2d mk
LiqouricePepsi

I left the diner at 12pm.
I brushed my slightly overgrown teenage hair back,
and put on my straw hat. My pink bike rested on a
coffee-coloured wall. I pulled a carton of cigarettes
out of my pink sweatshirt pocket, watermelon flavour,
to be exact. I strolled the street, with my
bike in hand and rose-red cigarette in mouth,
the tip lighting up like a black volcano, now and then.
Leaves, curled up like dolphins dance on these
solitary streets.
I got on my pink bike
and Tokyo-drifted down the streets of solitude.
I felt like a penguin parading down deserts of ice,
delivering a holy message of nothingness,
my words are nothing,
my sentences are nothing,
my paragraphs are nothing,
my questions are nothing,
my answers are nothing,
and my poetry is nothing.
I zoomed down the silent and suffering streets
as an unimportant pink blur, a speck of existence.
Garbage bins zoom by, where my poetry sleeps,
full with wasps worshipping rotten amber apples.
The tropical tang of the watermelon cigarette faded,
I flung it from my marble mouth and
like an executioner, the bike wheels finished the flame.
The tiny black volcano lay extinct on the gravestone street.
Graffiti posed like a Playboy model on broken concrete walls,
painted by philosophical and political punks, the real heroes
who are censored by the desperate void of customs and rules.
All they want and all I want
is to be set free
by breaking the barriers
of love,
and the barriers of language and expression
and to be hidden by the eternal judgement and
distorted doubts of a non-existent closet of fear.
The dolphin leaves dance joyfully and swiftly,
like an American boy’s passionate kiss
filled with an erotic marijuana bliss.
I am with him now,
I am with him forever,
and I am with him in the grave.
I am with his lips,
I am with his hands,
I am with his stomach,
I am with his cock and balls.
I am with his legs,
I am with his heart,
and I am with his soul.
I am with Nate.
Desolate, hurt and confused in the Irish suburbanite darkness,
I dream of a warm, sunny day in North Carolina,
right outside my not-yet house and
on bright, emerald, neon green grass,
I lean in for a kiss
with Nate.

If you were alarmed by my inactivity, well don't  worry, I was only writing this, my longest poem ever... It's essentially my "Howl"
mk 2d

distance was no stranger to us
but months passed, almost a year
and i could still feel his lips on mine
the smell of his skin and the taste
of his mouth
distance and time didn't matter
his physical absence was recovered
by the memory in my touch

it's barely been five months
since i said the final goodbye
this was a new kind of distance
one bound with fear and freedom
now, at nights, i cannot feel him on me
i cannot see him when i close my eyes
my memory hazes over as i try to recall
what he tasted like, smelt like, felt like
there are echoes in my mind
of his laughter and his anger
there are echoes in my mind of what
it sounded like when he told me
everything was going to be okay
but everything really isn't okay
and i can barely remember what it
felt like to hold him and feel like
everything was going to be okay

memory is a bitch;
you are its master
and i am its slave.

how long do i have until i forget the cause of my pain & longing?
mk 3d

there's more to 'i need you' than meets the eye
the deep pangs, in waves, that crash inside
the emptiness and loneliness
my body begging to be touched
the late nights and the early mornings
the pain that stabs without warning
when i see a couple with fingers intertwined
i go back to the days when you were mine
good & bad
ugly & true
there was so much more
to me and you
it's all gone now and
'i need you' doesn't do justice
no words, no poems
can describe how much i miss us

hold my hand
  3d mk
nadine shane

i am
a confusing person.

i may
love things
that i hate;

i may
hate things
that i love.

sometimes
i adore the sun setting
and i close my eyes
as the sun drapes itself
with dust and memories.

then
i despise the way
the sun rises
with false anticipation
for children chasing them,
desiring to touch
even a glint of gold
and sunlight.

but i try not to love
the way your crooked smile
makes everything look
endearing.

because
i am afraid
that i will soon learn
to hate it.

please do not make me adore you.
mk 4d

shock. denial. it didn't feel real. somewhere in my head, you were still a very much real part of me and even though i knew we had "broken up", my heart did not know it, my body did not know it, my fingertips still searched for you just as much as my eyes did. i lived in a numbness, denying the permanence of the situation and even though i knew we weren't getting back together, i knew nothing at all. we had to end up together. we always ended up together. and there were days where i'd reject advances from other boys telling them i still had a boyfriend. there were days something great would happen and i would run to the phone to tell you. there were days my soul was crushed under the weight of the world and i would run to tell you. my phone lit up and i always saw your name despite the fact that you seized to call. every voice sounded like yours. every face mirrored yours. for weeks, i went through life believing nothing had changed; even though, objectively, nothing was the same.

