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david mitchell Jan 2017
I've never wanted to leave.
I've never wanted to come back.
I've never waited to stay here.

You've never wanted to stay.
You've always wanted to come home.
You've always waited to leave, though.
david mitchell Jan 2017
Crippling ideas and curiosities spark my emotional engine to turn long forgotten gears back into action as I look at pictures of her.
The soft lips softly speaking words that were violently engraved into my thoughts, ironically contrasting the simple meaning, helping me remember and overthink them yet again, months after she ruined me.
this is ****** and shouldn't have been written. i hate this poem.
david mitchell Jan 2017
The night sky,
Never fades to black,
As many think their souls do,
It just fades to a darker shade of bright blue.
don't be optimistic
david mitchell Jan 2017
Feeling memories of soft voices floating across the arid forests that are my memories of you,
Through the bleak terrain I see you, and your all too elusive smile.
Please come back, I think it'd be wonderfully unhealthy for my state of mind.
It's not often someone says "I love you." without thinking they mean it, but I think I do.
Trance-like remembrances of curly hair and deep thoughts permeate my head,
And I cannot help but wish that life was something that it is not,
Because it is worth the while, through mind's eye staring at your ghost.
i hate me
david mitchell Jan 2017
In my heart I often find,
Sleepless nights and,
Seedless flowers,
Cloudy skies and,
Memories that were ours.
This is one of my favorites but it's lost it's bitterness to me
david mitchell Jan 2017
Curly hair,
Soft skin,
Those things I remember,
Of my Once Upon a Time.


Eyes that were deep,
Cold and yet inviting.
Waiting on gentle fingers,
For one small sign.


That curl of the lock,
Soft as the skin,
All of it I miss,
Of my Once Upon a Time.
This poem used to taste sour
david mitchell Jan 2017
Soldiers stand, corralled like sheep,
Peaceful times turn to violence,
Even at night I cannot sleep,
And in this time there is no silence.
I wrote this in grade 8, I don't like it very much
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