Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2015 Trupoetry
Devin Tinnin
This house is no home
This town has no roads
Don't ever think this is permanent for me
And we can fake it until the summer comes
Because I have been dizzy since my death.

My spirit still goes.
I don't know anymore
What to think of you
nor with your "I love you"
Cause at one point,
it could heal all my deepest wounds
But could bear the biggest scar

Your words feel like soft marshmallows
Yet the after taste sting like a billion arrows

The way you touch my fragile skin
makes it glow and look flawless
But as it glows
it grows weaker
Then burns into ashes

The way you build me up
then break me down

Tears my soul and I crash onto the ground
Have you ever met someone like this?
Add a poem for the whole
add one for the broken
add one so those who cant speak wont go unspoken
Add one for those of us who wont say it for themselves
because that's why we click 'Add Poem'
for those who cant except It
I rite these words so that you know why w write these poems
we are nothing special we just how to let it out
Love Hate tag your who's all the same
we write these words so that you know its not over so read these
words and get that I love you don't give in tonight
 Apr 2015 Trupoetry
Unknown
Tirade
 Apr 2015 Trupoetry
Unknown
This is the hanging thread
A long string of
Unspoken words
The rope that at one end
Holds down hearts
And at another
Coils around your
Wrist

Perhaps you weren't awake
During the moonlight hours
Looming reflections of today
Glass to my feet

This is the part
Where I write all the emotions down
And outwardly spew blame
Towards the victim of my insecurities
Whom I see as their
Beginning

I
Me
My
We?

I came home today with
A basket of metaphorical flowers
Chrysanthemums and Roses
All the pretty colors of fake
Yet you saw only the thorns
Of our punctured reality

In bleeding hands is the trust
Heart, soul and mind
As well as
Blood-borne illness

All items are
Brittle, apt to break
Yet I bloodied these fingertips
You did not
Toil

You only whisper to me anymore
Still cannot conceal the scent
Of displeasure
Taste
Of bile

Here are the musings
I have failed to intone even softly
Under my breath
For you fail to listen
While you are
*Awake
Next page