Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 2015 LETITFXRING
ky
Untitled
 Jan 2015 LETITFXRING
ky
ive run out of words to describe the way your hands feel gripping the sides of my face
You loved me because I was innocent.
Naïve.
New.
But, darling
Your eyes were too blind
To the deeper meaning
Behind long sleeves
And solo cups.
You are an oxymoron;
happy and sad,
bittersweet,
a fine mess,
and clearly misunderstood.

Being with you
is sweet torture
that leaves me
wanting more.
its been a while
 Jan 2015 LETITFXRING
Monika
When he asks you to write about him, remind him that you are not that kind of poet. When he asks you to describe his eyes, stop yourself from telling him how bright they are and how they remind you of the stars you stare at in the late night. Do not tell him they are brighter than any of those stars and while they may not light up the whole sky, they sure as hell light up your heart. Instead, smile and tell him that they are just blue – nothing is very special about them. He will ask you why your hands and lips tremble when you're with him, but you mustn't explain how fast your heart beats when he looks at you, or how sometimes you swear your lungs fill up with smoke when you hear him laugh soundly because of something you said. You shouldn't write about him, because you're not the kind of girl that writes about someone who could be here one day, and easily gone the next.
"I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars."
 Jan 2015 LETITFXRING
Monika
When he kisses me, I wonder what it's like to kiss you and when he holds my hand I can't help but wonder what it would be like to have your hand intertwined with mine and I know that I shouldn't be thinking about you. Not when I'm with someone else but his eyes don't shine as bright as yours do, his lips aren't stained bright pink and he doesn't say my name the way you used to. I feel guilty for not feeling guilty about the fact that I try to fill the empty hole in my chest with other men simply because you're so far away I can't even reach for your hand. I'm sick of writing poems about boys who I could not care less about because it won't help me get rid of you. You're halfway across the globe falling in love with a different girl every night and I bet you no longer think of me, but I sure as hell think of you. It doesn't matter if I am reading or writing or planting kisses all over someone else's neck. You are always on my mind.
Next page