"i don't feel like talking to you"
that hurts
and i didn't do anything wrong
you have no right
to get mad at
me
we broke up
you broke up
with me
and he misses me
you have a girlfriend
don't get mad at me
because my ex
misses me
you're my ex too
and i still had feelings
for you
and you had the god
**** nerve to bring up girls
you like
in front of me
when i still had
feelings for you
honestly,
if you can just ignore me so easily
i don't think we should
be around
each other.




m.g.

I want our words to make love
Let us wine and dine in pen
Ill kiss you from the page
We'll create no biblical sins

So poetic
that my physical is pathetic
I mean I fumble words around you
But when I create, I'm no fool

Subdue you
underneath you
I'll ***** you
Make your feet move

Give you shakespear cues
Show you which way to play
As I write out scenes of love
That last for hours into days

I'm no genius Just a lover
That gets off to syllables
I passion write in purple
Cause the red is full of bulls

Let our I's Collide
As we make human i Ts
Saving Graces for our diner
for in each other we both feed

I'm sure to say I do
If you read a little deeper
But don't read too fast
‘cause I'm know to be a sleeper

Silence is my killer
Verbal language is my gun
As I have no set targets
go on killing sprees for fun

Im a ******
Leaving men lifeless in bedrooms
Bathrooms, car seats, tee pees and Breakrooms
Let us have a pow wow

For I'll empty life into you
Birth a new princess
All in the way she touched you
While leaving no finger prints

Let Our words
make Love
Feel Death
and Receive Life

For I Created this to tell you
I want your soul tonight
but every time you'll read this
You'll know that love is Write



anon & m.g.

my soul has
grown tired
and functioning
has become hard
I'm like a broken
machine
i can function
but i can't do it
right
its broken
the memories of you and i
and when the memories broke
the machine did
now if you didn't understand,
the machine is a metaphor,
and that metaphor,
is me.
i am
the machine.
i am
the metaphor.




m.g.

and i think the saddest part is
that i thought i had a chance
with someone like you
the thought that
you might be different with me
the thought that
you might go for someone like me
these are just the few lot
of many thoughts
i have when loneliness
consumes me
but all they are, are thoughts
that disappear with the image
of me and you.




m.g. & a.o

m.g

“i just don’t think its working.”
she mumbled
but the words did not come
through clearly,
the words were like mud
thrown against a clean window
it cleans off eventually
but never sticks
he sighs
and when he sighed
the whole world
exhaled with him
the whole world
released all pent up anger,
frustration
and took some time
for itself
his love for her is like
a river
on going
ever flowing
non stopping,
she keeps him going
she keeps him safe
just by the touch of her warm
embrace.


m.g.

When I first saw her,
God, I didn’t know what took over me,
She was a picture of pure beauty,
The closest to heaven I felt I’ll ever be,
I got to know her a few days later,
We met in the park, full of valentine haters
She gave me a small smile, mines stretched to a mile,
I offered her dinner; she said that sounds fine,
She’d met me at 7, for a swig of wine,
Of course I already felt woozy, she was intoxication
A bottle full of inebriation,
I felt my knees go weak when I saw her,
A beauty like no other,
I booked the expensive restaurant
Bought the most expensive wine,
Even bought myself a suit,
As though if it were a crime,
To not let someone like her, get the best in the world
And when I met her at 7 sharp,
She seemed to stop time,
She took the air out of me,
****, I could say was hey,
She gave a tinkling laugh and said that her name was May,
I thought, what a fine name, for such a girl,
Her eyes were diamonds, her hair in all curls,
Around her neck was a single pearl,
We had a good night; we drank till we were doozy,
We laughed till we choked
And then devil had to come and stop all the fun,
“April” he said “what are you doing here”
“Her names not April, its May” I did argue
“No, my names April” she smirked “Get me quite away from this ****”
My mouth fell to somewhere in the middle of the earth,
I had felt my love for her was bulletproof
But she was the one who shot me
And watching her walk away, I did wonder
Why was she here drinking all the red wine?
She was perhaps my intoxicated valentine,
The one who I didn’t deserve,
She’s gonna leave me in quarantine,
She left me with this horrible disease,
And I don’t think it will ever cease
She was my evil intoxicated valentine
She was my bitter intoxicated valentine.

