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 Oct 2016 b for short
The Nada
It started with a one-liner,
Now here I am can’t get over,
Not because I want it
But because I can not.

It is a sure silent affection
For, maybe afraid of rejection.

But you can’t blame
A prosaic girl that will never your like.
Tried to halt many times
Yet your charisma surefire.
The Nada
Silence says much more
Than useless words we have said
Many times before
 Oct 2016 b for short
Peninsula
When we've turned to past
And all our memories turn
To vicious whirlwinds
: Untouchable
Aftermaths of aftermaths of flames,
Of which we were the arsonists--
Even with our senses impaired--
I'll still come back to you.
.
Watching DC and ****
Trickery by crown of aces
A contest of befriending faces
Noble curiosity stolen by sweeping shadows
Disguised in safe places
--
She stepped upon the pulse of the streets
And slipped between the drunken sheets
Hoping to find that familiar scent
Of ****** sweating in perfumed heat

© Matthew Goff
 Oct 2016 b for short
BarelyABard
I drink too much and love too fast.
This life of mine's not meant to last.
The world I seem to occupy
will never see me eye to eye
when rules which bound our fragile lives,
leave us fractured,
in disguise.
But if I went a different path,
and found some peace in all my wrath,
could I escape into a realm
where'd I'd be captain at the helm?
Rid my soul of all the fear,
that there is only order here.

Do not follow what they say
and don't just live from day to day
Fight away the nine to five
and find what makes you feel alive.
Be strange.
Be weird.
Go search for you.
Climb the peaks and sail the blue.
The high you'll feel is not unreal
just emptiness you wish to heal.
Rain on the window,

Droplets flirt as they foxtrot,

Finding their partner.
Opia. Noun. The ambiguous intensity of looking into someone's eyes, which can fell simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

As you lie in my arms, watching the television, you don't notice that my undivided attention is focused on you. Something I've been dreaming of for weeks, and it's finally come true. Even better, from your angle, you can't see me staring into your eyes, so I don't feel the nervous compulsion to turn away. Whether directly or not, I could drink in your eyes with mine, for hours, and they would be among the best hours of my life.
Then there's the other hand, held tightly by trepidation. I love the prospect of your eyes staring into mine, but it's not without its fears. I'm afraid you'll see all the pain and fears that I've spent the past seven years working to overcome. I'm afraid you'll see all the insecurity and doubts I have about myself. I'm afraid you'll see all the words that I long to whisper in your ear, but can't, because I'm terrified of scaring you away. I'm afraid you won't like the fact that, behind these eyes lies only pictures and thoughts of you. But most of all, I'm afraid that, unlike me, who loves every detail, and lives for moments like these, you won't love the things you see. I long for the day when you stare happily into my eyes, but I'm frightened that you won't enjoy the secrets they reveal.
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