The rose petals began to melt onto the floor,
Wax figures dancing my favorite song,
My shoes outgrowing me as I try to slip in,
and I fall through the hole in the ground.
Deeper and deeper it went,
I saw you,
My body falls onto the hard concrete floor,
making the whole world shake.
I wake up to see the blurry lines written on my walls,
“It was optimistic of me to believe
That I was meant to be happy.”
The whiplash of your farts still linger in my room,
It smells like a ******* zoo.
You smile and laugh
As I coward away in a corner screaming at the top of my lungs because your farts ******* stink.
I ask you what did you have to eat,
and you reply "The boxed mac n cheese, with MILK!"
My heart stops and my eyes nearly plop out of my head
"Milk!?" I scream into my shirt, covering my nose
To stop the smell of death.
******* your farts stink.
i still love my girlfriend but dang, her farts do stink
Your hands and knees
hit the floor
with your head to the ground
you let out a blood curling scream
leaving goosebumps on my body
and my eyes wide open
“Deja de llorar”
Slips from my mouth and into your ears
“La luz de mi vida ya no brilla,
mi piel arrugada y fea,
mi cuerpo ya está cansado,
como puedes decir
“Deja de llorar”
My head jerks back
and my arms fall by my side
“Deja de llorar”
Slips from my mouth once more
But this time i’m saying it to myself
The realization that your mother is growing old is terrifying and that you can't do anything to stop it, is what inspired me to write this. (Even though my mother passed away a while ago, i've seen my aunt grow old and I feel like it can be applied.)
A canvas with white paint,
And nothing else,
Leaves the impression that no matter what I paint
no one will see.
But you grabbed my hand and
Dipped it in yellow,
Tracing over the white lies
I have created.
I can't speak her name,
Because if I try, my whole life collapses,
I can't think of her,
Because if I do, my mind rushes to think of "that day,"
I can't hear her voice,
Because if I try, I hear a mixture of different voices.
I can't smell her,
Because if I do, I only smell death-
-like the last sniff I took when I stood beside her bed.
I can only remember,
When I was a kid.
When I would lay next to her in bed and she would drag me out with her cold hands telling me I'm going to be late for school.
When I was 5 and went to work with her,
When I tripped over a wire and landed on a nail.
When she desperately helped me up, crying because I was in pain.
When the last memory I have is her kissing me goodnight,
When she told me, she loved me the night before she died.
When she took her last breath.
I was 11 when God first gave me lemons,
He took my hand and walked me through the city of Heaven,
He told me he had a surprise, but I had to give up something precious.
I asked him what,
And he pointed, and said
My eyes opened wide and I asked, "Why?"
He said he wanted to give me something better,
How could taking her away be better?
And said you'll see.
As he walked away
With Her by his side.
I was only 11 when God gave me lemons and I cried.
when life gives you lemons
Let me write you a letter
Open with my favorite line
"I miss you, and can't wait to see you"
What a lie.
I continue to write,
"My heart aches for you,
Oh how I love you"
But I know it's not true.
Love Lies in a Pen.
The final part to Love, Lies and a Pen