I’d like to write a love poem.
For tea has ceased to give me joy.
And in the past, one of the only things that has,
Has been feelings for a boy.
I know that sounds pathetic,
Like Disney commercials have seized my mind,
But sometimes focussing on something lovely as opposed to my own self-loathing,
Is the only relief I can find.
I’d like to write a love poem
And yet I know I cannot.
For the boy who sees me as nothing but a game,
Is the only one my heart has got.
I’d like to write a love poem
For someone other than him
Whose head is filled with textured thoughts,
And heart is filled with kindness, to the rim
I’d like to write a love poem
Telling of how I adore
His endless eyes, his glistening soul
But his rough edges even more.
I’d like to write a love poem,
But the more I think it through
I realize that I’ll never have anyone
To address my love poem to

i tell myself
i like being alone,
there's no one to:
impress,
be with,
be ready for,
or even worry about.

but my heart
tells me i hate it
i hate being alone
there's no one to:
laugh,
to hold,
be with,
or even love.

i can't ever seem to decide
if being alone is want I need
or someone to hold me.

i don't care which one
i just want to feel whole
or at least alive.

-r.y.s

They flowed easy the tears of her
In her core was a kindness’ river
With a heart of gold a love too pure
Her bags were full with pains to endure!

Married at teen and a widow too soon
Her youth dark dimmed an eclipsed moon
Dragged to abyss and feasted upon
Bereft a blood she could call her own!

A wonder her life though ravaged much
Growing not hard she broke to the touch
Would come to grief at others’ pain
Her cheeks overflowing in sobbing rain!

As a child I felt at a time now far
On one short span spent with her
When my innocence could easily tell
Neath her frame was an earthly angel!

Wasn’t a beggar returned from door
A stray unfed to die on the road
She was there with a saving aid
Her own life though was left unpaid!

As I write this rebel locked tears
Break floodgates of long lost years
Reveals from the mist a haloed face
Of an angel of love and godly grace!

I never really thought I’d see you again, to be honest.

I feel a little underdressed for the occasion.

There you are, wearing the same Hypocrisy you have worn for years and have seriously outgrown, but you wear it still.

Then here I am, in nothing but a worn out grudge, but hey, I tried to dress it up a little with some bitterness.

I think you and I were a little too similar, actually. Maybe that’s why we fell apart, because we were just too alike. That’s one of my scarier thoughts, but definitely not the scariest.

It isn’t an impossible theory, I guess. Though I think maybe it was more like we were two different sides of the same coin, but even if that’s true, we were a coin spinning out of control, cast off, and tossed, but not away, we were tossed into a wishing well, in the hopes that maybe the water could wash away the damage. I look through the waters we wished on every day, wondering if I’ll see you through the distorted, but transparent fluid that runs through our veins like poison because even if the ink of our promises that we wrote out on flesh, as  a binding contract found its way into those dark waters of our wishing well, even it could not be as toxic as that deadly liquid we doused our loyalty in, because it was made out of wishes, and though water shouldn’t be considered equivalent to venom, never underestimate just how lethal it is, because nothing is more poisonous than something that appears pure, but is just the opposite, and truthfully, that is all you proved yourself to be.

I look through those poisoned waters made of liquid wishes and tears, but I never see you there.

Your black eyeliner was quite a change from last time I saw you, because the last year, all you did was line your eyes with Pride and Pettiness, well I’ll watch you fade off into the shadows until you become one because I don’t care anymore.

I’ll raise my hand and spread my fingers to bid you farewell so I don’t need to speak because I can’t, I’m busy choking on fire, and the smoke is leaving its trail so that if you ever want to find me, you will just need to follow the trail of ashes so that I may slam the door in your face, facing up to the fact that sometimes, even if you don’t let it go, you can stop getting involved with the burden of the past, because it’s been passed on far too many generations of different versions of myself each year.

I’m starting a new chapter, and you just don’t deserve a role in it, so when I spread those fingers, maybe the cobwebs I couldn’t bring myself to sweep away will finally blow away in the wind. The wind that is nothing but a draft coming in through the door you left open when you left just to linger in my doorway for months, well I hope I slammed your fingers in the doorframe when I finally shut it on you. You’re still waiting in the window though, naturally.

Well, my Pain and yours are a couple shades off, and I’m sort of sick of matching you anyway, so I’ll draw the curtains too, because that’s the only way to let in natural light, when the artificial lamps are outside and the candles and burning suns are indoors, away from you, after all, how could anything bright exist near someone who exudes so much forced darkness such as you?

Well, I don’t match you anymore, and thank God for that, because I certainly would look even worse than you already do dressed in that color of Hypocrisy, and just keep in mind, even though I’m wearing these grudges trimmed with bitterness, and even though that might be a pretty unflattering look for someone like me, whose very skin is woven out of Broken shards, it’s only an accessory to remind me not to forget. I wear Memories, even though you gave them to me, even though we made the together, I still like them so sure I’ll wear them, but that doesn’t really matter, because with the burdens on my wrist, I can still wear Hope.

And you never, ever will.

So maybe I’m not underdressed for this little occasion, I’m just wearing something a little out of fashion, but Hope is comfy, and I like it so that’s fine by me.

the trees gush every time you're around,
the song of your sound is the best thing in town,
the heat from your feet melt the snow on the ground

the wind whistles a warmer rushing movement
expanding out from the flush of your touch
twirling, twisting and reminiscing
this double helix kind of feeling

I'm sewing the growing knowing of rhythm around into a flowing ballroom gown
blushing a crimson kind of steam under the spotlights in my dream ~
when curtain calls as morning falls,
I take my bow and change of scene.

This is great website, and I've met some lovely writers, and I hope to I meet even more - but *** are all these preaching comments???

I've never met a writing place with so many unofficial spammy preachers!!!

I don't need ******* preaching at!!!

How do you know I need salvation - maybe I'm already saved - have you thought about that?  Or maybe I'm just a blind idiot in your opinion.  But either way your pointless unfriendly and ungodly manner has zero effect. You've never met me - you know nothing about me.  From now on anyone who spam comments and preaches on my work gets instantly blocked - use your energy elsewhere.

And here's another thought: what if what I write is called creative writing - heard of that before have you?  Not everything I write is about me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who does that.

Apologies to all the kindly beautiful writers on here - it takes a lot make me have a swearing rant, I guess I've just ruined my kind reputation.  Just had enough of the spam ****, and in my real life I NEVER tolerate idiots, and I won't here either.

I don't mind the mention of God as a personal view, I'm not God phobic, no problem with that, but just don't leave messages as though I know nothing and I need saving - I **** well don't.

Your sincerely
One very ******* writer