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Sep 2014 · 517
Amherst, MA.
Hannah Beth Sep 2014
I never thought it possible to ache
for a place like a person
or time

I miss the skies wider than space
I miss endless sheets of electric blue
Blanketing my every worry
Anxiety swallowed whole
Skies that left me unknown happiness
A feeling I no longer know

I miss the leaves
crunched between finger and thumb
specks of sand and muck that stain my skin
I could live with such stains for eternity
If it meant a life simple
Amongst the trees and scorching sun

I miss the sense of knowledge
knowing I had found
Where I belong
The thrill of discovery
Upon finding a missing puzzle piece
Lost long ago
I pluck it from hot tarmac
of a street walked years before
Pocketed immediately
Never again
will I let it go

I miss cricket filled nights
And days of smiles unexpected
Warmer than the air clinging to my skin
On even the most humid of summer afternoons

I long for this place
Three thousand miles away
Please save me from suburbia
Where I can't pick apart the days
Missing America again.
Sep 2014 · 2.5k
A call for Adrenaline
Hannah Beth Sep 2014
I want to live
Forever,
Where instinct is born
That sacred state

found in throngs of dancers
Pressed tight like bubbles
of compressed air inside scrap metal
on this aerosol dancefloor

or the microsecond in which
I am falling deep
in this freezing autumn sea
Midnight adventures  
With a friend so dear
Fits of giggles, clad in nothing
From head to feet

And a rushed kiss
behind closed doors
All ruffled hair,
Plum stained necks,
Bodies pressed together
like two cards from a deck

I long for these places
And feelings so strong
I have fallen for all those places
Where thoughts don't belong
my favourite moments in life are often the ones where it's all feeling and no planning or thinking or anything, god idek I'm just rambling now
Sep 2014 · 739
Create (5w)
Sep 2014 · 948
Intoxicated
Hannah Beth Sep 2014
Words atop words
Undoubtedly slurred
Vision in circles
Again and over
Over and again
So blurred

That kind of reality
It lasts an eternity
And nothing
Nothing at all

Each and every searing shot
Like a bullet in the throat
Fills you with a fire so brief
Violent in its moment
Short, sick, sweet

Then, the cool relief
Bottle after bottle
Lends a beautiful confidence
A smile from ear to ear
And in that moment you’re alive
Attached to nothing
Filled like the glass bottle
From which you sip
Filled up high
With gratitude of everything
Of everyone
Of here.
writing about being drunk whilst sober is a lot harder than i thought
Hannah Beth Sep 2014
I am not scared anymore
For I know
That for every horror that has been endured
Every scar carved into my soul
Each hardship
That has made me who I am
There are ten thousand stars out there
Shining bright against the dark
Like holes poked in boxes
of a cardboard earth
And they shine bright, beam with promise
Of joy and light
And have simply waited to reveal themselves
Until my time was right
A bit more personal than previous poems but ***** it if it's positivity it deserves to be spread
Sep 2014 · 735
C-minus
Hannah Beth Sep 2014
Life is but a grade, isn't it?
A silent message drilled in every day
an unwritten rule,
Undeniably implied:
we're all just letters on
The blankest of white space.

Those jagged coloured crosses
Pierce me every time
a zero on that question,
An X through all I write
Again and again
Like a thorn through my skin
And my every fibre of confidence.
The artificial longing to improve
***** all the passion from within.

whatever happened to hobbies?
To our hopes and our dreams?
To the thrill of the stage
Or the big silver screen?

All now come second
To that letter on that sheet.
It's a new kind of sickness
chokes those who try to breathe.

lock those dreams in a safe, son,
hunker down,
Make me proud.
Those old dreams don't exist, son,
Just a grade,
in sloppy ink.
Often I lose my temper with people when they question why I hate school so much, the way it's run, etc, and I hope this poem explains my feelings that little bit better than muttered responses thought up on the spot
Aug 2014 · 1.3k
Real Support (10w)
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
A shining steampunk romance
Found at the end of the earth
Risen from ashes,
whilst a world falls to ruins
around them.
Yet reality is nothing to these girls.

A call to love in apocalypse
A sick smile pulls at her lips
Engulf in flames, my everything,
she says,
Because, ****, it'll be worth this last kiss.

This war rages like a great manic animal
Destruction every step of the way
On opposite sides,
they're to fight for their lives,
it's each to their self and their own.

"They're wrong."
"I know."
"They don't know what we have."

What they're missing is theirs,
a love rarely had.

We're over and we're done,
the world would say,
It's the end of the day.

"Not for us. Not even close."
She takes her hand. Turns her back on all she's lived.
"This, my dear,
This is where life begins."
A poem based on a work of fiction, which, in summary, is a girl/girl romance set in the midst of a fictional world war 3/apocalypse. Ennjjjjooooyyyy
Aug 2014 · 385
hopeful
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
Within the month of December
comes a chill
It gnaws and it claws and it scratches and bites
it strikes unannounced
in the dead of night

A winter so sudden
beats me down to my knees

in the depths of December
hide the broken and bruised
in this sanctuary unexpected
I have found all of you.

