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Sep 2017 · 290
Her Spinning Arms
marcos Sep 2017
So seductive; offering guarantees of hope and happiness yet allows you to get lost. Funny right? She says to shut your eyes, gently. Surely it's not your moment right? Surely you will wake up in the arms of the sun; to the songs of the birds you're unsure whether or not you want to understand.

So you close your eyes.

She sneaks up on you and whispers stories into your ears, insinuating visions you can only dream of. A storyteller. She holds your head in the warmth of her promises and the cradle of her lies, weaving stories in the ditch with all the overturned cars on the side of the road. Are they really lies?

And you wake up.

She is something far more different than you could have imagined. She is so far gone; no way to turn back. Wishing the mirror on the wall showed an upside down image so you wouldn't have to relive the torture of seeing yourself. It's astounding really. The wrinkles.

When did they get there?

When did I get here?

The days tie themselves together and throw each other off a cliff. A routine ingrains itself into the corner of your brain that gnaws at every muscle fiber when you miss your favorite TV show; that whispers to you at night and shows you blood stained walls. As over dramatic as it sounds you know what I mean. There's no more. Really. There isn't.

She wakes you up before she takes you. You see her dashing red face looking cold into your eyes, and you wish for more.

But she can't give you any.

Time can only tell.
Sep 2017 · 244
Downpour
marcos Sep 2017
When I was a little boy, and it was raining, my grandpa and I would go outside and watch from the front porch. One day, it was cold, and it was raining, and he stepped under the water pouring over the edges of the gutters. Afterwards, he made me stand in the freezing downpour.
I remember crying.

That was the first time I remember feeling resentment; the first time I noticed the devil sitting on my shoulder. He spoke in riddles so when I was little, I remember reading an encyclopedia. I would mark the pages with dead colorful leaves I found at school. So when he spoke and I didn't understand I would read until I fell asleep that night. I would stare into his eyes and count back from 10.
And he would skin the sheep.

So now I have dreams of puzzles and I find myself in labyrinths I subconsciously assembled after you said you loved me. I cover myself with a wet blanket and raise the sails, heading for a hazing He felt I deserved. I took the brand the angels gave me and licked the blood off the thousands of knives stuck in the walls. The floors that used to wail have misplaced their voices, or maybe you've missed yourself; there is no lost and found here.
And then he wins.
I still give my grandpa **** for this
Sep 2017 · 368
The Way Things Should Be
marcos Sep 2017
There's leaves falling all around and a melody floating through the empty feelings your stomach nurtured; the very same feelings you left in the confession booth. Most nights are spent dancing in the dark with shadows conjured in the cauldron the scientist calls home. Watching the clouds in free fall while the circus in the sky puts on a show. Where the elephants whip the acrobats and lions entice children to tiptoe across a lake of ice on stilts, juggling plates and sanity in the same act. Constantly searching for validation in the eyes of the patrons that once held every piece of you along with your calamity and only put you together to ask you a question:

"Are you okay?"

And the trumpets let loose a deafening wail, a silencing monolith separating the thoughtless from the mindless. What side did you fall on? Is there happiness to be had over there? Will I be okay? The strings slither on tightropes as you pedal along a slack line held between the skyscrapers the architect never had the courage to build. Throwing yourself over the edge to land on a tulip petal and still stand tall. Every mistake sends a beanstalk shooting to the moon, and a highway through hell.

So tell me.

Are you okay?
******* depression, you'll never beat me
Jun 2017 · 702
Full Moon
marcos Jun 2017
Sometimes, there is no fairy tale ending. Honestly most of the time, there is only a melodramatic soap opera rerun with a white noise background gnawing at your eardrums. The same way your laughter now claws at the back of your throat, and your teeth grind against each other when the sun is out. Sometimes, you can't share your happiness with the person that helped you find it. It was like someone hit a switch and now your thoughts run rampant, searching for a reason why you no longer go for a jog in the morning. Why you sleep in past every alarm you were so careful to set the night before. There's an art form you've mastered in talking yourself out of everything you loved to do. There are long nights you take breaks from howling at the moon to ask yourself if something is wrong with you. Sometimes, and I'm so sorry to say but, you just can't be loved. Sometimes you just aren't good enough. You, alone, a lonely sailboat in the middle of the ocean, so pitiful the waves are meticulous in never letting you capsize. An SOS squeezed out of the last living fibers of a shriveling raisin the mirror reflects back. So you call and leave voicemail after voicemail, leaving out how you didn't get better. How you wished the story didn't have to finish so soon. How you wished for a happier ending.
marcos Apr 2017
The human heart is like a dam. A vessel that can only hold so much before breaking. But love finds a way to mend the cracks, and build up like a fortress to hold off anything that threatens the stronghold. And you build. And you grow. You become a dam. And here comes the current rushing straight through like a steam engine; like the ghost of what was once yourself passing through you. A coffee table with white powder that flew across the room in your darkest dream. There's a crack in the mirror on the vanity with the reflection of a dam. A deteriorating version of a dam. Almost like all the construction meant nothing.