pain. guilt. do you recognize the panic of waking up in the middle of the night with no air in your lungs and your body covered in beads of sweat? do you recognize the pain in your chest when you realize he isn't lying next to you and that you've made a big big mistake? you play back all the times it was your fault and somehow it seems like everytime was your fault and you're on your knees begging God please bring him back to me but it's too late? do you know what it's like to be willing to sell your mind body and soul just for one more night with him alone? you're considering a variety of drugs because this is too much and the pain in your head behind your eyes makes you feel like you'll die? your body is raw and your throat feels like someone has grated it? your limbs fall to their sides and there is nothing left besides pain. chaos. guilt. the deep guilt of never being enough, perhaps if i'd done this differently, perhaps if i'd done that differently, perhaps...

anger. bargaining. i hate him i hate him i hate him i hate everyone i hate myself i hate you and this and i just want to get out of here. i hate. i am so full of fucking hate i want to break...myself and others, there is this rage i cannot get out it still stuck in my body and i want to shout i am stuck in this hell and i'm falling can't you see? i'll rip him into pieces, how could he leave me? and God, God, how could you put me through this? no human can handle this alone but damn, it doesn't get more alone than this. wasn't i good enough? am i not good enough? was it my fault for never being enough or was it his for never wanting me enough? he never loved me enough. he's a monster. he's a narcissist. a womanizer. a cheater. a liar. a fraud. (i'd take back all those words if he just came back to me). (what can i do to make you come back to me?)

depression. reflection. loneliness. i can't get out of bed.
i know he's never coming back. i know we weren't meant to be. but i can't go on. i can't just...forget. i can't get out of bed.

reconstruction. working through. i'm waking up and cleaning my room. the world doesn't have the same kind of light and my eyes will never be as bright, but that's okay. i'm waking up and realizing that maybe the best part of me has been taken away, but there's always a new day and all i have to do is just...one step at a time. you know? one step at a time and sure, he'll never be mine but people come and people go and he has a part of me that he will never know, but i cannot hold on to hurt, i cannot hold on to pain and i would be in vain if i told myself that there was more to this, but maybe this is the end. my fingers will bleed from the journal entries. my tissue box is empty and wet. my friends have heard endlessly about what you mean(t) to me and sometimes, i still wish i was dead. but the sun still shines and i see that you are no longer mine. i love you, still, but one step at a time and perhaps one day, in the distant future, i will be fine.

acceptance. hope. he is gone. he is going to walk down the alter with someone else one day. he will hold her and kiss her and her children will have his name. he will carry her to bed and she will wake him up with breakfast in bed. he is hers. she is his. she will be his bride. his wife. his widow. i am his widow- of a relationship that barely lasted a few years- i am his widow, too. but just as new flowers grew in that patch of dirt so long ago, i will grow too. one day i will find someone who will hold my hand and take me to new lands and one day i will find happiness too. not today, not tomorrow, but one day. and being across the world from the one i once knew, i know someday, he'll stop thinking of me too.

and in between there stages of grief will come those days when i can't leave my bed or talk or walk or move my little finger there will be days when i crawl into a hole and know that there is no getting out. there is always another day but sometimes it won't feel that way. emotional outbursts and pain feel like they're here to stay. but that's okay. one day, it won't feel that way. one day, it'll start to fade away and maybe the memory of him will always be at the tip of your tongue- but soon, you will learn, the world is full of new flavors for which one day, you will yearn.

- cheers to new beginnings and old pains -
mk 4d

i wanted to
come home for spring
tasting the sunshine
hidden behind curtains
the flowers that bloom
in my nani's garden
the smell of
the city i love & the
sounds of familiarity and love
the popcorn that lingers in
cinema halls and
the wind against your skin
driving down the main road
no laws, no hurt
the sun, the dirt
it's all so close to
home

but then
it hits me

home
is empty

you left and took
the sunshine in
your pocket
the seat next to me
in cars, and cinemas
forever empty from
now on
and what's the point
of going back home
when emptiness and
loneliness is
what greets me at the
front door and why
should i come
stay after all i love
has subtly washed away
the day you chose
to leave;
not stay.

- goodbye march, goodbye home
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