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gd Mar 2014
Mb.
You brought out the worst
in me, but boy did
it make some
**** good
poetry.

gd
gd Mar 2014
Just another
drink they
whisper and
they think
                                  "what a waste of innocence, when                      
                                    you can gain some confidence."
                        
Just a little sip,
sweet taste and
blood red lips -     
                                    another for the road even                                  
                          ­          after everything they've told,                          
you'll just stumble
for a boy who might
just leave you cold.

gd
gd Mar 2014
You no longer cause hurricanes in my heart
like you used to with the bat of your eyes,
and I've realized I've grown tired
of the way you walk in short strides.

I'm tired of the lingering vowels in the way you speak,
and the distant silence you keep between us on purpose.
I can't fathom how I fell for your
selfish words and pungent scent.

I was so lost in love
(such a foul, sickening word indeed)
to even realize you would lead me
down the path of quite the opposite.

Your actions were misconstrued because your eyes
wandered where I could never dare to look -
past the deadly wood, into another realm where you
built a marble fence around, blocking me off entirely.

How much time I wasted trying to knock that wall over
when it could have been used for my own self-worth.
All the time I spent trying to make you happy,
whilst you did nothing but cause me sadness.

Such noble attributes of a prince
to leave his kingdom in the midst of a war,
leaving his lover to sort through the clutter,
and pay the price for being a "bother".

gd
Goodbye. You did me no good, and I'll pay my dues, but they will no longer concern you.
gd Mar 2014
&
poetic verses about you
darling, as a last resort
to make you stay; a last
attempt to make you
permanent
in this ephemeral world

&

without any notice your
name was engraved
in ink on the back of
my tongue,

&

I am still trying to
spit you out in the
most relevant ways.

gd
gd Mar 2014
He held my hand today in the most delicate way,     
as if my fingers resembled flower petals and my     
palm reenacted butterfly wings. My hand felt          
fragile in his grip, which mimicked my feelings        
towards him because his heart did not belong           
in the spaces between my touch - his heart                 
belonged in something as light as air; something      
as delicate as cotton. And my heart was tattered      
with thorns, assured to shred his into pieces. All      
the more treacherous, he traced my fingers be           
tween my mittens, and it still felt like fabric -            
contrary to your inevitable static. And that is           
when I knew that even though he did everything    
right, he made it that much worse. As much as he    
tried, my frost-coated lips challenged the warmth    
in his voice, and it wasn't me he needed. It was I      
that needeth not deserve him.

gd
gd Mar 2014
I wonder if the stars gossip about the moon and sun,
            about whether or not they truly love each other or
                                                        absolute­ly hate each other's guts.*

i.
Because I bet they whisper about the way the sun disappears from sight the moment the moon says hello, or how the moon turns everything to darkness because of this constant disappointment. They probably laugh about the way the sun never finds a way to meet the moon halfway, or how its pride angers its core and causes heat waves to barrage the surface below.

I wonder if the stars ever really know anything. That maybe they have it completely wrong; that the sun and moon are opposite sides of the same spectrum that can never manage to meet in the middle.

ii.
Maybe they do love each other. Maybe the sun runs away from the cratered-creation because it's silhouette makes it shy, and the moon turns everything to darkness because it knows it must wait another lonely cycle just to get another chance - another glimpse. Maybe the sun radiates warmth in hopes it might be strong enough to reach the moon on the other side; strong enough to make them feel a little bit closer than they actually are.

I wonder if the stars speak about the moon and sun
     as if they were fated to burn out - or probably the latter,
                         which entails a miracle that might just last forever.


gd
gd Mar 2014
You see, I'm quite the forgetful catch.
It'll take me an hour to remember the chart of scientists that
they claim to have contributed to the understanding of my evolution,
oblivious to the fact that I have evolved in many ways when exposed to    
sound           touch           scent           taste           and           sight
It will take me the entire day to count the bobby pins I've lost, and the
pieces of paper I've magically vanished; maybe even a year of
long drunken laughs to memorize your birthday.
But it seems I've found an exception.

Your body is like a canvas:
entirely used to replicate sheet music in its originality
and intricate messages hidden behind staccatos and fermatas.
See, I've memorized the back of your head like a tune on the radio
replayed      over      and      over      and      over
­until it was the only melody I began to hear from morning till dusk
(with the occasional masterpieces that leaked its desires)
(and romantic words past my subconscious)
(and into my dreams)

I'm a forgetful catch, darling.

I'll forget the day
we first locked eyes, but
remember the hour you carved
h   o   l   e   s
into the bark-like exterior of my
heart and outlined your name
with a needle.

I'll forget what you had told me
you had for breakfast, but remember the
minute it took for you to fill my stomach with
b u t t e r f l i e s
that late autumn afternoon just by the baritone
of your laugh. Sad to say, I'll probably
even forget your birthday.

But I will always cherish that extra second of serenity
the last time you held me tight within your arms
[and fought the urge to let me go]
[but you did anyways]

gd
Because I'm listening to the type of music you would be listening to, and wondered if maybe one day you had come across songs of mine and felt the same way for even the slightest second during that last chord.
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