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 Mar 2017 Kevin
Gidgette
Wanderess
 Mar 2017 Kevin
Gidgette
I walk these streets,
of which, I don't belong
Ever carrying the scent of
Death,
and vintage whisky
A visceral and demented
MayBerry hell
Still,
It is here, in which I dwell
Everyone plays their part,
Pays their bills
Me?
A mere ghost
haunting these wooded hills
A house,
I possess  
Home,
I lack
I wander
Alone
I belong no where
Everywhere
Just not here
And so.....

I wander
And belong to no one
A wanderess.......

~A
It's my birthday. It rains.....
 Mar 2017 Kevin
Hannah
Learn to love being alone.
Learn to love who you are.
Learn to love your body.
Learn to love your mind.
Learn to love.
Just learn.
~ Just learn ~
 Mar 2017 Kevin
Aeerdna
There's a storm inside me
it starts every time I hear your laughter in the night,
when I think about the way we changed
from human beings
to some people who can only share
some words written on a cold page;

it's hard to explain how is it that I miss you
when I've never really had you in the first place
and you wouldn't understand
you see
your heart has long forgotten about feelings like these.

still

I hear your voice calling my name
I see you before my eyes
even in my dreams I write you in bleeding lines
and in my waking hours
your smile brings raindrops in my coffee
and tears on the shirt I wear
because once you said that you liked it;


spring brings tulips at my doorstep
but it's hard to feel their perfume
to let their scent in my broken lungs;

people tell me that all I have to do
is breathe



but it's hard to breathe without crying.
 Mar 2017 Kevin
Gidgette
I was in the cemetery again, this noon
Dandelion graves and lost stones
Dwelling atop a hidden hill
Deep within the pines
Not my cemetery
Not ancient
I laid
Upon a certain grave
It had my name
Amanda
One of only two stones with
Still visible words
Unwashed by
Time
She was only 17, passing
Married, buried
With child
Baby
A long lost to time
Child bride
Of the
1800's
For her to be in that particular cemetery
She had to be a soldiers wife
Confederate, rebel
I mourned her
The stone residing next to hers
was worn by wind and time
A dandelion grave
~A
Cemeteries are a morbid habit of mine. The particular cemetary I speak of here, is called Boot Hill. A civil war cemetery. Amanda's grave was one of very few female graves I've found in war graveyards. Her stone said,"With her child." And indeed, as early as it is in this season, that cemetery was covered with dandelions.
 Mar 2017 Kevin
Yasmine
writing
 Mar 2017 Kevin
Yasmine
through words,
I heal my wounds
by completely exposing them
 Mar 2017 Kevin
Gidgette
If it makes you feel any better,
I'm not happy
My life is lonely
I can't help how I look

The number of friends I have
You can count on three fingers
One of which is my house keeper
Paid friend

I've loved, but never known the feeling of being loved
I can't grace the world with another child
My legs no longer permit me the beauty of dance
I'm a former coke addict, current drunk

I cry too much and whine the world full
I deny myself the joy of colour in my wears

I'm a *****
No, I've not had any "plastic surgery"
I am that I am
Another anonymous mammal

I intake too much caffeine
Lately too much nicotine
I cuss and have fits
Tantrums,
As I am right now

Yea,
Just another anonymous mammal
I've gotten messages as of late saying that the only reason anyone reads my junk or bothers to "like" my words is because of my picture. This pained me for a bit. But I'm not taking my picture down. I'm no "**" and all I want to do is read and write poetry. In peace. I won't hide like a little girl behind a block button. So keep em coming, all the hateful messages and words. I give my real name and face here. That's the way it stays.
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