You break, the waters rush through and **** the townspeople you have been trying to protect for as long as you could stand on your own.

You come to realize thinking you are strong and being strong are two entirely different universes.
Mar 2017 · 776
Please
marcos Mar 2017
There's a novel inside each and every one of us. A story to be told. A cricket that lived in the library of your imagination. A poet. A narrator. Someone who actually wanted to tell your story. The poet. The poet that always wanted to speak for a change. The very same who was told later. At a different change in scenery. And he waits.

And he waits.

And he waits until finally he can't any longer. A tsunami swells in the pit of his chest that night the poet just wanted to profess everything in the front seat of your car with the stars above us. Smoke tendrils that left your lips and fogged up the window. The same smoke tendrils that made our eyes all glossy. And low. How low that valley of self-detrimental actions to a false pretense that the universe was never going to allow. So instead you let the tsunami take its course out of your eyes in the shower, telling yourself you aren't crying, that the hot water is just a little too much. And the steam rises. And there's a rainbow.

Just like the rainbow I see every time you happen to look my way.

And my love, that smile gets me every time.

But I think the poet inside of us all dies when we realize there can be no sentence to make someone fall in love with you. We read these tall tales of love potions and dragons where the brave, heroic knight dashes in on a gallant black steed and the villains love potion never touched a tongue. And the townsfolk cheer. And the poet is dead. The story ends.
Jan 2017 · 643
Beauty in Bloom
marcos Jan 2017
I fell for the way the smoke uncurls. The way it unravels and dances in a montage of swirls. I fell for the way the smoke danced off your lips. And the way there was so much more to you than the movement of your hips. I fell for the lipstick you always wore. And the smile I could hear in your voice when I said I was at the store.

And I saw the way a garden bloomed in you. The way the buds showed all the colors from pink to blue. And I remember looking at you and feeling yellow. And I remember the way my legs all of a sudden felt like jell-o, simply at the sound of your "hello".

And it was you, you were the light that shined so bright. The only detail I care to remember about that night. You were the only shining star in the sky. And I remember thinking, I wouldn't mind being by your side. The girl of my dreams. Had me realizing life wasn't really as it seems. You see, that night I realized just so how hard a person can fall. They say the taller they are, the harder they fall, and I've never been so okay with standing tall.

I never was great at talking about the way I feel. Truth be told, there's just too many scars that time is taking too long to heal. I've been searching for the words to say in books and songs I've never heard about. Trying to keep my heart from bursting out. Of my chest yknow?

The rose that bloomed every time you smiled. The tulips that flourished every time you laughed. The thorns that pricked my fingers every time you cried.

You were a garden that only time could water. The LSD that dropped on the blotters. You were the Lucy that had me feeling wavy. Had me feeling like life was amazing. And thank god for her. Because now I don't feel pain as much as I've been hurt.

But I saw a flower bloom. And I think that the love I felt was true.
For and about someone who means a lot to me.
Nov 2016 · 482
11-03-2016
marcos Nov 2016
Oh Lucy. We meet again huh? Your crimson colored nails that held a cigarette between them. You always seem to find your way back to me. Back then, even when I was filled with false emnity. Oh do you remember me? Do you remember who I was before you gave me an identity? Is this even a reality? I was the boy who crushed roses between his teeth. The one who made you think there was something underneath. The boy who rolled trees inside of a leaf. Something strong to cling on to like an actual belief. But the cigarettes keep burning. You always tried to get me to smoke one. I almost said yes tonight. I almost burnt out like the sad, hanging courtyard lights. But maybe if I had taken it, I would've been alright. But I don't think I should always listen to my hindsight. I saw the smiley face she drew in the blanket. And she read the smile on my face like an open pamphlet. The experience machine that held my head, like the way she held your picture in her locket. Around her neck. And Lucy you had me feeling like much more than just some speck. The night still has to end. But that's why I am with my friends until I drop dead.

