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 Aug 2015
Yasmin Arnavout
she waltzed to the sound of
her sadness-oblivious.
Distorted by piano keys, major
melancholy Madness.
Feather tears picked on harps- flowing
as though the rain began to fall.
 Aug 2015
mrmonst3r
There is love in
my shadows
Tucked away,
In my dusky soul.
Resplendent
In its legend.
Written in
another
Tongue.
It's there.
Among the Ruins.
 Aug 2015
David Swinden
Ground-hog Day has arrived once more
To breakdown my dreams scattered on the floor
Same old feelings into poetry I pour
Days when I sink like a stone

Chasing lost dreams till four in the morning
In pictures I keep memories, my souls does the hoarding
I walk in the daylight with my heart still in mourning
Days when I sink like a stone

I live my life to the same old tune
To the sun and rain and the midnight moon
I keep on smiling and repel the gloom
Days when I sink like a stone

Well after midnight my feelings in writing
Putting down words, in life I keep striving
Head above water just barely surviving
Days when I sink like a stone

Dear loved ones move on to another life
To begin again in a different light
Out of my reach and out of sight
My heart now sinks like a stone

Inspired by a Tears for Fears track called Ladybird
13/10/2012 last edit. Written 2007
 Aug 2015
Name Redacted
Oh woe were I a painter, impressionist in craft
Painting pictures in emotion, instead of photograph
Because there is no color, no brush-stroke I could sweep
That could capture her, or the wonder that she keeps.
 Aug 2015
Jessica Evans
I miss the stars
The way they used
To shine over my house.
I could lay out there for hours
Making up constellations
wishing for better days.

But alas
my wishes came true
in a city without stars,
And I'm making up constellations
From the freckles on your skin.

The hours are now spent
lying with you
Under a dark sky.
Yes I still miss the stars
But there's beauty in
Orlando Lights
on paper this looks so pretty, it made an oval :(
 Aug 2015
Rapunzoll
You dream of someplace
where the men have better
reasons for calling and you
no longer feel so alone.

Where the sun shines
without the inevitability
of the rain, where the skies
aren't blackened by the
smoke of his cigarettes.

You'll exhale the fresh air,
and you won't remember
the colour of his eyes or the
scar above his left brow.

You'll forget how he
smirked when you said
that you loved him.

You're moving on, the
past will no longer suffocate
you with the fragrance of
its cheap perfume, you'll
learn to count the days rather
than to tick them off.

One day you'll step
forward without looking
back and you'll realize
you are infinite and he is
just a glitch in time.
© copyright
 Aug 2015
Thescientist
Almost one o'clock,

                      Insomnia doesn't rock

                         Tickety- toc- doc
 Aug 2015
Thescientist
In this extreme heat,
I am suspect of people,
who wear leather coats.
 Aug 2015
The Invisible Child
I use to know a little boy
Who would get up every morning
Look in his bathroom mirror
And find a reason to smile.

Like many other kids
He was bullied,
He was bruised and laughed upon.
But despite all that
He still found a reason to get up each morning
Look in the mirror
And find a reason to smile

But like most good things,
There came an end.
For at the age of eight
This little boy lost a part of his heart.

His sister had died.
The one who took care of him
When no one else did.
The one who was there for him
When no one else could
The one who was now gone
That on one else could replace.

After that his life sundered into an abbess,
An agonizing chain of death and regrets
That this little boy received
That would put the most strong and masculine of men
Into a ball of tears in the corner.

Death of a family member
Of someone the little boy held dear
Either died, or came to a point
Where they might as well be dead.

Each time this happened
The smile in the mirror
That the little boy use to be able to form
Turned into tears, and a blank face
Until the smile came nevermore.

He had nothing left.
His heart that was once filled with joy,
Now just an empty ***** in his cheats…

One day, as the kid became older and bolder
He wrote a letter to his parents
With kind, sweet words to let them know
That he would hurt no more.

He took his parents out that day
For one last day of fun,
One last day of smiles
Upon his parents faces,
One last day to say’
“I Love you, goodbye.”

When the night came out
So did his letter
Upon his bed
As he grabbed his shotgun
And snuck out the window.

He sat out in that pasture
For what seemed like an eternity
Until the tears stopped
As he slowly loaded the barrel
Pointed it in his mouth.
Took a deep breath.
And pulled the trigger.

His body fell to the ground.
Tears coming out,
But he wasn’t crying.
No sobs came from his throat.
No movement of his body,
Other than the tears coming out of his eyes.

After what seemed like hours,
He picked himself up off the grassy ground,
Grabbed his gun that jammed up,
Snuck back into his window,
Hid the letter and gun again,
And went back to bed.

The next morning he is greeted by his parents
Who simply say, “Morning.”
Give the kid a smile and a hug
And continue with their morning routine.

After trying not to cry,
But failing after the boy walked away,
Ran to his bathroom
And looked in the mirror.

Though there were tears in his eyes
And sobs in his throat
He looked into the mirror
And found a reason to smile once again.
I only ask is that you may respectful toward this story for it is a true one. So as I said before, please be respectful and considerate toward this story.
 Aug 2015
b for short
I caught lightning in your bottle,
and I swallowed it whole.
So torrid and treacherously lit,
I became the kind of something
you taught yourself to run from.
Skin tight and white hot,
I radiate light from all angles;
buzzing with fluorescence.
With my fingertips brightening
the curves of your lips,
I trace that familiar fine line
between your fear and fascination.

In a single crack across the sky,
I will set your darkness ablaze
and leave you with
a deafening boom of clarity.
Jolted and stunned, you take in
an infinite illumination,
devouring every inch of
the unknown color and wonder
once shadowed by your thick,
murky doubt.

Blink, and it disappears
as quickly as it came to be.
What you see, you can’t forget.
As the spots dance, staccato
in front of your eyes,
you run, just as you taught yourself,
fast and far, away from the light;
disenchanted once again,
as you recall the fact that
lightning never strikes
the same place twice.
the same place twice.
© Bitsy Sanders, August 2015
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