Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Aug 2016 liza
Jasmine Sylvia
The ringing inside of your head has been going on for months now. There used to be music but the chords haven’t made any sense to you since the silence began. The emptiness drones on, its own form of white noise. You stand still, like you're waiting for a bus that isn’t going to come. Even if it does you know you’re going to be the only passenger. And yet you’re there because a part of you thinks it’ll bring you back to a spot where you're still 8 years old. A time when the only thing you loved more than your dog was the way he liked to chase his tail in circles. Do you ever tell people what it felt like when he ran away and never came back? Or maybe you’re so used to being abandoned by now and that’s why you leave people cold for a living. It’s much safer than the alternative of waking up and realizing the left side of your bed is empty before you are able to say goodbye. That’s why you sleep alone. That’s why the last person to visit your apartment at night was the neighbor who needed to borrow some milk. Too bad he didn’t know you were harboring ghosts in your closest. The priest would come and bless them away if only you could learn to make new friends. Do you keep them because they tell you what you want to hear? Or is it because they remind you of all the crimes you committed, the hearts you ripped out in cold blood and forgot to give back? A long list of apologies that never made it past the answering machine. You must’ve been born without a reflex that allowed you to wait past the tone. And it doesn’t help at this point that you don’t even know your own name. It stopped sounding the same when your dad wasn’t there to say it anymore. The first casualty you endured, the first crack that would eventually break all of your bones. I guess it’s hard to build a home when the only one you'd ever known chewed and spit you out like a flavorless piece of gum. And now you’re all alone in a bed that’s made for two. Nobody seemed to warn you that setting yourself on fire won’t keep you warm at night.
 Aug 2016 liza
Charlie
Heartbreak once again
Longing for your warm embrace
Hopeless fantasy.
 Sep 2015 liza
Mahdiya Patel
When i wrote about you , I always used metaphors regarding the worldly elements.

This was because my mind could not comprehend your beauty,
It always used to associate it with something close-by ...

Like  your passion and how it soared harder than the wind , or the tone of your voice in the late hours of the night, it was course and hard like grains of sand.
Or how when we held hands , our skin glided above our bones like slow rivers flowing downhill.

I still cannot comprehend your beauty ...or the fact that something as astonishing as the brightest star could be as destrustrive as the most frustrated fire .
 May 2015 liza
Danzel
You leaned in close and said,
"There is no lull before the storm"
You warned me about the wrath of gods like you,
That you were born with lightning inside
And this is why when you cry,
A terrible flood sweeps across the land

I hold you near and the earth is shaking beneath our feet
You said, "You are the lull before the storm,"
And you kiss me like thunder, you kiss me hard
That I am a mountain leveled flat

And this is why your heart is not mine –
That when I leave,
I cannot take it with me
Like Mjolnir in Thor’s hand,
A heart is like a hammer
A poem based on Thor, the god of lightning and thunder in Norse mythology
 Feb 2015 liza
rosie
dusty
 Feb 2015 liza
rosie
I hate to break this
to you, my dear
but you are no bigger
than the dust
on my bathroom floor
and you say you
still care, but I know
you always
wanted her more.*



Copyright ©  2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
old poem but the feeling is still present
I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.

Then, that day arrived and it was so **** hard but the next was harder. I knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse, and I wasn't going to be okay for a very long time.

Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I pick up your favorite coffee mug, whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my laundry pile.

I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you, when I wish I could tell you about my day. And in the morning, **when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheet, I begin to lose you all over again.
This is one of my favorite Lang Leav's write. Just wanted to share here for i'm having the same feeling now. :)

Because I'm in awe of her. And of you.
 Feb 2015 liza
Molly
When you decided to stop smoking
you kept buying cigarettes,
still carried them around in the
pocket of your jeans
but told yourself that
every time you lit one
you'd have to put it out on your hand,
and so you savored every moment
that smoke rushed through your lungs,
let them all burn down to the ****
before you took a deep breath
and pressed it against your palm.
You still smoke.
 Feb 2015 liza
Joshua Haines
You're not in love,
you just like
entertainment.
Blood boiling,
tense muscles
put your mind
at ease.

You're not kissing,
you just like
the gesture of hope:
the softer the lips
the harder it is
to walk away.

You quote their texts
like you're quoting
scripture.
The tweets you study
cause your heart
to freeze.

You're like a god
without a people:
You're looking
for anyone
to believe
in you.

I dreamt about
a ****** t.v.
movie.
I put myself
in a lover's shoes.
I said, "You're
not that lonely
but you like
the attention.
And I guess
I'd like to
give it
to you."
Next page