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Ghost Writer Nov 2014
I hate this inbetween taste you left in my teeth.
Ghost Writer Nov 2014
your bittersweet laugh and the glint in your eyes still line my lungs and teeth.
I know this isn't a thing but what the hell, I'll make it one
Ghost Writer Nov 2014
when I sit in bed listening to the sounds of the city outside my window
I feel like I owe it a poem, creativity, something beautiful
to eternalize it's beauty in someway
the sounds of cars speeding through the bridge at 3:34am
souls repelled and pulled by the never-ending enigma that is the city
the heels of woman clacking across the cement, finding their ways home
the white noise in the rare moment that silence invades
this all silently screams to me, "paint me like a French girl"
I'm a muse, waiting to be picked upon
and nothing will ever be good enough
Ghost Writer Nov 2014
brown eyes are underrated I've always thought
but never knew till I met you
they made me feel what even blue crystal eyes could never do
his brown eyes had a familiar feel, like that book you once remembering reading
they make me feel like I've found home
how beautiful is the language of the eyes
I found something special lurking there inside
so genuine, so real, a more realistic painting of the surreal
so i here encourage the notion brown eyes are an overlooked jewel
i say this with certainty as I'm staring straight at you
Ghost Writer Nov 2014
It's easy to like how his voice is unique in the most uncomfortable way,
his innocent smile, and the way he looks at the world but especially you.
His cute quirks are inviting.
It's difficult to like his stubbornness, his awkwardness around others,
inability to stay quiet when he knows.
I like them all.
His eyes somewhere between fear and curiosity but to me,
his eyes are mostly full of wonder & bewilderment.
It's difficult when he singles you out on a bad day, somehow reading your mind
versus ignoring your eyes for so long.
When am I going to be able to title this "Him & Her" without lying.
Ghost Writer Dec 2014
Out of all those years of my life, one bright memory stands out
Him tickling me to death and telling me that when he grew up he'd name his daughter after me
the blue skies, innocence, and giggles all around me
and I'd never felt more special or alive
he would come around on his jet black motorcycle, gleaming with care
his bright shiny chestnut brown eyes and short wisps of hair
we were just kids talking about the future like this faraway land only real in our dreams
now I'm here miles away
your eyes aren't the same, there's no traces of hair on your head
in quick glances, i almost see the boy i once knew with life in his eyes, a spark of light
now I'm here miles away
you're in that lifeless town you'd swore you'd leave
you still ride your motorcycle but it's rusty and not well taken care of
you have a daughter now, and I don't know her name
we were kids who grew up too fast
Ghost Writer Nov 2014
No clarity, mumbles echoing louder louder
breathing in is letting go, finally peace
looking for the key in all the wrong places
inhaling the starry skies & this
comforting emptiness
exhaling choked up words & rotting feelings
couldn't be a better way to die

— The End —