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 Mar 2015 Love
rey
bpm
 Mar 2015 Love
rey
bpm
does she know
how many times
p e r  m i n u t e
you tap your fingers on your thighs
when you're about to see her?

does she know
how many millimeters
your eyes dilate
when you see her?
but not me, not me

does she know
how white your knuckles are
when you hear that
somebody hurt her?
and i can hear you boiling

tell her to keep a tally
and beg me to not

i'm good at math;
counting things i'll never have.
 Mar 2015 Love
Abigail Kruke
my parents warned me about drugs on the street
and bad things,
but they forgot to tell me about
beautiful boys with blue eyes that cut deep,
and whose hands can take a soul,
oh god, how they forgot to tell me
how he’d make me feel
breakdowns
 Mar 2015 Love
Pdub
Dried Up
 Mar 2015 Love
Pdub
How shall I move forward
When I'm neither heartbroken
Nor happy?

*The ink that poured from my soul
Has been stolen by this drought.
 Mar 2015 Love
Erin Schwartz
If my mind were a book
You would be the little details written throughout
The hidden meaning behind each word
The storyline

If my mind were a song
You would be the little verses
The rhythm and rhymes
The beat

If my mind were your mind
I wouldn't be present
I would be pushed back to the far corner where no one can look
I would be nonexistent

But my mind and your mind are not the same
I am present
I am open for everyone to see and experience
I am existent

My mind isn't our song
But plays a true tune
The rhyme and rhythm soft
The beat slow

My mind is only a book
Where you are the little details written occasionally
There's more meaning behind my words other than you
The storyline is mine
 Nov 2014 Love
unwritten
she was a poet,
and he was her pen.
in him,
she always found words to write,
songs to sing,
thoughts to think.

he'd smile,
and kiss her softly,
and say,
"write me a poem."

and she would.
she'd put poe,
and whitman,
and shakespeare to shame,
and she'd write a poem that made his eyes water.

she'd compare him
to a rose with no thorns,
a book with no end,
a world with no poverty --
the things we all wish for,
but can never attain.

//

he asked her one day,
"what am i?"
and so she picked up her pen,
and began the usual:
you are the shining sun after a hurricane,
with rays that open the eyes of the blind.

but he stopped her after those two lines,
and said that this time,
he didn't want any metaphors,
or similes,
or analogies.
he wanted the truth.

and so on that night,
as he slept,
the poet picked up her pen,
and she wrote.

she wrote,
then thought better of it,
then started over again,
and this cycle continued well into the early hours of the morning,
until suddenly,
she wrote, frantic,
if i can't love you for what you really are,
have i ever really loved you at all?


this, too,
she thought better of,
condemning it to the trash.

the next morning the poet was gone,
her final work a mere two words:

i'm sorry.

(a.m.)
this is more of a story than a poem but i like how it came out so leave thoughts & comments please
 Nov 2014 Love
Riya
I've got a war in my mind,
It's making me lose time,
The more I try to get away,
The harder it hits me when I go to bed.

The impact hurts,
It's a white,
Hot
Searing
Pain.

It's hands grasping my collar
Oh so tight,
I just lost all my might.

The brown, hairy hands
Is now squeezing my throat,
And all I hear is
"oh no, darling no"

"WAKE UP!"
I hear my father scream,
And what's that?
Is that my mothers weep?
"She promised she wouldn't"
I hear my brother say
But all I see is a light as bright as day

It whispers my name,
Oh so softly
And I feel myself walking
Free from all worry.
You
You make me smile
for a little while

Then you make me cry
and say good-bye

The love of my life
wont make me his wife

I thought we had somthin
but now we're just nothin
This is for everyone out there who has been misleaded by those simple *******.
 Nov 2014 Love
kailasha
I'm afraid I'll end up living a small life,
in a small place,
and my small dreams
are just what remain.
That when I'm decaying somewhere
far underground and returning
to where I began
All I'll be is a small memory
in just another brain.
The words I've scribbled (or typed)
will all be long gone.
the people I made smile
will be all far away.
I'm afraid of when
my small spirit starts to fade.
I am just sad and hopeless. -.-
 Nov 2014 Love
Riya
depletion
 Nov 2014 Love
Riya
There's only darkness,
Not even a sliver of light,
Even the crack of dawn only brings black,
There is no hope,
No hope of ever going back,
Because once you go black, you never return from the other end of the spectrum.

Two sides,
Two opposing forces,
One winner.
Millions of deaths,
Billions of wars.
One winner.

The winner?
The one that consumes you.

My winner?
The Darkness.
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