friend.

I want to hold your hand not just
As a friend.

I want to hold you and love you,
but I just stand by your side
As a friend.

But I'm here for you,
As a friend.

I'll never get to be lovers with you
As a friend.

But as long as you're happy,
I'm happy,
As a friend.

But as a friend,
I know what how you want love.

As a friend,
I will be patient.

For if one day you wish to be
Together, I'll be here for you,
As something more than a friend.
To my friend that I will always be there for.
Aug 2015 · 815
The Smile in the Mirror
I use to know a little boy
Who would get up every morning
Look in his bathroom mirror
And find a reason to smile.

Like many other kids
He was bullied,
He was bruised and laughed upon.
But despite all that
He still found a reason to get up each morning
Look in the mirror
And find a reason to smile

But like most good things,
There came an end.
For at the age of eight
This little boy lost a part of his heart.

His sister had died.
The one who took care of him
When no one else did.
The one who was there for him
When no one else could
The one who was now gone
That on one else could replace.

After that his life sundered into an abbess,
An agonizing chain of death and regrets
That this little boy received
That would put the most strong and masculine of men
Into a ball of tears in the corner.

Death of a family member
Of someone the little boy held dear
Either died, or came to a point
Where they might as well be dead.

Each time this happened
The smile in the mirror
That the little boy use to be able to form
Turned into tears, and a blank face
Until the smile came nevermore.

He had nothing left.
His heart that was once filled with joy,
Now just an empty ***** in his cheats…

One day, as the kid became older and bolder
He wrote a letter to his parents
With kind, sweet words to let them know
That he would hurt no more.

He took his parents out that day
For one last day of fun,
One last day of smiles
Upon his parents faces,
One last day to say’
“I Love you, goodbye.”

When the night came out
So did his letter
Upon his bed
As he grabbed his shotgun
And snuck out the window.

He sat out in that pasture
For what seemed like an eternity
Until the tears stopped
As he slowly loaded the barrel
Pointed it in his mouth.
Took a deep breath.
And pulled the trigger.

His body fell to the ground.
Tears coming out,
But he wasn’t crying.
No sobs came from his throat.
No movement of his body,
Other than the tears coming out of his eyes.

After what seemed like hours,
He picked himself up off the grassy ground,
Grabbed his gun that jammed up,
Snuck back into his window,
Hid the letter and gun again,
And went back to bed.

The next morning he is greeted by his parents
Who simply say, “Morning.”
Give the kid a smile and a hug
And continue with their morning routine.

After trying not to cry,
But failing after the boy walked away,
Ran to his bathroom
And looked in the mirror.

Though there were tears in his eyes
And sobs in his throat
He looked into the mirror
And found a reason to smile once again.
I only ask is that you may respectful toward this story for it is a true one. So as I said before, please be respectful and considerate toward this story.
Aug 2015 · 734
The Organ Donor
I will give my heart away
For it was not mine to keep.
I'll be having the surgery today
And the surgeons will be going deep
Inside my chest where I feel beat
And yet I feel like I'm already dead.

My body is nothing but a sack of meat
Waiting to rot and decay.
I was once able to feel and love
But the pain that I bare
Has made me numb of disappear,
For every time I gave my love away
It was ripped out of my heart
And was thrown away
Like an old toy
That no kid will love.

So this beating thing in my chest
Has grown to cold, to bruised.
I admit I have been used
And my heart abused,
But this girl that will take my heart
Is still young and is loved.

She has always given her heart
Away like I have and has a joy
That most kids lack.
So as I lay down my head
On this hospital bed
I give away my heart
To this girl I don't know
That she may bring life into this heart
That was long lost,
A love that can heal this heart.

She can bring life into this empty *****
And with this I know,
That love can come back into this heart
That was never mine to keep.
.














  
  
  
    
    
    
    
    .
This may not be considered poetry, but it speaks to me as if it is. The blank page, the chance of great beginning. The emptiness that has the power to send words like bullets to your ear drums leaving such an impact that one can’t ignore!! But all the same the emptiness that we all see that our brain can’t muster up the feelings that are inside that we want to put words onto paper… so we sunder into the void of oblivion because the white canvas of which we were to once put all of what we have into is to pure in its white cascade of which our ink would only taint. Thus, leaving “The Poet’s White Canvas” as it is, admiring what simplistic power it holds as well as its potential of what it can be.
Aug 2015 · 1.2k
Blissful Emptiness
Emptiness is blissful
The absence of stress
The void of silence
The feeling of an empty bed
That only your body can fill.

It seems cruel
It seems scary,
But like the night
Which once frightened us as kids
Becomes safe haven for the wondering mind.

Yes there are joys that come
With the passing of time
Surrounded by people, sounds, and objects
That can bring such pleasures,
But with each pro there is a con.

The hate
The resentment
The overwhelming of pressure,
It can become too much.
So you push it all away.

And just like that,
No worries
Nothing to hate
No construct of sound
Or responsibilities

Just blissful emptiness.
When life becomes to much, I tend to find peace in the seldom silence of my home.

— The End —