Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Woe befalls the foolish one's who love too soon. For when our hearts are but one and same, the world falls away along with all sorrow and shame. But as the flames of love wisp and wain, the simple hearts of newest lovers know not what to do in vain. So in the wake of broken souls and shattered dreams, there we sit and there we'll stay. Long past the time of mended wounds, Woe befalls the foolish lovers, the one's who loved too soon.
For W.K.G.
thanks no thank you yes may i see a menu? have a nice day the blt please i don't need one bass please i might as well look the part i'll try the country boy ipa thank you no change.
This is every word I've spoken today. Loneliness is an open road when you travel it on your own.
They say we all die twice. The day we expire. And the day the last person who really knew us, says our name for the last time. Though I am but a single servant of fate in the most insignificant of ways, I strive to love what I can in this world of so few decent moments. I try to be true in the midst of our cosmic riptide that brought me to the edge of my own free breath. My time is but a instant. Here or there in this world of never ending time, I no longer believe in a linear existence. I am born and dead and young and old all within my own single space. Life is hard to comprehend when the squeeze of a trigger ends a life and even the truest form of love doesn't survive a fortnight. With this epiphany, I strive to only be a shadow because without acknowledgement of self, I neither live nor die. I am but spectral observer, budding anew at end of all things.
I am the ugly painting hidden under all the others at the thrift store. The one only the truly crazy or adventurous ever see but no one buys.

I exist only to collect dust until I am as such.
The World was a boy once. He was birthed into space without the faintest idea of what to gravitate toward. Not yet in endless rotation, he floated across the great void. Wandering in the dark, the simple sphere of water and dirt had no place of purpose in the swirling stars. That it is until he met the Sun. Beautiful and inescapable when her face shone upon his eager eyes. Little by little, he could not help but be drawn to her warmth and seemingly steady nature in the universe. But alas, the sun is a solemn and solitary creature, for no one and nothing may get too close to her, for if they did, her truest nature would disintegrate them in time. Learning this truth meant little to the young world, for he had found his love for the rest of time and felt satisfied just orbiting near enough to bask in her light. As the years went by and the Earth grew old, in an act of continued dedication, he tore a piece of himself away and held it close so that even when his was back turned away from her, he could see her serene luminescence in the reflection of the grey rock rotating around him at just the right time. So goes the tale of a love never to be received nor forgotten.
But maybe someday, their matter may be one.
I've been watching a lot of star trek.
Dear Willa,

I'm writing you for health and recovery, not just selfish feelings of affection. The truth is your love haunts me still. When I turn off my lights at night, its as if you're in the corner of the room still whispering sweet gestures in my ear. My love persists without permission and only rears itself in my dreams. You are not just the girl of my dreams, you ARE the girl of my dreams. Even though your physical presence left me long ago, your phantom stays in my mind, caressing me and keeping me company in the loneliest crevasses of my brain. I miss you every morning and think of you often in waking life, though it seems harmful for me. I can't help but think of you when just the night before you smiled at me so sweet and told me you still love me in so many different scenes. It appears that when I told you my heart was yours with my hands cupped together with nothing but air in them and tears in my eyes, I was giving you more than I knew.

It's only you for me, just like the whooping crane, for he has a wife his for all his life and if she dies, he'll do the same.

Goodnight,
My Hotpak
love letter
I am of the unwanted, the ones of the dark. The scarred, the misshapen, the ugly of this world. I exist in the lonely avenues, with the rejects and fools that played with fire until they burned all the bridges off their islands. I am the drunk on the corner, the crazy man that no one in this world loves, I am the fool in the alley that smells too rank for "decent folk" to get near. I and we are the reminder of the world that is and will always be, not some glamorous movie scene nor a figment of the imagination of those pretty and of privileged. I am the bomb that severs limbs, and the rage that downs planes. I am what no one wants to be and until my demise I will be what the world says I am. Because that is the way this awful world works. So go forth with the heat and pollution, the death and despair and maybe just maybe the good goddess of Gaia will rid herself of our parasitic presence. fuckit.
Next page