I almost said yes tonight.
I almost asked for a light.
Oct 2016 · 225
One Day
marcos Oct 2016
She said "I just want all the things."
And I had to resist the urge to say,
"One day I'll buy you all the things."
Sep 2016 · 766
Resolution
marcos Sep 2016
Your eyes are easy to get lost in. Did you know that? Did you know that when you smile, the light shines at the perfect angle and the brown is just the most adorable? It's so contagious. There's something about it. But hey I guess sometimes all that glitters isn't gold. Things are too good to be true sometimes. Like the way the door opened but never closed and you said you'd never leave but you forgot to close the door. There's a certain feeling to that. To when you realize that the goodmorning texts begin to hiccup. They aren't very good anymore. It's just a morning. There's something to that. Like the way your favorite song isn't your favorite song any more. I guess that's what happened. But I found myself in somebody else's headphones. In someone else's bedtime playlist. I found myself lost in the warmth of a smile that rekindled the fire that died out so long ago. To the eyes that caught me at first sight. To the door that finally closed.
Sep 2016 · 643
The Last in the Pack
marcos Sep 2016
Can you feel the nostalgia in the air? Like someone lit off a firecracker in the back of your head and suddenly, time stops. There's an urgent whisper to the wind. And I swear it feels like the way you smile. Do you get it? It's warm. And true. There's a feeling to it that I thought I could never feel again. But I see it in the way you walk into the room. The way the cigarettes disappear out of my pack and I'm left with the upside down one. And I'm okay with it. I feel like I'm with you. Even when I'm not. And while everyone is looking at the moon hoping that someone is seeing what they see and wishing for what they want, I'm sitting on my porch watching my dog howl at the moon while the smoke howls at the wind. It's an exchange you see. There is nothing about it that doesn't seem worth it if it brings me closer to you. If maybe my wish could come true.
I don't actually smoke cigarettes lol
Sep 2016 · 1.3k
Blue
marcos Sep 2016
You ever see someone or something so beautiful you just stare? Like when you catch the sunset shining through the branches at just the right angle? Or like the old tree with the initials of time-worn lovers? I think it's like when the waves crash against the rocks. When you stick your head out of the sunroof on the highway. When you can feel the color blue. You are blue. They are blue. You don't realize it but you know what blue feels like. Think about the colors. Focus. Think about your next move. But not too much. Don't focus on the way her lips curve and how they're the same color as good red wine. Don't focus on her eyes where you see stars. But the really pretty ones where if you stare for a while they start changing colors. Remember way back what you did last time. But don't repeat it. Follow the stars. Love is not a playlist that can be looped and shuffled. It can only go on. They have to be your favorite artist. A mixtape called "Blue". Where each song takes you to a wide open field where flowers bloom. To the theatre where you saw everything you wanted in star-crossed lovers. The sun sets and the trees can't help but let the light flow right through them. Be like the trees. Strong. But let it happen. Because maybe it's just the right angle for once.
Aug 2016 · 816
Train Station
marcos Aug 2016
Hey! Do you remember me?
Because I remember you. The girl with the sunkissed cheeks that were as rosy as mine the first time I tried to forget.
Well I guess I should say each time, because that smile that rests in between those cheeks still hurts.
I don't like that hurt.
I try to drown the fire burning me up from the inside with more fire, hoping it wont hurt so bad anymore.
Hey, do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?
I want to say it happened.
I would like to say it happened.
I wonder if it happened.
Maybe it was something I felt but never recieved like the apology when you took a piece of me with you, without even leaving a note on the refrigerator.
And to this day, I wonder what piece that was.
I wonder if the fridge magnet with the picture of both of us that you took wouldve spelled it out.
Hey do you remember when we first met?
I can't remember anymore.
I remember a couple books and lots of blank stares, the sound of an air conditioner that barely worked.
That smile got me every time.
I remember when I first saw you and thought I knew where rainbows came from.
Or where ice cream comes from.
Where all things good come from!
Hey do you remember when I asked you what kind of music you listened to?
And you said everything.
And I said hey me too! Even though it probably wasn't really true.
Hey did you feel something when you left?
Did you feel like maybe you messed up?
Did you ever think you were okay but a couple hours later you find yourself under the covers feeling like nothing can help the spinning walls in your room that howl how they miss you?
Like that feeling where you feel like you forgot something, then convince yourself you have everything, and then a while later realize what you forgot and how stupid you are for not realizing?
Hey do you miss my rambling?
You said it made you laugh.
That you would never get tired of it.
Hey do you miss me?
I really miss you. Not often. But it comes and goes like the way everyone does, I guess.
I'm getting used to it.
I wish people would stay.
Hey do you think that this time, maybe just maybe, you could stay?
Jun 2016 · 337
Good Morning
marcos Jun 2016
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I was just kidding!"
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I'm sorry."
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I don't know what I was thinking."
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I was stupid."
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I miss you."
I keep hoping that when I wake up, I'll get a text from you saying "I love you."
I'm not a hopeful person but I hope that one day you understand I wanted to give the world to you.
I still do.
May 2016 · 312
An Outcry
marcos May 2016
I've never been more happy,
than when you told me you were ready.
So when you pulled back your offer,
I started to think that maybe I'm just not the kind of currency you need.
But I'd like to believe one day you'll take me.
For now, I just hope you call.
Jan 2016 · 428
Incisions
marcos Jan 2016
I hope
When they cut me
Open
Your name
Is etched
In gold.

