Lizzie 4d
Usually I enjoy talking about my completely
Not worth listening to feelings but
Undoubtedly people have lost interest
Such as a girl who
Used to vent to me like I vented to her but
After I vented too much she had
Left me behind and found new friends.
acrostic poem
Lizzie 4d
i have not touched your skin and you have not touched mine,
i haven't felt your warm breath on my skin, on my lips, and you have not felt mine,
i do not know what you smell like, except for the bunny plushie you shipped to me, and you still have yet to smell my fragrance.

i love you though, and you love me. i love you more than i have ever found myself to love someone, and we have dated, yet this love i have for you, can not be bounded by the love someone feels for their significant other,
you are not my girlfriend
you are not my best friend
you are not my wife
you are not my soulmate.

you are my everything, you are the reason i continue breathing, you are the sounds when everything goes silent, you are the pleasant cozy scents when everything is rancid, you are the glimmering sparkle in a sea of darkness.

i am glad that in all the alternate universes there are, i am living the one where i met you and we are closer than a married couple, than twin sisters, than a mother and daughter. we are closer than the human vocabulary can explain.

i could go on for hours about how much you have impacted my life and how i'm so satisfied with you being in it.

and sometimes i still get sad when i think about how there are alternate universes where i don't meet you, or i don't become friends with you, or i even hate you. but those universes are trumped out by this one, and the other ones where we are close, ones where we are still dating, ones where we live right next to each other.

you are the most important person in the world to me, and we have a love that is so much stronger than anything i've ever felt before, ever seen before, or ever even read described before.

Lizzie Feb 13
you see the entire milky way when you look at me,
a complete master piece, the best exhibit at the show.
you hear a symphony, the top musicians in the world.

i've noticed your stars, the sparkles that appear,
i believe you're an oil painting, took large amounts of skill.
i hear the quietest place on Earth with you.

but i will never love you, as much as you love me, and i'm truly sorry for that.
i've pondered posting this poem for over a month now, i've lost any hope of just discarding this.
Lizzie Feb 1
you've overstayed your welcome, you've extended the deadline to a date i don't see myself living to, you've stopped paying rent.

you're a nuisance.

you lied to me, betrayed me, hurt me, and expected me to remain the loyal little sidekick.

you're the villain.

when i finally stood up for myself, you shot me down, ordered my execution center stage.

you're the devil.
this is for the people who in my past, hurt me, and know they did, and left me, but my brain won't let them leave.
Lizzie Jan 20
when we kiss, it's filthy
exchanging sensual spit
mine tasting of strong alcohol, hints of strawberry
your reminds me of cigarettes, addictive like nicotine
together we are a walking mess
addicted to abusive subtances
addicted to each other
Lizzie Jan 20
i don't scratch my skin when it's dry to try to tear the surface to cause myself to bleed
i don't have nightmares where your hand touches mine and you're instantly disgusted
i don't scream all the lyrics to songs that make me cry because I relate too strongly
i don't write poetry because i can't find myself expressing my words
i don't scramble my sentences up so i can hide my anxiousness
i don't avoid eating because i'm afraid of weight
i don't do my homework because i've lost motivation

and i avoid admitting the truth.
Lizzie Jan 11
Barnaby hands me my daily
  cup of coffee, but this time, it's night
  time, and the coffee reminds me of the war
  but not the allies annihilating the Germans or Japanese
  but the war between me and him every time
  he confesses his love to me, the words pierce
  through my heart
  I will never love him as much as he loves
                                        me, I'm disgusting
  like the taste of the coffee
                                        just beans in water.
I wrote this for my AP Lit class about the painting, Nighthawks, based off the girl in the red dress sitting with the man.
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