Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
You are a bullet,
harmless, fascinating, daunting -
when unprovoked and on your own.
Except maybe a choking hazard.
Nice to touch and feel on my skin, but cold.

Give you power,
or a gun,
your aim is never accurate but
deadly all the same.

I can replay it - you charging
at the TV with incredible speed -
in slow motion.
The sound that followed was deafening.
It was an ear ringing, catastrophic explosion.
It was your fist meeting the screen,
us screaming and me crying,
on my cut up and bruised knees,
for you not to leave.

I had a tendency to chase after bullets
and a desire to fix the disastrous mess they would create.
I didn’t know why I could never catch up,
until I stopped running and saw that I was the one being chased.
And that I was my disastrous mess I had to clean up.

I stopped going after bullets.
Now I play with fire.
© LAICEY Poems November 2020
It´s difficult to love when we are down,
It´s like having nowhere to sleep,
We just pretend that we have an option.
Under the bridge or on the garden bench.

Like dust, we rise a couple seconds
At the passage of the unknown
Anxiously aiming to be oxygen
In someone´s lungs
But we fall painfully slow on the ground.

Like smoke of a fire
Or fog we have an effect
A principle of being
But we just can't feel it

A cause
Or a mere colatteral accident in life?
A real pain
Or nature´s oblivion...?
He watered the flowers in my chest and they blossomed.
I showed him all of the colours on my tongue and he stayed.

He’s like a breath of fresh air,
clearing my mind but filling my lungs.
It’s different and warm. It’s hopeful.
This feels so easy without me feeling like I’m easy. It’s serene.

There is something remarkable in the way he speaks,
the way he laughs and whispers and sings.
It will remind you of knowledge infused innocence.
Until we’re ******* each other in the kitchen.

We kiss and it’s like I’ve tasted everything sweet,
while my body is being set on fire and
the butterflies’ wings still flutter with desire.
I lay my ear flat against his chest, as I try to
memorise the rhythm of his heartbeat.

We’re driving down an empty highway.
I look over, you take my hand and smile with your green eyes.
We stay silent but I know and you know:
this is the most profound feeling in life.
© LAICEY Poems October 2020
you’re great at storytelling and
i could fall asleep to the sound
of your voice as it recounts a memory.
but i don’t want to be a part of your story.

i'm not one to be religious but i do hope to
god that i don't become one of them as
you remember the ghosts of us out loud
on the phone at 3am to another like me.

don’t let me be just your character development.
bring me on your entire journey and
let me remain the one you call at 3am
when you're dying to tell all the stories that you’ll have to tell in our future.

i don't want to be a part of your story.
i want to be your reality.
© LAICEY Poems September 2020
  Sep 5 LAICEY
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
  Sep 5 LAICEY
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Next page