And I hope
When they see
Your name
They can picture
Your smile
The way I did.
Dec 2015 · 636
At Least I Tried
marcos Dec 2015
I don't regret writing poems for you.
The ink I laid to paper couldn't paint my feelings but I tried.
I tried so hard to make you hear me.
I tried so hard to shout into the void and I tried even harder to hear you.
But sometimes things just aren't meant to be.
Sometimes the ink runs.
But it happened for a reason and for that,
I don't regret falling in love with you.
marcos Dec 2015
The way he held the door open for my mom was so normal.
The 6 foot 3 inches tall man with a bald head and beard that held forests,
the beer gut that held all the tears he held back,
the tattoos all across his arms and knuckles.
When he held the door open for my mom, I thought nothing of it.
A simple gesture that we're taught of when we're young, it meant nothing.
He made sure his body was parallel with the door, avoiding any chance of contact.
And I wasn't sure why that was until I saw him again,
right after 3 pops.
You see, the burly gentleman wasn't so much of a gentleman,
but a thief.
Because I saw him run out with blood on his shirt,
a piece in his hand,
and stuffed pockets.
The way he ran out, was anything but gentle.
There was no holding the door for the older woman about to walk in,
but a single gunshot to the gut.
4 gunshots, 3 victims,
and 2 now motherless children.
You should know he got away.
My mother is dead.
And I don't let people hold doors for me anymore.
just a little creative writing
Dec 2015 · 262
A Lie
marcos Dec 2015
She left and I'm okay.
Dec 2015 · 385
A Broken Beauty
marcos Dec 2015
There was once a girl,
who decided to lay her heart in front of her,
and let someone hold it for her.
And he held it, kept it warm, beating.
Her rosy cheeks were a testament to the warmth he extracted.
The sun could not compare to the warm feeling in her stomach.
Because,
there was somebody to hold her heavy heart for her.
One day,
he decided he couldn't hold her beautiful heart any longer.
He dropped it,
watched it roll away,
and didn't bother to stay to make sure she found it.
The beautiful girl with the dark hair,
rosy cheeks,
and adorable giggle,
was now a hollow shell.
I remember the first time I heard her giggle.
I realized her shell has amazing acoustics,
because I could hear everything she was thinking:
"Please don't hurt me too."
But you don't have to worry about me.
When I find your heart, I'll make sure to hold it for you.
Until you can hold it yourself.
Written for a friend I care about a lot. She's that friend who never deserves the **** treatment she gets.
Dec 2015 · 262
Heartbreak
marcos Dec 2015
I'm so tired of this type of pain.
I hope too much.
Dec 2015 · 304
Thief
marcos Dec 2015
Liars are the worst type of people.
I'm not talking about those that tell little fibs like,
"I'm fine."
Or
"It's okay."
Or even the occasional,
"It's nothing."
I'm referring to those that refuse to answer questions.
Look me in the ******* eye when you speak; when you steal a piece of me.
Stop moving your ******* hands like you're getting ready to swing.
Keep your ******* legs still, quit shaking; you're doing enough as it is.
I need your honesty.
How can I progress when your words halt my path?
How can I progress when I'm blind to the correct path?
You want so much of me but can't answer my ******* questions with truth.
I don't need your pity, I need you to point me in the right directon.
Very angry. Sorry.
Dec 2015 · 276
Cold
marcos Dec 2015
My throat is raw and when I cough, there's blood.
But I'll still sing for you.
Dec 2015 · 314
Gazing
marcos Dec 2015
The night sky has never looked more beautiful.
The vivacity of the dancing stars pulls my gaze upward.
Mesmerized by the beauty embodied within each one,
I felt like a supernova, about to burst at any given moment.
I can't begin to explain the inner mechanisms of the universe.
The mundane black of the sky holds its own wonders.
We need only keep searching.
Dec 2015 · 486
Soul Searching
marcos Dec 2015
I hope you find someone who kisses your cheek and tucks you in when you fall asleep.
I hope you find someone who already has a movie put in waiting for you to come home.
I hope you find someone who can order your food for you.
I hope you find someone your mother likes.
I hope you find someone who holds a grudge against your elementary school bullies just like you do.
I hope you find someone who lays on your chest while you're watching tv.
I hope you find someone your dog can cuddle, or cat can cozy up against.
I hope you find someone that makes you snort when you laugh.
I hope you find someone that answers every out of place phone call with, "Are you okay?"
I hope you find someone that tells you they love you in front of friends and company.
I hope you find someone.

