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cyanide skies Sep 2015
hello was all it took
to fall in love with the boy
whose eyes change color with every kiss
enticing me to stare into them
trying to figure out a constant hue
never ending kisses
and a backdrop of sunset shades
cyanide skies Aug 2015
i like to start off poems
with a sort of unsettled sometimes
because the absence of strict time progression
seems more abstract.
but maybe i
with my broken keys
stuck without caps lock
should maybe realize
that seeming more abstract
isn't the point.
i like to start off poems
with a sort of unsettled sometimes
because i can't immediately come to grips
with the sort of starry wording
i need to describe the way the constellations
align in my heart, only sometimes
*all the time
cyanide skies Aug 2015
I looked for a good morning
under a sky that didn't feel right
the meteor showers can't end
just because night has
and daylight has broken
broken out
of the chrysanthemum cage
the starry starry night
had put in place
and when my good morning eclipsed
into a wilted noon
I decided to wait
wait out the day
and it slipped right by me
so I looked for a good night
and the night wasn't
as starry starry
as it had been before
but the meteors were still there
awaiting my delicate eyes
and when I saw the trail of fire
I knew I'd receive
a beautiful good morning.
cyanide skies Aug 2015
she smelled like clementines
the year the winter became floral
and when the springtime cropped
up skeletons of flowers
she couldn't use her imagination and
they told her it was fine they
told her that was that
and this was this
and it was time for the winter
to stop blooming
who had ever heard of a floral winter, anyway?
so she packed away those
ideas of flight
and the winters became poison ivy
winding, wrapping themselves
spineless but wicked
around and around until they rested there
right there in her chest
choking her heart.
cyanide skies Aug 2015
"There's an art to it."
She says as she
flicks the end
of her cigarette
into the dirt.
"To what?"
She sighs,
grinding the cigarette
into the ground
with the heel
of her shoe.
"Destroying yourself."
and he never stopped her.
cyanide skies Aug 2015
he's asked for
a cigarette

but he doesn't smoke
turns out his pockets
and is shot dead
in a pool of misplaced caution
tinged red
veins expelling
voices garbling
until there is darkness
because there is no heaven
and there is no hell

there's only the misplaced caution
of a man who never smoked
in a world of gunpoint and demand.
cyanide skies Jul 2015
those three little words
that took so long for her to say
made not a **** difference.
she looked at the floor, studying
the grain of the dark wood
and she felt the waves
of his braying laughter
and she flinched
she flinched ******* it
as if she were afraid
afraid of him spitting the words
right back at her
but this
this was worse
so when those three little words
it was all for the better
and she stood over
the man whom had laughed
loud, braying laughter
in the face of her love
right there
on the dark wood floor
and she said three new words.
*I killed him.
bullets mcr makes me violent.
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