Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Have faith in your aesthetic
I must
You're confident, rock it
I will
*I'm going to be great
An uncolourful evanescence of passion,
tarries beneath the surface of your smile.
Though you seem sinful in your beauty,
a frustration fondles your thoughts.
An emotion runs thick through your skin,
and yet,
you act placid, serene.
Like some other worldly angel,
unaffected by the inconvenience of human sentiment.
Fluid, even movements occupy your person,
as if fury calms you,
as if mind and cadaver function impartial to the other.
I long to catch sight of some small imperfection,
but only your dearest may see you sincere.
I'll walk down that hallway
and I'll feel the vibration of the bass
and I'll love that. 
That feeling running up my legs
through my heart 
and into my brain
where it matters. 

And I'll walk through that hallway
even though I'll breath in smoke
and I'll hate that. 
As you blow it in my face,
my anger,
and **** me inside
where it stings.
My best friends laugh.
A beautiful voice on lyrics I aspire to create.
Music, and it's culture.
That new book smell.
When your handwriting just looks good.
Blue-green and light pink, unite.
Writing something you're proud of.
My boyfriend's kiss.
Feeling the work-out you did two days ago.
Using ridiculous slang; when someone speaks it back to you.
The French language.
Conspiracy theories.
Being more than just another sheep.
Growing up.
It was always the possibility
that kept me going
and I should have let you be
and saved us both from this
but at least now we know:
there's closure
where before there was not
that's all I ask for.
A fool's game of willing trust,
lay open on the floor.
A sob for a new and gleeful temperament,
sounds beyond this sullen door.

A harsh release of "foolproof" bonds,
leaves it mark as a scar.
A tattoo of once woven, unbreakable ties,
rests in place of a stolen shard..

of the memories kept fondly,
deep within a chamber,
of words I mistook to be true.
Sorrow I've felt through this heart-wrenching process,
my emotions are scribbled deep blue.
The air will ******* choke you
if you let it. 
Will you? Will you constrain your
zeal, drive, affection and all that
could be tangible
into the span of the atmosphere?
Try freeing your mind,
let it experience what you hold out of reach. 
Don't choke yourself.
The horizon of the city shadowed the stars
arrayed across the windshield in the calm of the evening.
His lips grazed my shoulder when he spoke
his breath was warm on my neck.
He enveloped my whole body
though his arms were sprawled along the seat.
Words exchanged while the eyes relinquished their talents in the darkness
enhancing the touch
the whispers
"kiss my neck."

It was as if the music was from within our souls
pounding through each movement
like the blood pumping ardently through our systems.
Every impulse was impregnated with dubstep
the heat of our bodies was the friction of the melody.

We were the music
a drug, a stimulant.

Rapt in the haze,
the world dissolved
smearing florid patterns over the windows.
in a kaleidoscopic prism,
he was tangible
yet abstract
in the euphoria,
when we were both present
and far gone,
the music
and our bodies
were the only reality,
thats when I understood
The curve of his lips fit mine
pull away
His palm cradles my cheek
lips again
"soft today"
gentle movements.
His hair tickles between my fingers.
His eyes pierce mine with love,
they scream every affection he feels.
lips on my nose
Then they utter what only I
will know.
I turn with a smile and close the door.
Let's* just sit on the beach 'til the sun don't shine and feel serene while we drink white wine,
let's take pride in how we spend our days and pray we'll never end this phase.
I like it when a poem is raw;
a diamond in the rough. 
To read the tears as they were
written, not revised
thats ultimate. 
My poetry isn't meant to be
its meant to be honest.
Just sit there
and speak of me.
Look at me out of the corner of your eye.
Make yourself
feel better
about your lacking intelligence.
that I care.
that you're affecting me.
Please, continue to practice this skill
that you will carry with you for your lifetime.
Seeing as it the only one you possess
I applaud you for finding it.
while you are wasting your time
on things you
you're accomplishing.
I am here.
With the one I love.
Perfectly unaffected by your
at cruel words.
I understand
that you must have some things to sort out,
and that life
doesn't like to follow our plans.
I welcome you to be my bully,
the one I've yet to have.
It's alright you can do that,
I'll last through it
like there's no tomorrow.
BUT do not
expect me to act like we're
We aren't
I'm gonna make eye contact with you
every time you look at me.
I can fake laugh too baby,
in your face.
But I saw the tears,
that had to have been relevant.
I mean,
center of attention as always,
but still, they existed.
So when what I did hurt you,
and you found something to laugh at,
found someone to hurt too,
I only felt sad for you.
When what shouldn't matter to you,
I stepped away from it all,
and observed.
BUT you have to now realise,
that I'll fight you for what I want,
because you've made it impossible for me to
let you win.
And no,
he isn't what I want.
I want something more important
than that.
You can have what you let go of if you wish,
good luck convincing him.
I want what you don't deserve,
and I do.
So I'll have it.
Because I know what I want.
Always have.
Liars lie
Disguise ugly with a veil they see as more beautiful
Sometimes, I like liars
One month has passed us.
I know so little about you still
how u think
of me
of life
of now
of later.
I want to show you every part of me,
I still feel that you know too little.
And yet here we sit,
in what might be our first silent treatment.
I don't think I would be mad if it was.
I think I would get it,
agree with it.
But this is my poem
thats meant to let you know
that I love you and care,
and that I am going to freak out
when things are pulled a little crazy.
But you matter to me, so it's ok if things get sorta mad hatter once in a while.
Love always,
that's how I would paint it.
You are my companion.
A glowing bow of my heart has bonded to yours
so that when I muse over you
the breathing patterns
of a gentle creature
rising and falling in my chest cavity
create that warm, taxing heat
of a muscle striving a little more arduously
for a dedicated cause.
Thats how it feels
and it feels good.