I hope you find someone that supports every decision you've ever made.
Those decisions led you to them,
and if they realize that:
Congratulations, you found your someone.
Dec 2015 · 847
Purity
marcos Dec 2015
I'm no stranger to drugs.

I look young,
but I can't say the same for my lungs.
My eyes have seen some ****,
oh but they are always up for another hit.
Pupils are used to the dilation,
that comes with the apparitions.
And my nostrils are hallways,
always ready to lead me to a bright, jumpy day.

But there is no way of purchasing the greatest feeling, no type of currency.
There is no drug, no alcohol that compares to love and its potency.
Oh my, I wish I could tell you where to find it.
Hook you up with a dealer that can sell you a hit.
I would sell my soul to get a dime bag of that pure, untouched substance.
Put it directly in my veins, let it travel to my heart, feel the sustenance.

The truth is, I just want to feel alive.
I want to feel like pure ecstasy, all the time, every moment of my life.
I've lost that feeling given to us by the gods,
and will do anything to find it, against all odds.
Oh darling, oh dear give me what little you have left.
This life is cruel, and my addiction even more so, please come death.
Death, put a rest to my thirst.
But give me a taste first.

I'm no stranger to drugs.
But babygirl, I'm fienin' for your love.
Dec 2015 · 732
Words from My Person
marcos Dec 2015
"I need a really long hug and a kiss on my forehead. I need to be serenaded to and told crazy stories about magical things that can never happen but we believe they will. I need to be held sometimes and some other times I might sound distant, but it's not that. I need someone to watch sappy Christmas movies with in the summer and I need someone to help me define love without falling in love because I'm too young to fall in love but I want to be lost in it. I want to be lost in someone in the worst way. I want to know someone like the back of my hand and be able to finish their sentences and order their food for them because I know what they hate and are allergic to. I need to feel this. I need someone that's like a sibling but not so much because I might want to kiss them once in a blue moon. I need to match with someone and look into their eyes and know that it's ok. Because sometimes things aren't ok... But everyone need their person. Their person that they go to and tell everything to, even some things they shouldn't. Because that's a soulmate. It's not about being in love it's just about loving. I need to sing old songs with my person and cry on their shoulder about stupid stuff because I'm feeling sensitive (which is actually often. I cried when my mom made the enchiladas different) I need someone that I don't have to try with. I need a me. I need someone who is like me, but different... So it never gets boring. Genuine. I have these insane dreams and I just need someone to share them with. To paint this canvas called life. I need help painting it and I want to paint it with my person. I'm just as needy as I am independent and it's the worst combination because I feel like I'm 50 people in one. I contradict myself all the time and I need someone to understand that. I need someone who understands that I'm bad and I'm good all together. I make mistakes but I can do some things so perfectly. That I do cry sometimes but it does not mean I'm depressed!! That I do get super happy but it doesn't mean I'm some freak optimist. That not everything has a deeper meaning. I need that. I need someone to try new foods with and ***** with when they're really gross! I need someone to make jokes with and that even though we make fun of other people we don't actually mean it. I need someone to make the world seem like it's not all that bad and that time doesn't exist when we are together... Something like a Nick & Nora's music playlist. I want to feel like I'm on drugs all the time without doing them. Pure ecstasy. I need someone to understand me because I don't understand me AT ALL. Like at all. I need to find my missing piece."
I love the way she thinks. She's great. I hope she finds the missing piece in me.
Dec 2015 · 1.3k
A World in Harmony
marcos Dec 2015
I've always wondered what drives the hate felt towards each other.
How man discovered love and then hate all in an instant.
I wonder what happened.
How we lost our way.
How we decided one color was more beautiful than another.
How we decided some beliefs were wrong and some were right when the only way of knowing was visiting the after life but that's just it.
We can't.
Yet we waste our lives away hating.
Instead of living.
From the time of Romeo and Juliet to the Bloods and the Crips.
From the Holocaust to the Middle East.
And it's still ongoing.
Generation after generation undergoing the aftermath of the previous and it's shrugged off in textbooks.
History.
I don't want to believe that as the conclusion, that there is no hope for a better ending.
Each and every person on this planet has a beating heart and working lungs.
We are all in this together.
There's not enough time to count the stars in the sky, or the fish in the sea, but there is enough time to love each other.
Nov 2015 · 1.7k
Love; a Necessity
marcos Nov 2015
Everyone deserves a person that makes them want to write poems about the way they feel despite illiteracy.
Everyone deserves a person that makes them want to sing to the heavens about their wonderful voice as tone deaf as they may be.
Everyone deserves a person that makes them want to fill canvases with the colors of their beautiful body despite being colorblind.
Everyone deserves a person that make them want to dance despite the self-diagnosis of two left feet.
Everyone deserves their person.
Everyone deserves a person that defines falling in love before falling cause knowing where you're going to land before you trip is always a beautiful comfort.
Everyone deserves their soulmate who can pick them up when they fall.

