Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Contoured Jan 2021
Your silence was all I needed to hear.
Contoured Jun 2020
As the light in your eyes faded,
And a smile on your lips never dawned,
I noticed you'd fallen out of love,
To which I had nothing to respond.
Contoured Dec 2019
The water in my faucet is red,
Because the pipes have began to rust.
I should've cleaned them out,
But the problem is I just..

I just couldn't return to the pipes because I always seemed to crave pb&j's when they'd come to mind and I quickly forgot about them.

I miss the once clear water,
I remember when it gained a tint.
I should've cleaned them then,
But I just didn't...

I didn't want the chemicals to touch my hands and make them feel the way hands do when they touch chemicals.

I should buy a new faucet,
One rust free, preferably matte.
It would fix all of my problems,
But the problem is that...

Is that it'd be a different faucet.
Contoured Oct 2019
Disintegrated wings,
Even angels fall too.
A glance up to the sky,
Caught a transcending view.

Landed on two feet,
An angel's new terrain.
Only few will sit and worship,
But most attempt in vain.

The sky was never cleared,
In fact, formations all the more.
A rabbit, a cake, an astronaut,
Even rain would still downpour.

Following in hopeful doubt,
Freedom's symbol is no chain,
Bare in mind, no change occurred,
The droplets were always acid rain.

Caught in fair deceit,
For my fault was to submit.
When glancing from the outside,
I didn't see the whole of it.

Because angels never fall,
With wings upon their back.
For a fall is cunning foolery,
And we're victims of attack.

Stuck in hypnotic values,
Our worth seemed to accrue.
But we must've forgotten the fact:
That the devil walks here too.
Contoured Jul 2019
Roses may be red,
But I'm always blue.
Someone could show me paradise,
And I'll see a grotesque view.

Roses may be red,
But sometimes I'm blue.
I'm aware of the sunlight,
And I'm slightly warmer too.

Roses may be red,
But I'm feeling less blue.
I've met you, extraordinaire,
A palette of colors, anew.

Roses may be red,
But I'm no longer blue.
You brought paradise to me,
Because paradise is you.
Contoured Jul 2019
I am not the princess.
I've had a pea under my mattress for a while now,
But you've found no concern in that.
In fact, it's slowly been duplicated.
At first, only by a few,
Then dozens.
Now there are hundreds of them,
Unconstrained by the confines of the bed.
But so long as there are peas,
You will argue them to fit.
So long as there are peas,
I will lie, uneasy,
Though I am no princess.
Contoured Jun 2019
My mind blisters,
From the thoughts it contains.
To formulate their verbal representation,
I'd be tasked to break the restraints.

But what an arduous task,
To release such material.
When the thoughts are masked by cobwebs,
Made from freshly cut steel.

Now don't find it unjust,
That my words stay contained.
I yearn to share with you my mind,
But my will has been drained.

To encounter dismissal,
With my newly-found hope,
Holds the excess thoughts hostage,
In bitter pursuit to cope.
My faulty thoughts have become rejects.
Next page