Sometimes, erratically,
I notice my little creature breathing more keenly
and I wonder,
in those moments,
if it's not your own creature
pondering mine.
That maybe there are small orbs of brilliant light moseying down your spinal cord to caress the soul of that creature,
to tell it our stories
share with it our memories,
and perhaps those brilliant orbs find my little creature too.
Travelling through time and space to chance upon me,
to tell me that you're thinking of me.
This must transpire because of our companionship,
what else could ever justify such majestic happenings in this imperceptible world.
So if it is by virtue of our companionship and because you are my companion
then I am perfectly,
in affinity with that.
So grand I always imagined it,
a city beyond the grasp of realism.
Famous in it's own glory
An entity that survives in the hearts of its citizens.

Stories told by those who's hearts it has claimed
are presented in the notes of our music
the pages of our literature
and screens of our TVs.

They plant a craving in our souls for that which we will never find;
the bar is raised higher than any part of this world could reach.

It was supposed to be breathtaking -- it was supposed to make you cry out with glee and wonder.
Excitement so rooted in a determined fist that no restraints could hold it.
But it wasn't that,
in fact, it was the opposite.
So human it seems wrong

Broadway is just another street
Times Square isn't bright enough
The Statue of Liberty is too small.

And it shouldn't be
this city,
the city of all cities,

**We can't blame the city,
it's been in our hearts from the first moment we discovered the world.
I realize that we could never see the city's glory the way it's portrayed
until we've learned to love the city from the inside out
until we experience the soul of the culture
the people
the music
the colours
the art that is New York.

Then Broadway will never be just another street
Times Square will be brighter than our most colourful dreams
and the Statue of Liberty could never be

So now I leave you, New York,
with the promise of a new perspective, philosophy, and appreciation
of what you mean to your people.
The melody smooths over the cracks in my smile
when it shines and gleams through the night.
Sorrows of the past pass a finger over my cheek to remind me of the truths they told,
existing now only in the crevices of my heart.
Bittersweet memories of a love once lost,
meant to live on in a more glorious atmosphere,
dance on my thoughts
like faeries coming alive at dusk.
Honest were the passing moments,
staying only a short while.
So when, from time to time, they turn around and glance back at me
with a gaze of perfect tenderness
I'll grasp their hands and thank them.
It's old pain now;
old truth, none the less.
She piles her hair on top of her head,
a single curl falls,
on her shoulder it rests.

In awe, her sister, with eyes of pale blue,
looks up at the girl,
she wishes she knew.

The girl won't look down as she walks right on by,
tears are now glistening,
in those young pale blue eyes.

The curls bounce gaily,
as she turns her pretty head,
but her sister's already gone back to her bed.

A sound fills the hall of her young sister's cries,
a flow of remorse,
fills her own pale blue eyes.

A stroke of sweet innocence lays in her chest,
but that young girl's kind eyes,
put shame to her best.
I hope that you regret it,
because all I can hold out for is your apology.
I can't move forward,
I want to remember you kind, not destructive.
don't leave it this way.
Sun streaked rain droplets
biding their time on the eyes of this train
Soon they'll dry
and be gone for today
But tomorrow will come anew
with sun streaked rain droplets
Stop crying, stupid girl
it's for the self-pitied and the weak
your time for weeping is done
now get back on your feet.

Stop crying, stupid girl
no harm has been inflicted on you
continue to wear that heart on your sleeve
send me a letter from where it gets you.

Stop crying, stupid girl
its much to far away
to dwell on things that can't be changed
it's a game only fools will play.

Stop crying, stupid girl
and look into the reflection
you know that this girl isn't you
now, bring yourself back to perfection.
"Talk to you soon" 
goodbye for now. 
But when is soon? 
Soon by my standards,
or yours?
Soon enough that light will last
from our last
'til the next?
How long until you'll kiss my neck again?
Will my tired heart last the span of absence until then?
"Talk to you soon, I love you"
I felt calm then
all noise seized, and calm settled in.
The grass was bright,
I was alone.
The leaves were colour when they rustled
under my feet.
And I took a moment
And I looked around
And saw the life I was in.
Appreciated what I'm in control of,
and simply smiled at what I'm not.
I'm having a moment
that I don't wish to return to
but that doesn't make me want to run
I feel mild pain in my heart
but I'm confident that I can bear through it.
Every second: feel less.
It's such a nice day
the kind you want to feel good in
a walk would be lovely.
If only I had the time,
my heart needs the time.
Streaming through your chest,
is a whirlpool of endlessness,
an endlessness of possibility,
a possibility of feeling.

A feeling which lifts you high,
from the world the eye sees,
the eye sees the bitter life,
bitter life of sheep-like people.

Sheep-like people move along,
through a twisted vicious circle,
a vicious circle created by the sly,
the sly foxes who play for gain.

But gain by play you don't,
for you see past all the nonsense,
nonsense is the name of the game,
the game that you won't play.

You won't play, you won't be herded,
for in your chest there's a whirlpool,
a deep heavy whirlpool of endlessness,
an endlessness of wise awareness.
What has the world become,
when zombies have jumped out of their TV screens.
Faces of men in the streets of Miami,
have been gnawed off by human teeth.

Bath salts empower the mind.

And now "zombie" is dead;
shooters introduced him to his grave.
Do they have that right?

Sweet world, there are sinister things living within your confines.

— The End —