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I throw paper airplanes at the moon
All the poems and love meant for you
All the wishes on shooting stars
Folded and flown into the wind
Release
In the quiet peace
Find freedom in letting go
You don't talk about the hurt you carry
You just learn to live with the pain
 Jun 2018 Lauren Johnson
thomezzz
I've loved many boys
With different colored eyes
But the way I remember them is
By the shape of their hands

The way their thumbs curved
Or how their palms felt against my own
The weight of them on my thighs
Or how they ran through my hair

The times they zipped up my dress
And settled on my shoulders
The moments when they grazed my own
As they handed me my keys

The motion of them as they spoke
And the motionless of them when they were silent
The smoothness of them in the beginning
And the calluses after time had passed

Sometimes, I forget the faces of these boys
Or the way their voice sounded over the phone
But I'll never forget the way it felt
With their hands intertwined in my own
 Jun 2018 Lauren Johnson
ali
gray
 Jun 2018 Lauren Johnson
ali
i've run out of poetry,
and now all i'm left with
is gray.

gray surroundings,
gray people.
i'm lost in a world
that's lost in itself.

i can't find the words
to even say what i'm feeling,
because all i see is confusion
staring right back at me.

i'm in a room full of mirrors,
my own reflection
not appearing
because i've lost myself
in the depths of my thoughts.

someone,
please find me,
someone, anyone,
i'm gasping for air
that's not even there.

no one understands,
yet you're all here to listen.

there's only one problem.

i can't find the words-
i've run out of poetry.
my solution to having writer's block but also desperately needing to write at the same time
Time of death:
3:44.
When you told me you don't love me anymore.
Place of death:
The park where we met,
on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
I remember the dreaded words which escaped your lips,
the heat in your words,
the look on your face,
as I took a metaphorical bullet to the chest;
it hurt like Hell.
Cause of death:
You.
When you stabbed me in the heart for the first
and last time.
A fatal blow.
But in the coroner's office,
all the report will ever show is:
time of death:
3:44.
Cause of death:
Trauma to the chest.
When your heart gets broken by someone, it feels like you've been struck in the chest. The air feels like it's been knocked right out your lungs and you feel as though you can't breathe. You feel a mixture of emotions all blurred into one mess. You play the final exchange in your head over and over again, and each time it gets harder and harder. Heartbreak. It feels like you've been stabbed in the back and shot in the chest all at once.
i’m made of sidewalk cracks and moments i should’ve taken
i’m made of broken rings and the wrong girls i put my trust in.
because i didn’t know what love was until i kissed a girl made of thorns
and i didn’t know what happiness was until fear started sleeping without locking the door.
i’m no where near what the world makes me out to be
what it expects from me
and maybe that’s okay.
i’m made of ****** coffee and the constant pressure of being something else
i'm made of holes in the foundation and girls that kiss me just to watch me melt.
because i didn't know what lust was until i touched skin made of broken glass
and i didn't know what hope was until i fell a little too fast.
my story ends before it even starts
because forever is only real if you look like art
but i look like broken promises in an empty hallway
and maybe that's okay.
and strange what desire will make foolish people do
 Apr 2018 Lauren Johnson
Sam
her
 Apr 2018 Lauren Johnson
Sam
her
life might lead on like a patterned string
in avalanches of winters and spatters of spring
but I still don't know why the blackbird sings

She swoops and jives on sinatra's swing
but her eyebags halo like saturn's rings
and she patters around on tattered wings
purposefully hunting for the wasps sting
but why the blacker the bird the sweeter the sing

and its like through all that clattering
she can't hear she matters more than every thing
blackbirds eat wasps
And if you are to love,
Love as the moon loves.
It doesn't steal the night,
It only unveils the beauty of the dark.

And if you are to love,
Love as the rain loves.
It doesn't wet the bodies,
It only washes the sad dirt of the souls.

And if you are to love,
Love as the wind loves.
It doesn't drift away,
It only cleanse you to the core by invading through each pore.

And if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It doesn't radiates heat,
It only pours its warmth on you to enlighten your way.

And if you are to love,
Love as the star loves.
It doesn't delightfully twinkles,
It only reminds you that not even death can separate two hearts.

And so forth,
if you are to love
Love as the whole universe
& not just a part of it.
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