kinda me - Hello Poetry

Mar 2015

Liz And Lilacs

Do people actually fall in love?
I've never wanted to dance
in the road in a rain shower
with a man so beautiful
he makes my chest hurt.

No one has ever made
my heart skip a beat,
except when it was fear.

Do people actually fall in love?
It all seems like lust to me.
Lust is such an empty thing.
Love is supposed to be warm,
Burning hot, even.
It's supposed to make you feel full.
But lust is all I see,
Like a match,
Intense and fiery,
But fleeting.

It's not love.

Feb 2015

Claire Elizabeth

Summer

I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can stand in a big open field and look up at the sky with the sun setting in the West, slipping down the trees and through holes in the horizon until it's bled away into the atmosphere.

*I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can stand on a hill at dusk and breath in the air that smells faintly like brush fire and soft woodsmoke, tinted with the summery tang of ripening fruit; peaches to be exact.

I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can wake up on the early mornings where the fog veils the trees like wispy lace, scented like lavender and rain, mixing the air like watercolours, swirling pinks and blues and purples together to create a pallet.

I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can sit on my front porch and watch the sky explode with lightning during a thunderstorm, illuminating the fronts of houses and my driveway, drenching everything in purple and white light.

I can't wait for the summer again when:
I can be free.

Dec 2014

Devon Webb

7 Reasons Why It's Hard Being a Poet

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.

We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

It's worth it though.

Dec 2014

Greyson Fay

My Addictions

myaddiction

I'm addicted to love.
And
I'm addicted to blond hair.
And
the color blue.
and
I'm addicted to the smell of smoke.
And
I'm addicted to the way I feel around you.
And
I'm addicted to green eyes.
And
Im addicted to sunshine.
And
warmth.
I'm addicted to sadness.
And
I'm addicted to hiding.

But most of all.

*I'm addicted to being alone.

#myaddiction

Dec 2014

Sky

My Body Is A Garden

My body is a garden, but that does not mean I'm flourishing.

A tight cluster of pale white peonies
hold together something beautiful
but what a **** shame it’s so fragile

Because there’s a hell lot more.
Those peonies are only a layer
to the millions of roses underneath,
and above a field of scattered poppy seeds

a dash of meadow rue shows how I fell down
and maybe just maybe seeping through
a gorgeous burgundy zantedeschia
will sprout from my wrist if I happen to fall apart.

Purple velvet petunias are blooming
under my eyes and my lips are full and
cracked as a fringed tulip. My eyes,
a deep blue barlow as if it meant anything.

Of course know that I have described
myself as a pretty little bouquet
Don’t I feel beautiful now?
Or is it only masking the truth with
some pretty little words?

My body may be a garden, but that does not mean I'm flourishing.

Not everything is what it seems

#sad #depression #flowers #beauty #skin #deep #irony

Dec 2014

Some Person

The Mating Game

you say
this
I look at you like
that
make a joke
here
a brush across the hand
there
a smile
a laugh
a text
a kiss
and I'm bored
I see the moves
as they occur
before they unfold
I know just what
you're going to do
what you're going to say
and what I'm supposed to
and I'm bored
I'm ******* bored

Dec 2014

Natalie

do not date a girl who writes

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.