I found mine.
Don't cast friendship aside as an unnecessary step to love. You miss out.
marcos Nov 2015
I think your smile is so perfect,
I love the way it makes me feel like I can fly.

I can't tell you how happy it made me when you layed on my shoulder.
Or how happy it made me when you let me lay on your lap.

Please don't break my heart again.
I love you too much to bear by myself.
I need to feel your touch when I don't want anyone else's.

The truth is, I look into your eyes like I see the stars in them.
The truth is, the twinkles I see make me feel alive, and I can't let that go.
My eyes don't really deserve to look into yours.

When you move around I always have to look at you to make sure you're okay.
I don't want to think you're uncomfortable.
I want my shoulder to feel like pillows of the finest feathers.

When you would wrap your arm around mine,
and you'd snuggle up next to me,
I couldn't remember all the bad things our history holds.

I need you more than you think I do.
You're not my only happiness, but please stay.
When I first met you, I never would've thought this is where we'd be.
But I'm so totally okay with what has become of us.

I'm going to protect you always.
I'm not going to let someone wake you up or bother you while you rest.
We had such a long day and I should be sleeping rather than typing this sappy poem,
But I'd rather keep watch over my treasure.
The truth is, I love you.
She's so adorable when she's asleep.
Nov 2015 · 303
Soapbox Speech
marcos Nov 2015
Let me tell you that love is the best and worst feeling.
Listen up, come one and all as I preach about this sensation!
Let me tell you love will build you up and cause your head to break the ceiling.
Listen up as I explain how it rips your heartstrings out in a quick fashion.
Let me tell you that love is addicting like the best ******* drug out there.
Listen up as I fill you with its black magic visions and thoughts.
Let me tell you about the way love makes you feel bare.
Listen up as I tell you, don't ever give up on someone who loves you lots.
Here's to hoping that I don't hurt myself waiting for you. I love you too much to give up.
Nov 2015 · 326
The Best Years of Our Life
marcos Nov 2015
You often hear that high school is a place to find yourself,
That it's the best years of our lives.
I'm not saying it's not true,
But I'm definitely not saying it is.

First of all,
Everyone is having ***.
Parties, study sessions, bathroom visits; it doesn't ******* matter.
It's just all about who's banging who.

The drugs are arguably the best part.
The drugs are just meaningless because to most of us, they're just a high.
But they are such a vital part of who we become.
The blow and the bud made me see life is better without it.

Rock and roll, oh rock and roll.
How you kept me company on those lonely nights.
The lyrics always seemed to match us.
And the melodies were always parallel to how we felt.

Love; **** love.
I hate the phrase, "It's just a high school relationship."
Just because we are not adults, with a **** job and ******-up debt-ridden life,
Doesn't mean we don't know pain.
It doesn't ******* mean that it means nothing.
It doesn't ******* mean that we don't know what true love is.
True love was staying up all night, talking on the phone.
True love was talking about nothing for hours but never pressing pause on our smiles.
True love was her face, walking down the halls, looking at each other like they were worth diamonds and just being together.
Don't ever tell me that I don't know.
I know; I had it ripped away.

