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 Nov 2014
Drin Tashi
There is a place I can't stop thinking about
thinking how  special it was to me
There is a feeling I feel picturing someone else there
someone else feeling the way I used to

It was her special little place
and I know someone else before me was there also
I was her special little company there
and I wanted to be the last one sharing the place

I know it better than the person after me
touching the skin I used to touch
I know it better than the person sitting there
seeing the sights I used to see

Her special little place became our special little place
but now it's gone
Her special little place became my special little memory
but now it's gone
 Nov 2014
ryn
.    _ _
     /   /  
  /  /  
 ||
    
enticed by   \\  the alluring
promise of everlasting sweetness•i had
shed all trepidation to indulge in this lone
songstress•hanging on its own, just enough
within my arm's length•seemed so easy but
a formidable test of strength•i had reached
and plucked without in mind, the doubt of
myth•held it for an instant before sinking
in my teeth•it's the sole mouthful that
had brought about this perpetual
racking cough•it's the apple...
that i should've never taken
a big bite        out of...•
Fix Me?
Can
You
Just maybe
But
I'm insane
I think...
Sometimes

Brain
Fill my
Thoughts
Backward

I'm really trying
Just bare with me
Please
So easily
Breaks
My heart

Trust issues
I have
I know...
Confusing
Been so
Has always
You
About
**Everything
I sound like Yoda, Huh?
Try reading it bottom to top (left to right), the way it was originally written. :)
 Nov 2014
Olivia Kent
Hiding in silence.
No words be spoken and tales never told.
Secrets hidden in the curled up pages of a tan tainted book.
The lost hide within.
Ran under my skin.
True eruption of passion as written words break.
Life's sustenance stuck between the sticky centre pages where they dwell.
Escapism urged on with the pen.
It's written.
The demons left.
Wave them goodbye with a white handkerchief.
Your self is finally resting like a dove at peace.
(C) Livvi
 Nov 2014
Haydn Swan
We are the ones who paint with words
thoughts and feelings soaring like birds,
horrors, dreams and things of the night
indelibly scribed for your delight

furrowed brows are forced to think
in pastel shades and jet black ink
scrawled in haste in an hour of need
raw nerves scraped until they bleed,

there is no cure or magic pill
we lost our freedom to the quill  
slicing our souls down to the bone
to leave a legacy carved in stone.
 Nov 2014
Andrew Durst
In this world you're
either the writer
or the reader;
the creator or
the receiver.

And school never worked
out too-well
for me.
It was a random idea that I thought I should jot down. Enjoy.
 Nov 2014
Rupal
That which gives fragrance...

where does the fragrance go
when it rots...

Is my being...

an ecstatic sobriety
or
a sober drunkenness...

I wonder...
 Nov 2014
ryn
.

I've stared...
Longingly forever into you
You'd stare back but you never really knew
Hands of hours, minutes and seconds I've shook
All the time I've carelessly took

I've witnessed...
That etched on each one, that amazing smile
A crutch forged of sunrays that had carried me many a mile
It's all that I have to know of you
In this endless chase I've sought to pursue

I've envisioned...
Different ways you'd wear your crown
Various trimmings on lavish gowns
Smitten by the way you sport your paint
The nectarous song sung in your gait ever so faint

I've imagined...
The addictive rise and fall of your every breath
Bringing me back to life after every death
Pulses of sweet nothings that never did ebb
Ensnaring my heart with your silk spun web

I've believed...
You are the queen of my future tale untold
I've felt it so real like verses written in bold
But I've awakened from slumber into terrifying reality
Pains me to realise that you're nothing but imaginary...
 Nov 2014
Nicole Ann Sandoval
My mind is a canyon where your voice echoed.
I wish you belonged to me but I think that's what I like most.
That you're not meant to be owned.
And maybe it's wrong of me to wish for you on falling stars.
Maybe It's childish.
But it's so rare to meet someone who knows who they are.
and I don't care what anyone thinks they know.
they do not know you.
And I'm determined to show you I can be all that you need.
I want the best for you, wanting you for myself is simply out of greed
because I know you can do better.
and with every letter I write in each word in each line while you're on my mind is important.
my writing gets distorted at night but every A, B and C is hope
that you might take another look at me.
And maybe see something in me worth saving.
as of now my heart's been replaced with wooden shavings
And the tree that they came from is nothing but a stump
I get a lump in my throat just thinking of how I **** everything I love.
Because I give my whole heart.
And I love things to death.
So I shouldn't be surprised to see that they left.
But I almost always am.
And I don't know how to start the grief process.
when no one is as lost as I am.
I wish you would find me
I've stayed where you left me.
defiantly,
more shaken then I was before.
When you awaken with my scent in your empty bed,
Do you just sleep on the floor?
Do you even know me anymore?
are you torn between not knowing and not caring.
because I'm staring at the walls wishing there was a way to get to you, a way out of here.
it appears that I'm trapped. If these walls could talk they'd be full of crap because all they do is keep me from living.
and the life they're giving me isn't life it's just a safe way to survive.
Because a free spirit shouldn't be confined.
And I'm fed up,
with being fed and given water, shelter and love
like that should be more than enough.
but I love my parakeet.
i give it food and water so it should happily tweet.
But it's still a caged bird like me.
The only thing I truly need is to be free.
and freedom is hard to come by.
you're the only one who's showed me some.
and I don't want this thing to die.
my mind is a canyon where your voice echos
my eyes are canyons full of the tears I haven't let go.
My lungs are canyons full of smoke.
and my hollow laughs at life's sick jokes.
I'm a canyon, quite simply
I'm empty
empty
empty



© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
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