Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Aug 2014 Antonio
BIGriel
what is true love?
someone once told me
that love doesn't exist
until you've reached the age of 60

I dated a girl with mental problems
and had a lot of expectations
and she somehow expected
that I could deal with it.

Her attitude was inconsistent
she was happy at first
and sad the next
but always told me it was because of stress

but I could say this
despite all the problems
despite all the stress
she is the first girl I felt love for

but a strange feeling occurred
as our relationship ended
I had feelings for another
and i start to wonder

am I in love with this girl
who I've known for two years
who I've helped through tough times
who I've never gotten sick of?

someone once told me
that love doesn't exist
until you've reached the age of 60

so is what Im feeling true love,

maybe for a 14 year old.
Antonio Jun 2014
You paint a perfect picture.

Full of firey reds
and deepest blue.
A sprinkle of gold
adds the final touch
to this masterpiece of 'you.'

But I've learned my lessons well.
Between the brush strokes,
the color choices,
the vibrant subject,
and opinionated voices.

A deeper inspection finds
a glaring exception.
The missing shadows
and darkened hues.
A blackened soul conveniently
hidden from view.

Deliberate?
Most likely.

Deceit is your brush,
vivid lies fill your pallete.
A habit common among
those whos veneer
is as thin as your canvas.

~~~
  May 2014 Antonio
Steff
If you looked into my eyes,
What would you see?
Would you see the growing sadness
That I've hidden for so long?
Would you see the tears
That I choke back everyday?
If you looked deeply enough,
Would you see the ******* pain
That consumes my very soul?
Would you see just how
******* hard it is
For me to go through every day
As if nothing was wrong?
Just look into my eyes,
Truly look and tell me,
What do you see?
  May 2014 Antonio
Steff
I want to be immune
To the song that lures
Me to you.
The sensuous pull
That has me wanting,
Needing,
To be in your grasp,
Your hands tangled
In my hair,
Your teeth to my skin.
I want to be immune
To the hunger I feel
For your kiss,
The ache I feel
For your touch.
Because I need you,
So much it hurts.
Antonio May 2014
the late afternoon of life.
the Sun hurtling toward the horizon
shedding its yellow brilliance
for a deep orange shawl that
turns my ageing landscape
into a warm diffuse gold.

The path to my distant demise
is shorter and brighter now
as the long winding road
behind me fills the breeze
with a brisk evening chill.

as I pause to look back
at the shadow of my past,
its long dark cast stretches
over the valleys and peaks
that once blocked my path

greying shadows behind me.
golden red brilliance ahead.
the journey near completion.
soon, no more path to tread.*

~~~
Next page