It's said high school is the best years of our life.
And it's true.
If you can take the pain and learn from it,
You'll understand that life is ****** from the get-go.
Sorry if it's sloppy. This is too raw for refinement.
Nov 2015 · 328
Please Call Again
marcos Nov 2015
I can't stop thinking about all the nights you called
and asked if I really loved you.
I'm sure I said yes
every time.
Things aren't okay
Nov 2015 · 310
Untitled
marcos Nov 2015
You became my night and day,
my only source of happiness.
It took me so long to realize,
That's not okay.
Nov 2015 · 308
Polaroid
marcos Nov 2015
The pictures I take
Are Polaroids meant for you.
You're so beautiful.
Nov 2015 · 292
Exhaustion
marcos Nov 2015
I'm getting tired of feeling alone.
I'm getting tired of this broken home.
I'm getting tired of the sun not shining how it used to.
I'm getting tired of how much I love you.
I'm getting tired of not having a stable platform.
I'm getting tired of my love sounding foreign.
I'm so tired of you not answering the phone.
I'm so tired of being alone.
I really need help right now
Nov 2015 · 569
Untitled
marcos Nov 2015
I'm disappointed
In the way you just gave up.
You're stronger than that.

I'm disappointed
In your ever selfish thoughts.
You cannot leave us.

I'm disappointed
In the way the birds don't sing.
Do you get it now?

I'm disappointed
That you didn't understand
How important you were.
Nov 2015 · 411
Please Listen
marcos Nov 2015
I need you to know why I feel the way I do.
I need you to know that although I'm **** at expressing my thoughts, I think you're the love of my life.
I need you to know that although I don't say it, I love you more than you'll ever know.
I need you to know that the words I write about you are part of a dictionary that is my heart;
The similes, smiles
The sounds, melodies.
I need you to know that I will never be tired of you, bored of you;
My feelings are so true they hurt sometimes.
I need you to know how I feel.
I need you to know you are my everything.
marcos Nov 2015
My words don't always have a meaning behind them.
But the words I project are my heart's solemn anthem.

My poetry is imperfect; a mess of paint spilled on a canvas.
Through the colors though, I was able to see a purpose.
Putting my thoughts into a stanza keeps me sane.
Putting my thoughts onto paper is the rainbow after the rain.

My ideas range from puppies to the way I was left alone.
From the time my first dog died in my lap to the thought of college loans.
You see, I'm not the slightest bit okay;
However, my internal struggles will lose to my positivity day after day.

I can't tell you my origins in writing.
I can't tell you why it is I can't ever control my thinking.
My thought process is so god-awfully in disrepair,
And maybe all it needs is a breath of fresh air.

I miss my first dog Boy.
I hate the thought of student loans drowning me in debt and having to deploy.
I hate that I can't put an intermission in my concert of agony.
I miss the many days of my boyhood when I didn't have to worry.

I realized my flawed poetry in the many times I reread my past works.
However, don't you dare tell me they aren't of any worth.
Nov 2015 · 605
Keep Going
marcos Nov 2015
Why is it we fight for only that which affects us?
You see, we are all in this grand scheme singing a grand chorus.
I can't begin to fathom the depths of the hatred in some souls.
To hate somebody with every fiber of your being without actually knowing them, as if you've walked a day in their soles.

1 in 12 trans humans are killed in a violent fashion.
1 in 8 if their skin color is of the colored version.
You don't know a single thing about the fight these strong beings undergo.
And you know even less about the thoughts they can't show.

It's embedded in us to root for the underdog in a contest.
But imagine an empty corner even though they're the best.
Imagine the feelings felt from former friends.
Imagine their bitter ends.
"It's just morally wrong..."
Can't you understand they've felt this way all along?

I think it's beautiful to embrace the inner workings of our mind.
It is not weakness to be one of a kind.
Never feel you are alone.
There are 7 billion people on this planet and we all have a light that's meant to be shown.
Our looks do not define us.
We are celestial beings formed from scattered stardust.
If you don't think that's beautiful, then I feel sorry for you.
I feel sorry that your perspective of beauty is so detrimentally blue.

Look at the world and its colors in full.
Never believe you are not beautiful.
Nov 2015 · 428
Coping
marcos Nov 2015
You let me down easy.
In a way I couldn't process correctly.
Made it seem like everything I'd done was just cheesy,
And crushed my innards so completely.

