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Devon Lane Oct 2014
Forgive,
forget,
heartbreak's only antidote.
Unto chains of despair  
I became one
with solid ground.
Only to realize,
if the world was an oyster
than I must be a pearl.

Liberation struck me like a train,
abrupt, showing no mercy,
leaving the tracks a little messy.

Indulging someone else is going to feel
like conducting
after a life altering derailment.
Uncomfortable,
unsafe.

Nevertheless,
I'll bottle up my remedy,
with the intention of your freedom,
but with the hope
that you'll always remember
your Annabelle Lee.
It's time to let go.
Devon Lane Oct 2014
You could put a bullet through my brain, and I'd still miss you in hell.
Devon Lane Dec 2014
I listen to the rain,
how it falls steadily, surely.
Precipitation has a single purpose.
Not to be danced under,
not to be kissed under,
nor to be sung under.
Rain falls solely because
no one is there to catch it.
Everything is impressionable,
hearts especially.
Don't let the rain mold you
down to earth with it's
incurable loneliness.
Look up into the
teary vastness,
hold your arms out wide,
and let go.
Devon Lane Nov 2018
You taught me how to fear my own darkness.

So leave the light on before you go.
Can't shake my bones of you.
Devon Lane Jan 2022
Stretch your wings into the city.

Let the smoke fill your hollow chest.

**** yourself in the mirror.

Equality sleeps with justice in death.
XYZ
Devon Lane Nov 2018
XYZ
We move to the rhythm of the city
Beating to the waves of adrenaline, never pity.

I need to hold you close, this affliction is impossible to diagnose.

Trying to comprehend and begging Gods and Monsters that tonight will never end.

Our Sonic Youth cannot be contained,
Electronic and unashamed.

With brains that bleed idiosyncratically and make magic with words or a pen,

Hands that turn a gin and tonic into something drastically more chronic.

The solution to the problem is that the cause is quite solemn.

Leave everything behind for a new place;  taste your favorite stranger's face.

Let them know that their perfume can light up a whole room.

We're searching for the people we've been our whole lives, in structures we do not recognize.

Know that most women that dream only survive on nicotine,

Slow Dancing in the Dark just to feel Nevermore than a spark.

This is how it feels to be unreal, when your entire body becomes brittle steel.

Don't let the season tantalize your demons.

If you can feel your own unapologetic heart, realize that this is just the start.

And when you're tired of leaving, run.
Devon Lane Jan 2022
I wonder what it feels like to be the earth under a stroke of lightning.

A close range bullet wound from the love of your life?

Green crust curls around the energy like my hairy goosebumps around your fingers.

Earth and sky clinging so heavily to one another.

To be ripped apart, neither would survive.

Essential primary chaos.  

Pain so devastating is only natural.

Love so tender never felt more excruciating.

Is it symbiosis if only one party can be completely destroyed by the other?

Her eyes open and wreak havoc on my delicate armor of vegetation.

She feeds me all the same.

I carry both of these truths responsibly, a concealed weapon.

Emotion coursing through my veins, a final meal of electricity.

I absorb the impact into my fleshy carbon layers.

Waiting for the day she can soak up the same.
Will she find order within my disorder?
Devon Lane Mar 2017
There are so many reasons to leave.

Tar sits on my lungs like a winter coat.

Philadelphia is colder than your shoulders.

You tell me to stop smoking.

I’d run out naked in a snowstorm just to feel your goosebumps against mine.

I don’t know how to tell you

I'm looking for a reason to stay.
Devon Lane Sep 2018
Now, I have experienced several
types of love in my youth. Fiery, quiet,
and the kind that's mixed with a dose of
vermouth.

Though, I have grown tired
of ideas of settling down.
I fear to live a life
uninspired.

This kind of love, unexciting.
I prefer a poison,
some would say, is more
inviting.

A kind of love that tastes like fire,
where living our dreams
is most definitely
required.

I feel as though it is time to try
a new sensation.
This is unfortunately not a drunken
revelation.

Though I leave one pint behind,
be it trivial to most,
I believe I have found the right
Kind.
This is a ****** poem about self love

— The End —