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588 · Feb 2018
Who’s laughing now?
Hunter Cyrus Feb 2018
Take your knife and line it up.
Make me bleed, just for a cup.
Plunge it deep and pierce my soul,
It was yours to keep, yet here we roll.

I think I got run over by a truck,
But maybe that’s ‘cause I gave a ****.
Go ahead and twist your knife,
My once well-loved now spiteful wife.

In my suffering you bask,
As blood drips out despite my mask.
I think it’s time to make it real,
These visions and thoughts I feel.

The stage is set, messages left.
Time for self inflicted theft.
There’s a hole in my chest,
And you thought I spoke in jest.

The last laugh is mine.
A proper relationship poem that has nothing to do with my ex, for once. I created this out of a single mental image: a woman holding a knife and standing over a man laying down with his literal heart exposed and vulnerable.
I’m happy with how the flow and tone of this poem turned out, hopefully you are as well.
452 · Nov 2017
A small thing
Hunter Cyrus Nov 2017
The water strains through your hair,
Little droplets flung into the air as you turn.
Your smile at me,
The slight exasperation from your lips.
“Do I have to?” You ask.
“Of course,” I clap.
The brush hits your hair,
A knot makes you grimace.
Your hair slowly puffs,
You finish and present.
“Like an angel made for me.”
You huff your irritation,
Your head a puffy fluff of hair.
Yet,
One look at my simple smile,
And you plan to say yes if I ask again.
Inspired by a past relationship. The small things are the most precious.
401 · Mar 2018
The Truth Behind Everyone.
Hunter Cyrus Mar 2018
I don’t know how much you can see.
I try my best to hide it all.
I keep my emotions under wraps.
A cool, collected exterior.
Strong and solid.
A barrier between my emotions and the world.

Beneath this barrier is a sea.
A tumultuous and roiling sea.
In this sea I’m screaming.
Gargling and choking and coughing.
My lungs filled with liquid pain.

Every day I want to let it out.
I want to expose my inner feelings.
But I won’t,
Because that’s too much hassle.
363 · Jan 2018
A Boy Beyond the Horizon
Hunter Cyrus Jan 2018
She wakes up every morning, love in her heart and guilt in her head.
A forbidden love doomed to fail.
Modern day Romeo and Juliet.
Her love is only matched by her fear.
A love that crosses continents and traverses oceans.
A love simple and pure, golden.
Crushed underneath the only forces selfish enough to try,
Religion and family.
Traitorous little things, beliefs.
Every belief will tell you it’s for your own good,
Yet often they seem to crush the youngest and happiest into misery.
Her love for him is battered and bruised,
Pushed into the deepest recess she could find.
She’ll discover the only thing worse than forbidden love,
Is the depression of forced separation.
I think some of the beauty in this poem is lies with your interpretation, so I shall refrain from telling you the "proper" interpretation.
347 · Feb 2018
Happy birthday A~
Hunter Cyrus Feb 2018
It’s your birthday today, and I wish you well.
You turned 17 turned today, and all is well.

You’re nearly an adult, yet somehow so young.
You’re two years younger than me, yet somehow just one.

You’re the epitome of a teenager, and the envy of many.
You’re flawed and imperfect, as any good human is.

Never forget, you are a good human.
Live your life to fullest, and with no regrets.

Happy birthday,
A~
Written for my friend’s 17th birthday, as her birthday gift. She lives on a different continent, so poetry is just about the best gift I can give.
It doesn’t flow as well as my other poems, but not all poems need to. It’s from the heart, and that’s what counts.
319 · Oct 2017
To The End
Hunter Cyrus Oct 2017
Oh we will be together at the end,
And I will meet up with you at the bend.
Oh we will meet up at the gate.
Because, our love will propagate.
Oh we will be together.
And we will be forever.

Oh at the end,
Up at the bend.
Across this sea,
Remember me.

I loved you true,
I hope you knew.
I will always be here,
And you may always be there.
But I hope you know,
Youve made me grow.

We will meet up at the end,
I hope you treat me as a friend.
295 · Dec 2017
Relationship Spectre
Hunter Cyrus Dec 2017
There’s a ghost on my shoulder.
Sometimes I can look to my right and see it riding there.
Sometimes I look into the sky and see it floating there.
Sometimes it stands beside my date and watches with a warm smile.
Sometimes it invades my head mid-sentence with a memory.
Once in a while I meet someone who makes this spectre a memory.
This is how I judge who I should pursue.
If you’re so boring as to leave me daydreaming about a spectre past,
You aren’t for me.
This poem isn’t quite what I wanted it to be. It’s sort of a terrible mess. Anyway, I guess I’ll publish it. Perhaps someone will enjoy it anyway.
293 · Oct 2017
A Ray of Sunshine
Hunter Cyrus Oct 2017
I live in a world of storm grey clouds.
We are harsh and mean, we laugh cruelly.
I like this. I am well-suited to this.
But you are an epic splash of sun. You shine through the clouds.
Your heat and sheer warmth brings me joy.
For in this land of endless grey, you are the warmth I crave.
I don’t care for endless sun.
I prefer the harsh grey, I feed off it.
Yet I can’t help but be mesmerized by the shaft of golden light.
I enjoy the cold grey.
I enjoy the shining beam.
I love having a single, brilliant, spot of light shining through the dark

— The End —