Like a magician, you pulled my heart out of a hat,
And made it disappear.
Fed it to the rabbit, then fed him to a cat,
Abandoning all compassion with the words, "I'm sorry, dear."

You told me that I was great and deserved better,
But never once considered that maybe that's not what I wanted.
That maybe all I wanted was to feel like I mattered,
Like my cells weren't just meant to be wasting away underground infested;
With your false hope.

The many times we locked eyes,
The many times you made my heart leap,
Felt like nothing more than lies,
And made my love feel less than cheap.

It takes me back to the sugar,
When I felt like I could conquer the world.
And didn't need you as a supporter.
You sent me into a whirl.

You took the little sanity I had stowed away,
Stowed away for a rainy day,
Days like this where my one instinct was one more line,
Feeling like there was no more time.

I couldn't go back,
Yet I couldn't move forward.
You threw me, the mouse, on my back,
Tossed me into the maze and said, "sorry you just can't be my world."

I'm sorry I was so imperfect.
I'm sorry I couldn't give you reasons why I deserved you.
I'm sorry I was different.
I'm sorry my love was so impromptu.

The lines are getting longer.
They're starting to burn now.
The drip is getting stronger.
And the jump is getting fowl.

I'm tired of feeling worthless.
And I'm tired of feeling low.
I'm even more tired of these feelings seeming endless.
But the truth is, I never felt this way with the snow.

The white made me feel transparent,
Like nobody could see my heart on my sleeve.
The rock made me feel existent,
Like the jitters, and the way they made me feel,
"At ease."

I never once felt that I needed the powder when I was with you,
Nor did I feel like it would help.
I didn't feel that I needed the feeling amplified and anew.
I felt that what you gave me was enough, like I was top shelf.

So don't you dare make me feel like I wasted my time.
Don't you dare make me think that the time I spent with you was meaningless.
I cannot begin to fathom the audacity of this crime.
Don't make me feel like a broken Christmas.

I can't go back.
There is nothing for me there with the white.
I want to feel like you were my black,
Like I would be alright,
The palette had only two colors,
And I couldn't describe the light,
So you left me with locked doors,
And said "find your way though the night."

But that was just it.
I couldn't.
I needed to feel like I was a candle being lit.
But ****, you wouldn't.

I'm laying here alone,
Wishing I could still hold your hand.
Gravity pushing me down like a drowning stone.
I'll gently sink now; become one with the land.
very much okay now
marcos Oct 2015
It never stops pouring over you.
I've noticed that, in spite of everyone calling you beautiful,
the feeling never rang true to you.

I met you a little over a year ago,
and I had never believed in love at first sight.
But when I saw you awkwardly smiling at nothing,
and heard you giggle at the sound of my jokes,
I couldn't help but feel like I had done something right.
I couldn't help but feel I saw something to love in those eyes.

It took me a little over half a year to build the courage to talk to you.
You see, it wasn't the distance of you being across the class that stopped me.
The devil on my shoulder pulled my strings until I was able to break free.
And I've never had a regret as strong as not talking to you sooner.
The sun suddenly shined brighter and the flowers bloomed in color.
My stutter stopped choking me and my confidence grew like you planted a magic bean in it.

However your view wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.
Your everyday battles were there as inevident as they were.
The naked eye could not see it as hard as they tried,
yet I found myself straining my eyes to see.
I couldn't give you my happiness.
My once clammy hands could not transfer my feelings of joy.

I came to find out about your last love.
How you came out of your shell and he rejected everything about you.
He rejected every aspect of you and left you alone.
My only job now is to be the mechanic, the tuner, the love of your life.
Your broken heartstrings, in disrepair needed artisan hands to fix them;
however, my amateur hands did their best.

Little do you know, you fixed me.
Our rainclouds vanished together in unison.
My simple vocabulary can't find the words to describe you, my love.

But please believe me when I say you're beautiful.
to my special someone. I love you, sweets.
Oct 2015 · 571
Seasons; Your Presence
marcos Oct 2015
Spring came and the flowers bloomed.
By then, hope was at an all time high.
When summer came, flames of light engulfed the ground.
By then hope was nigh.
Autumn came and went in an instant, leaving us with a new color palette of leaves.
There was a sense of renewal in the air, like having hope was alright.
As winter came, and the snow fell around,
My heart said I wasn't wrong to feel the way I did.
When spring came around again,
I realized,
The seasons will always return, but you never will.

— The End —