Newfound beacons
Of incredible light
They stand beside me
To my left
To my right

Alone they are dim
But united
They give me paradise

I never knew that a month so dark
Could leave me
With a gift so bright.
Aug 2014 · 584
Untitled
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
eighteen spins around this earth
it has taken me
to realize that growing up
is not as I thought;
To long for something more.
But having the strength
to acknowledge the fact
that I
as much as anyone else I've met
I deserve something more.
Aug 2014 · 672
to fall for a friend
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
it is incomprehensible
to believe that never before
have my eyes been opened
to the galaxy that lingers
within you.

I do not know
how a smile so familiar, so kind, so warm
and so often returned
can only now
feel like home.

I can't seem to pinpoint
how such a vicious storm
made of roaring oceans and bolts of light
that paralyze
my every last bone inside
only just now begin to fill my insides
when your heart beats close to mine.

Only now are long nights beginning
to make sense
only now am I beginning to see
and not to see, but to question
Why I've spent an eternity
searching cities filled with treasure
and adventure and promise and gold
when a certain potential,
a promise of happiness
may have been lingering
by my side
all along.
haven't written many poems lately, been focusing more on ze novel, hope peeps enjoy
Aug 2014 · 694
for when you're feeling low
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
Nothing can compare
To a soul as beautiful
as yours.

Not all of the stars
in the endless universes
towering above our reach.

Not every flower bursting
with a life so pure
beneath our feet.

Not a single golden ring
or a diamond or jewel
buried in the dirt.

Not even all of the love
gathered in every friend I've known
combined as one.

Not a single word
read in any book
taken from every library on this earth.

Not a song, nor a bird
A story, a kiss
A place, a jump
A lover, or a home.

Not one magnificence
I have ever laid eyes upon
Will ever compare to you.
For anyone who's ever felt like they're nothing
Aug 2014 · 1.1k
Insomnia's Perks
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
Over the course of my skirmish with sleeplessness
More has been learned than I care to admit.
Although frequently,
I am blinded by frustration.
Coupled with the vicious need to sleep
And lack of.
But I have learned.

I have learned to acknowledge
The transition of dark to day
A process
I often neglected to think of before.
It is easier, I have found,
To pick yourself up
From the depths of your mind
When you are stood side by side
With a sun rising so bright.

I have learned of change,
And its magnificence.
Not long ago it was one more thing to be shunned,
A curse.
I once feared the unknown and unexplored
Unaware of the ever-morphing cycle outside my window
Spanning each and every season of the year.

I have learned of time
And the abundance of it carelessly slept away
In the panic of eluding reality.

I have learned of every birdsong sang
outside the outer glass of my window
A single composition
that had once sounded like a clone
a carbon copy of those previously heard
now a sweet waking melody
it emerges from the dark.

I have learned of the quiet and stillness
That is essential to knowing oneself.
All distractions put to bed
My company is my own.
And in the absence of sleep,
I have made a friend in my self.
I've been suffering of terrible insomnia this past while, but there's been a lot of positives to this whole experience too. You learn a lot about yourself when you're bored off your bonnet in the middle of the night haha
Aug 2014 · 4.8k
hangover
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
High in the sky
And we’re coming down
we drink again
in our glasses we drown

it’s curious, isn’t it?
The escapes that we have found

This bliss is
temporary
But at the very least
It will dull
the sound
Aug 2014 · 3.4k
Queer
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
Homophobia is not funny.

Care to hear what is?

The wrenching fear boring holes in your best friend’s once bright eyes
every Thursday afternoon, when she must enter a changing room filled with hostile glares

The violent purple bruise re-emerging beneath your brother’s left eye
the same bruise he told your mother about three weeks ago
that he’d “gotten in a rugby accident”

The gnawing feeling of loneliness in your classmate’s stomach as she lies in an otherwise empty bed
no longer able to hold her girlfriend’s hand in public
following a run-in with her mother at the supermarket

The boy next door who can’t bring himself to leave his bed
Immobilized with anxiety and wrapped up in the sheets
(it’s been six days, nine hours, and forty-two minutes since he told his best friend.)

The young woman who serves you your coffee on Saturdays
living on less than minimum wage for three years now
Since her mother left her to the streets

The kind boy you used to date, he’s been single for years
Caught and confused between miserable safety
and endless happiness

- - -


I lied before.
Not an ounce of wit lies within these words.
This is simply
an open letter to homophobes:

Find some ******* ******* originality for your jokes.
The poem says it all, really.
Aug 2014 · 949
"Just Friends"
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
The events of last night
tattooed on my mind

The look in your eyes
Glassy and drunken
Searching for mine

And when they met
And your lips found
Mine so feverish and
Desperate
Those few moments alone
Your tongue tinged with *****
To match my own
A kiss betwixt night
and dawn
Your arms found my waist

No words could be uttered
For fear of memories found when
we wake
Experimental but I like this so I figured I'd post it
Aug 2014 · 3.0k
Through someone else's eyes.
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
Not often did he wish for things,
He had few petty desires.
“What’ll come will come,” he’d say, with a knowing nod.
And he was happy that way. He’d smile.

