Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2014 Maddie R
Joshua Haines
Punk lips in perpetual paralysis,
and they're too afraid to let them kiss.
Too afraid to try to let it last
because of the blurs in their past.

I think the kids are in trouble.
Hanging out with temporary people;
making the wrong times never stop.
Smoking dreams with glass lovers
to indie sonnets and neon power pop.

The world knows they can pretend,
and it's their hearts they can't defend
from the illusion of what they could be,
and the loneliness of what they'll never see.

They skate the pavement until the sun sits,
and drink ***** from water bottles until their hurt slurs.
It's the preparation of tomorrow and what it may not bring
that makes every moment before, everything.

They're scared because it's real,
and I'm scared because they're scared.
We are always waiting.

John Lennon or someone on Facebook or God said:

"Life is what happens when you're making other plans."

Life is what happens when you're waiting, and soon you'll be dead.
That's what that quote says to me.

So I'll just wait for eternity
Quietly.

And if I'm in line at the grocery
or synching my phone
or whatever it may be

maybe I'll use the time to write poetry.

Leave my little mark,
help the world remember
that while I was waiting I was still
me.
 Jul 2014 Maddie R
bucky
wring your mismatched hands together they don't belong to you but they're still yours
you watch old reels, the war replaying on a silver screen
relearning a past you still don't remember (your hair used to be short, but you like it better long)
your smile is crooked when you look at him
you don't know if it's fondness or hatred (or something in the middle,the point between rage and bone-breaking love)
he'll never understand how easy it is to make men into machines
but the blueprints for your breathing patterns are hidden away in ones and zeroes in the back of your mind
your tongue and teeth are stained with your old body, ten thousand lifetimes ago you still feel your arm sometimes
ghost aches haunting your every step
when you close your eyes you see an ashtray, blood filling your eyesockets like saltwater
you've forgotten about that night (1942, the war playing in the background as you looked at him, soft around the edges) stars falling from his palms into your chest
you're an ampersand, your fingers interlocked with his
when you ask him what it was like
(you aren't sure what you mean, but he is) he says, soft around the edges,okay
and it's enough
war isn't pretty, it's a tragedy and so are you but it's enough for now
press your fingers into the sway of his back
cough russian winter into his lungs
and try to forget about it
i think it is fairly obvious what this poem is about
 Jul 2014 Maddie R
Poetic T
Kiss
 Jul 2014 Maddie R
Poetic T
If I could not word how,
I
Felt for you,
I
Would say it all in a kiss,
 Jul 2014 Maddie R
Haruka
Yesterday, I went out to a party
for the first time since we broke up.
And I saw you,
with your tongue down someone else's throat.
I spent the night drowning myself in cheap beer
and falling into beds of strangers that smelt
of regret and forgotten memories
of the people we once loved.

I drove home at dawn,
the road lines swerving and dipping,
and I never saw that truck coming.
The pain was blinding
and as my chest hit the steering wheel,
my lungs collapsing and heart bursting,
I thought of the first time you kissed me.

Tender and sweet,
it felt like my heart was exploding.
Ironic, isn't it?
How death,
and falling in love
feel the same?

"It's better to burn out than to fade away."

*This is my way of burning out.
I had a dream like this last night so I wrote about it.
 Jul 2014 Maddie R
Olivia L
Days of ring around the rosies
Pocket full of posies
Ashes ashes
We all fall down.
Days of bluebells
Cockleshells,
Evie ivy over.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
But we all know that it ended badly.
Wasn't it great
When we didn't know the history
Behind our childhood?
 Jun 2014 Maddie R
Anon
I desire tulips from my love.
Carefully placed on the nightstand,
Just close enough so my open window pushes their perfume
Towards me.
You would get the pink ones,
Because you remember me telling you,
"These are my favorite."
In the grocery store last week.


You could leave me a 4a.m. voicemail.
"I woke up and I missed you."
Only to surprise me at 11 o' clock,
Cover my eyes,
Wear your black checkered shirt,
And pull me into a passionate I-missed-you-so-much-these-mornings-without-you-are-unbearable kind of
Kiss.

And you would think of all of it.
All that I wanted.

But...youre too busy and me?
I am
Hopelessly
Romantic.

— The End —