f.f. & m.g.

m.g.

slowly
she fades
into oblivion
her style changes
she no longer wears
bright colors
and tanktops
now its just
long sleeves
dark colors
anything to hide the hurt
on her wrists
her smile is fading too
her eyes
have lost that
gleeful smile,
yet know one
has noticed.


m.g.

he walks
alone
in the corridor
of the large school
everyone
stares at
him
his clothes
his hair
his glasses
he was not
that
different
he just
felt differently
about boys
he loved them
sometimes he loved the
one boy
more than he could
ever love
himself.


m.g.

slowly
I've been keeping my feelings to
myself
every "i'm okay" has been a lie
and inside
parts of me
are chipping
away
like the old white paint
along the fence of
an old house
when the subtle brown wood is starting
to show through
though instead
the white paint is my happiness
and the brown wood
is my sadness.


m.g.

does perfection define us?

is it worth the trouble

worth crying at night

because you are not

'perfect'?

the cliché "no one is perfect"

is a lie.

because when i wake up everyday,

i see a perfect girl

a perfect boy

and realize how imperfect

i am

i realize how much more of a loser

i've become.

i realize that the only thing

that made me imperfect

are the thoughts that run through my head.

the over thinking

that I've taken, now as a best friend;

a poison that i can not live without.



i understand that

the only thing standing between

me and perfect

is merely

me.




L.A.M & m.g.

you're hurting me
please realize
i stopped telling you things
so you would stop worrying
because I'm nothing to worry about
you deserve better than me
a low life piece of trash
realize that
and one day I'm going to be gone
and please stop whispering about me
when I'm right next to you
it hurts me
and don't look at me
like i mean nothing to you
i understand why
you called her
we moved past that
indeed we did
but you need to understand
where i come from
though we don't agree upon
the same things
you don't have
to hurt me
i understand what i did was wrong
and i apologize
and i realize i can't  fix the damage I've done
but I'm hurting inside
and even though i can't say it
i need you
but i guess you don't need me.



m.g.

don’t dive
if
you’re not
ready
to swim.


m.g.

i hate how
i paint my nails
for someone
who doesn't care



m.g.

you always wanted
your bones to show
and i quite
never understood why


when a hug will
snap you in half
and the light spring breeze
we all adored
will blow you away


people will not
love you more
when there is less of you
to love.

k.p.k & m.g.

m.g.

sometimes its the affection
that matters
more than the
love,
y'know?

affection is something we all
crave
humans need affection
to live,
maybe the reason we stay
with the ones who hurt us most,
is because in times of darkness
they show us
affection.

m.g.

my sunshine faded to shade.

my stars fell into their graves.

my moonlight grew dimmer, craving more.

my planets stopped revolving.

my entire sky fell to pieces before my eyes.


e.a. & m.g.

He exhaled again, trying to regain stable breathing. They gazed into each other’s eyes, staring with desire and need to get to know each other more. Tension building, sparks flying, and the rising heat within the outside corridor. Eyes wander, looking to see the little movements caused by each other's nervousness. Fingers twitch, eyes blink, and smiles emerge. They are both plagued with each of these significant actions. Imaginations flare as the thought what would happen if just a single touch was to be made? Would all self control break down in an instant? Stalled on the edge and the thought of giving away seemed so appetizing. Risking the consequences would never feel as good as it would now. A small touch would be explosive. It would ignite the passion and spiral out into a raging inferno. It would take countless efforts to put out such a flame. But he knew it was too soon.



m.g.

i fell in love with him
like the way
that blood moves
through the body
in waves,
but she had
always been around him
and now he was mine,
stay away from him
what is mine
is mine.

“I'm in love with you," he said quietly.

"Augustus," I said.