Most called him an accomplished man
He left the past behind.
His monsters were gone
Defeated at last
Not many were considered truly content these days,
But this man, they said, he’d made it.

He’d sit by the fire with a cup of tea.
He’d read stories to his children, he’d sing them to sleep.
But his heart longed for little more, just one final request
Not for himself, but for the woman that lay near.

The most magnificent woman he’d had the pleasure to know
She lit up each room with a heavenly glow.
This woman, he’d said, oh, she’s one of a kind,
Not one word was questioned when he explained why.

She was the kind to leave food on the sill for the cat
That had never belonged to her
Because she couldn’t bare the look in its eyes
When the neighbour three doors down no longer could.

She was the type who could never in her life tell a joke
Because she was out of breath with laughter
Long before the punchline arrived.

She was impossible to hold a grudge to,
A blessing to the world.
Though insecurity engulfed her
Self-esteem was unheard of
Seeing herself through devils’ eyes,
Heartbroken at her own reflection.

If the man wanted one last thing,
It would be a day in his life, for her
Plain and simple.

She’d see the way she curled her hair
Behind one ear when she laughed.
A golden noise, full of light,
He wished she knew
That it put everything right.

His dying wish was, to the love of his life;
*“Please, let her see herself, through someone else’s eyes.”
i think we can all relate to the complete and utter frustration of seeing someone so beautiful think of themselves as the complete opposite, and not be able to show them otherwise. it frickin suuuuuuuuuuucks
Aug 2014 · 636
Identification
Hannah Beth Aug 2014

                              She ached for identity like a lover for their flame
  but lay despairing and dejected
                                                  When she couldn’t find her name.

One of my favourite shows  deals a lot with the issue of identity, character, etc, and it just got me thinking a lot about the whole concept and obsession people have developed with finding out 'who you are'. Identity's a tricky subject to write about but yunno, a girl can try
Aug 2014 · 12.8k
Shy
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
Shy

Her hand brushes
against my own
my mind screams
louder than even
the most horrific
of bombs to
hold it back
to close those
last few *******
feet between her
lips and mine
but all I
feel all that
shakes my entire
body and soul
is this crippling
shyness it refuses
to go it
digs its toxic
roots down to
the depths of
my stomach and
refuses to let
go and I
can't and I
won't and I
don't hold her
hand and I
wonder forever if
she could have
loved me back

an ode to all those awkward shites out there
Aug 2014 · 12.8k
Monsoon
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
She is the first springtime shower
a fresh promise of something new
The foundation to newfound life around her
a persona of all that is true

Soon, she is a summer downpour
A welcome respite from scorching heat
Every drop i crave, every storm near surrounds me
Her water is soon air, an overwhelming necessity

Later, an autumn storm.
Accompanied by a bite
A wind so harsh and bitter
Makes me forget her first spring life

And lastly, a soft snowfall.
Her floods have turned to ice
Frozen and forgotten
The damage heals with time

Storms must come full circle
none truly have an end
But to have known this girl,
What a privilege.
She was a living monsoon,
a friend.
Make what you want of this, but in my opinion, it is a story about relationships, and the different stages of them that are experienced. It was also inspired by Looking For Alaska, one of my favourite books, and my take on Pudge's relationship with Alaska. So yeah, that's basically it, I'll be quiet now haha
Jul 2014 · 621
Writer's Block
Hannah Beth Jul 2014
There are so many ideas
Inside of me

Emotions, stories
Fictitious journeys over land and sea

I could paint them all
So beautifully

But it feels as if
I've lost all ability

To record these words
To let ideas come to be

Locked inside the mess of my mind
And I've lost the key
Pretty ironic writing about writers block
Jul 2014 · 993
A letter to you.
Hannah Beth Jul 2014
You are
The first delicate ray of sunshine
On a dreary Novembers’ day

You are
The pounding rush of adrenaline
Felt at a concert barrier

You are
The reassuring smile
Treasured in the midst of calamity

You are
The warm woollen blanket
Wrapped round my shoulders at night

You are
The butterflies found inside me
At the peak of a roller coaster

You are
The first birdsong
At the end of a sleepless night

You are
Every beauty in this world
To me.
sappy as hell i'm aware
This can be taken as both romantic and platonic
To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what I intended it to be myself
Jul 2014 · 6.9k
Escapism
Hannah Beth Jul 2014
Another drink,
Another smoke.

One more story,
One more book.

A long day out,
A night awake.

Two more songs,
Four more games.

Daydreaming again,
Creating stories in her head.

Dreading the moment,
she's alone once again.

“I’m fighting my demons,”
She says.
“I’m pushing them away.”

He shakes his head.
“My dear, it seems to me,
That you are running away.”
V personal + experimental
although i suppose everything i write at this point is quite experimental
anyway, I dunno. Just a poem about running from your problems. Hope that at least some can relate.

— The End —