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 Jun 2014
Forgotten Dreams
Please don't tell me you care... It just gets my hopes up... And I don't want them crushed again
 Jun 2014
caroline
my ribs are doing that jerky
breathing thing again
and im not sure if it's the smell of
your perfume that's suffocating me,
or the replay of memories that are
still creeping into my brain
whispering in my ear "remember.."
pulling on each string of my heart
ripping and tearing it apart

the memories i spend over 15
hours a day trying to shove into the back of my head and forget,
i stupidly keep writing about
 Jun 2014
Forgotten Dreams
Are you okay?
No not really but I have to sound perfect around you so I guess I'm okay
Why do you keep asking me if you look okay?
Because I don't believe you
Why do you keep fiddling with your hair?
Because it looks terrible and maybe if I keep messing with it, it might look alright
You're fine with us being just friends, right?
No. Not at all. If I value you enough to stay friends with you it means I really want you back.
Why do you keep leaving me?*
Because that way you won't leave me first
I don't know if this applies to all girls but it certainly does to me...
 Jun 2014
Forgotten Dreams
It's funny how people forget,
That underneath those white stones
There are people...
Young men.
Men that hadn't even started living.
It's not just a name on a pretty white stone,
Covered in roses and poppies,
That hide what lies beneath.
Those are men who stood up with real courage,
Not like what you read in books,
But real courage.
They knew the risks...or sometimes didn't...
But they still stood.
Unlike you and I who just complain,
Those men fought for our future...
So no my friend it's not just a pretty white stone,
They are the real Heros
Spent the last four days touring the battlefields in Normandy and this is just one of the poems I came up with whilst there. All feedback is highly welcomed :]
 Jun 2014
Autumn
I let it back in. I let it creep into my soul.
no I let it unbury itself from the grapple it was under.
I let it walk out of the shadows and bowed down to it.
it referred to me as "autumn" and I couldn't respond, because the girl that was once here, was cut up into little pieces, and forgotten but myself.
I let her rot away, under the skeptical of other's all while she had that smile upon her face.
and now, here we are in the same body.
no place for her dearest to go.
HAHAHA she is trembling, afraid of herself,
and ****. have I ever been more proud, my greatest work of all?
sitting here, begging for me to leave.
honey, sweet pea, **** yourself.
because I am here and now and you aren't getting rid of me.
you should have done that 3 years ago.
you should have listened to the whispers.
instead of slowly fading away.
 Jun 2014
Autumn
I keep hearing them say,  it'll get better in time.
It'll be worth it.
I promise you please don't give up, it'll be worth it.
and I do not understand.
anything can happen in time, and what if it simply gets worse as it has already?
it is my ******* ******* and I am its ******* worthless *****.
who cannot simply walk away.
But how do you walk away from something invisible?
how do you walk away when it is all you have?
the only one that's been there. My little friend who isn't really a friend at all.
golley.
I am going insane.
I have full conversations with myself in my head, and sometime I laugh out loud while having them.
because my little friend was always there.
and every time I try to escape, to overpower it, to run away,
it gets worse so much ******* worse,
and I just can't anymore.
Not really a poem.
 Jun 2014
Forgotten Dreams
Poetry has become my self harm,
I only write at my lows...
Instead of blood I see words,
Instead of a blade I have a keyboard...

I want to write about...
The wind dancing with the sea...
Or...
The way you smile and it lights up your innocent face...

I don't want poetry to be my self harm,
Because poetry is beautiful...
An art...
Not.
Just.
Blood.
And.
Scars.
Judge away... I'm trying to not care... No matter how much I do ...
 Jun 2014
happily anonymous
the sweet warm breath on my neck
the scratches on your back
my deep moans of pleasure
and the clenching of the sheets
oh how I love the way you make love to me
 Jun 2014
Camellia-Japonica
She
She must be able to see what I see
Feel what I feel
Hear what I hear.
Does she blind herself?
Does she deafen herself?
Does she deaden the pain somehow?
I scream inside that this is not you,
you are worth more.
Love is not a slap
Love is not staying
Love is not hearing over and over words such as *****.
But, she is not me anymore, she has chosen a path.
A path I cannot follow, but follow I must,
for she is me I am her.
the physical me switches me off, just before
the blow, just before the scream.
© JLB
12/06/2014
 Jun 2014
Zaynub
How outrageous it was
that the world refused to stop
Even for a moment
To give a person
one more reason
For their world to turn
have you ever talked someone out of suicide and afterwards found it strange went about their daily lives like they weren't struggling?
 Jun 2014
Fenix Flight
Her feelings are burried deep down
like the pharohs of old.

She pushes on and carries on
Protecting her family
by bringing them endless laughter.

But

Her Humor is drying out
like a puddle in a drought.

The court jester is stumbling
struggling to hold on
She is reaching out for help

The court jester is crumbling
right infront of everyones eyes.
But she does it in secret

with a slice of her wrist here
and a swipe at her legs there.

She puts on her plastic smile
and brings laughter to everyone around her.
Read my poem
The Story Behind the Court Jester,
it ties somewhat into this one
 Jun 2014
blair asher
i
you deserve happiness, so i left
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