"I am," he said. He was staring at me, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I'm in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we'll ever have, and I am in love with you.”


j.g. & m.g.

i sing songs about the
past
how i was raised
and i was thrown out
on my ***
because i didn't care
about going to school,
i saw the look in her
eyes
my mother nearly cried
when i told her
that i wanted to
go
just to prove them
wrong,
i've been smoking
cigarettes since
i was only 14
just to find an escape
from this town that was so
mean to
me.

nsn. m.g.

why must
the saddest of people
be the ones
who get
hurt
the most?
it is not exactly
fair
you see,
they are hurt
they must be healed,
but some wounds
do not want to close
and choose
to remain
open
and raw.

m.g.

frankly, i find it so stupid that everything depends on 'likes.' yes, i understand that it is teenage female nature to get upset when your Instagram post does not reach more than 20 'likes', but there is so much more to life than this. also, i see that this website, this very one, also depends on likes. i honestly could care less if i got 0 likes on each post. i don't do this to please people, i write to please myself. i write for me, i write to make me happy. and my happiness actually matters. i just feel like i needed to say this.


m.g.

m.g.

hello, my friends. i would love to thank you all for enjoying my writing. A special thank you to Liam, because he always has lovely comments to post. you're all such talented people, and i am honored to read such lovely pieces of writing. i love how we all just come together on a big writing community and blatantly express our emotions within the art we know as writing. yes, i said writing is art. writing is a type of art in which there is no paint, no oil pastel, nothing. the art is in the beholder. keep writing, because we are the hope of the next generation of authors.


m.g.

slowly
I've grown less
hungry
I've stopped eating
but  no one is to know
i am supposed to be
strong
for you, my love,
i have to show you
that i'm okay
and that you don't have
to worry about
me
and my petty life
anymore
i'm trying to become beautiful
because i know that
im not.


m.g.

to be honest, my darling,
im frightened without you
I'm literally sitting here
frightened
of myself
my emotions
me
and you are the one who always claims that
you love me
but where are you
when i need you the most?
it's funny how
even your best friend makes time for me
and you're too busy
probably with another girl
another girl who doesn't have weird anxiety issues
that get her admitted into hospitals
and dumb **** like that
hahaha but you always tell me that
you would never
but how am i supposed to trust someone who
is never ******* around?



m.g.

oh my god
i miss you
i miss the way
you'd say
"Hi, baby. I missed you."
oh my god
i miss that so much
i miss your sweet words
your soft lips
i miss your
lovely hair
i miss your beautiful green eyes
and you said that you miss me
you don't know
how much that meant to me
you brought out the best in me
a part of me I've never
seen
and i know
i know
that you won't hurt me again
and if you do
i don't think i'll forgive you this time.





m.g.

do you believe                                   i would be known
as i believe                                         as known as
what there is                                      knowing you can be
is all there is?                                     by you
                                                             who knows
                                                           ­  how knowing is
do you believe                                  that knows
as i believe                                         no knowing.
that we are
more than we                                   and i would know
yet know?                                         as known as
                                                           knowing can be
                                                           the you
do you believe                                 who keeps me
as i believe                                        from knowing
you are                                              the you
who i would know                         who knows
and i am                                            nothing.
who you would know
so you can be
what you are
and i can be
what i am?





m.g. & f.k.

i know
the feeling
of the cold
blade
feels good
against
your skin
but it’s not healthy
my dear
it’s no good for you
it will just leave
ugly markings
along your body
making you wallow
in the pain
you used to harbor.

m.g.

i wish someone would write me a love letter in french. the kind that entail the small things i did that i would never be able to notice on my own. how i trace letters into my palm with my opposite hand when someone is speaking. how the corner of my mouth rises when i attempt to smile at someone politely. also, because french is a beautiful language. it's **** and passionate, as cliché as that may come across. je t'aime d'une manière que les mots ne peuvent pas décrire.

"hey"

"yeah?"

"you're still beautiful,"

"thanks."

"welcome."

I've just realized how alone i am.

im glad we're talking
truly am
but I'm worried about something
am i just another one of the girls
you throw away and forget
sure,
you remind me I'm special and you care,
but could that so easily be thrown
away?
cast aside for me to constantly
wonder
what happened?
I'm just.
i don't know.



this was dumb

bye

what the **** is going on

when we meet
i can picture it
you're sweaty after giving your all onstage
but i don't care
you're waiting for me
nervously turning your head
in all directions
after some time,
i walk in
and we lock eyes
your green eyes meeting my brown ones
you stand up,
and start to run
i run as well,
i jump and wrap
my legs around your torso,
as you hold me close,
and suddenly
we both feel safe.


m.g.