Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2014 abby
ahmo
One step leads to the next.
Propels us
Compels us
to do more
despite what rewards we reap for idleness.

Don't forget it
you have to remember.

Another night of lost scarves and broken glass?
Another autumn wrapping winter in foiled paper?
Another snowflake to break the camel's back.
Another night  to be propelled
and compelled
to continue.

Stepping into another day
is much like stepping into a tunnel.
Our insecurities hidden
and our dreams in the distance.

There is a light.
There must be.
 Dec 2014 abby
ahmo
treading water.
 Dec 2014 abby
ahmo
I am a timeline of everything I've ever known.
It's copied onto thirty-five pieces of blank paper
and revealed to you in that mundane history course
that everyone naps through.

I can't deny
that among the black waves,
I've seen a sea star or two.
But I seem to be devoutly colorblind
to the silver linings that outline
what I've gone through.

You can't disguise your drowning,
nor can you swim to shore.
You just have to hope
that no one knows what to look for.
 Dec 2014 abby
WickedHope
Rope
 Dec 2014 abby
WickedHope
I
h
a
v
e
f
e
e
l
i
n
g
s
that
form
thou
ghts,
that
form
words,
that          form
sente            ­     nces,
that                       form
rope,                         which
ties                               itself
into a                            noose.
Your                         ­     words
are also                    a rope,
that saves me from
drowning.
Sorry if you can't read it.
Kinda.
 Dec 2014 abby
Sophie Herzing
Oasis
 Dec 2014 abby
Sophie Herzing
After the last bombing,
boys crowded me like vultures, trying to ****
the last good bit of me out and use it
to revive their own secret pride, make it a little sweeter.
They absorbed the sun-rays from my skin,
drank my kisses in like the final drop from the canteen.
But you showed up, a mirage in khakis and a clean shirt
with hair melted gold and a pressed button-down,
and I pulled you like an afterthought
through the membranes of protection
I made for myself. I caved.
I let myself fall through the reassurances, the promises
of never allowing myself to feel
that sentimental over a night spent sleeping,
your touch like little electric shocks tickling
my skin as you breathed relaxation into my ears
and memorized the ***** of my stomach into my hip.
I climbed through the covers and opened my mouth
as my heart bloomed over you. I guess,

I'm a little dried out. I guess,
since there hasn't been a single call,
that you've noticed how badly shaped I am and how
unsound my actions may be. But, baby,
I meant every thank you, every smile, every little
spotted kiss on your collarbone. And if I have to

I guess I can forget you. Tie myself to my footsteps
as I trace the cracks back to the sand you found me lying in
when you rode my hope like the sun
and proved that maybe the pain has only just begun.
 Dec 2014 abby
Echo
~Look, I'm sorry I told you that you are ugly.
Sometimes I just can't believe what I see.
We can be friends, maybe.
I'll tell you how beautiful you are.
Because you are me.
Sometimes I hate you,
Sometimes I don't understand you.
But one thing we can both agree,
Is that I don't mean those things.
And I'm so, so sorry...
....
....
....
that you had to be me. </3~
. . .
Next page