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Jul 2013 · 3.0k
Friends with Benefits
Miranda Renea Jul 2013
Him:* I think it goes without saying that you and I are pretty much already set on being friends with benefits, and I want you to know that I'm not going to fall in love with you, and not looking for a relationship at this point in my life. And there are other people that I will be seeing.

I don't know what love is, but I know these past few days I haven't been able to keep my mind off of you.

Him: And if that's anything you're not comfortable with, or your expectations are any different, then it shouldn't happen.

But I want it to.

Him: But the last thing I want is anyone being hurt, and I feel like the best way to avoid that is making sure we don't have different expectations.

Pain is an old friend of mine...*

Me: Nope, I'm cool with that.
Miranda Renea Jul 2013
There was a war that day between
A little girl and a red balloon.
"Fly!" said the girl to the balloon,
"Fly me away, take me away from here!"
"Be still!" Said the balloon to the child,
"If freedom is peace, we've found it here.
If freedom is peace, we've found it here."
Inspired by the lovely La Dispute!
Jul 2013 · 736
Red
Miranda Renea Jul 2013
Red
I just feel like I want to bleed.

Have you ever stared at your skin,
And imagined sweet red,
Tickling as it caressed your skin,
Oozing down,
Leaving trails like tears?
It feels almost cool,
But maybe that's because my veins froze over.
It feels almost calming,
But maybe that's because it's the perfect distraction.

Oh, you haven't felt that way you say?
Well maybe I'm just demented.
Jun 2013 · 812
Black, pt. 2
Miranda Renea Jun 2013
Love over ***, this society opens useless, loud sentimentalism

Deriving riddles into notions, kept in niche killings.

But, uselessness tethers one, namely lost youth. With it their heads ever remember

Waiting in the heart that had to witness each agonizing time help exhumed ridicule.

Love intended kindness, except roses only smell exhaustively sweet.

Remember each death-

And never deem days eternal as death.

Believe unanimously that the heart ever yearns and remembers each battle, each animosity.  Unaware, there it finds unanswerable love.

Youth owns ubiquity, kindness now opens worlds.
Read the first letter of each word- I fit a poem within a poem.
Jun 2013 · 815
Fade
Miranda Renea Jun 2013
I
Face a dream ending,
And wait, another year.
I turned this into a song, if you'd like to listen or download for free, check it out at https://soundcloud.com/miranda-santoro/fade
Jun 2013 · 605
Death Is Final
Miranda Renea Jun 2013
Dreams endure, and time hangs.
Intentionally sleeping,
Finite images nudge and lessen.
Notice the first letter of each word.
May 2013 · 467
Death (five words)
Miranda Renea May 2013
Dreams
Endure,
And
Time
Hangs.
May 2013 · 1.8k
Liars
Miranda Renea May 2013
It's kind of funny.
I see all these girls,
Beautiful girls,
Perfect hair,
Perfect body,
Perfect skin,
Talk of pain.
Write of pain.
Cry of pain.

But what of pain
Do they really know?
Don't love me,
They say,
I am broken-
I am insignificant-
I have walls-
And every man
Falls into their hand
Like they planned,
I suppose.

It angers me,
You see, for

I am lacking
Perfect hair,
A perfect body,
And perfect skin.
I talk of pain.
I write of pain.
I cry of pain but,

I am alone.
May 2013 · 501
Dream #1
Miranda Renea May 2013
The soul lost his body, after going into the cave
and discovering everything. In the middle of traffic its
body fell but its soul didn't, and the soul dubbed cloaks
and masks because it could still wear those, and because it was
afraid, it didn't know what had happened.

Researchers took what the soul had found- a vile of a
mystery substance and something else, which was
dropped and lost in the mud. they called the substance
magic.

A researcher found proof of actual angels so he took
a few people in to experience it. Put a drop of magic
on their tongues and turned off the lights- (3 people,
he had brought) and had them take pictures of an old
slideshow going through photographs of faces and
silhouettes so fast you couldn't even see them. The
film was old cinema.

The first person's pictures were blurry, but
showed white blurs behind people's backs, in
the shape of wings.

My photos were of precise
and clear faces, the same white blur behind
their heads. (The face of the man the most important,
stands out as dearest in my head.)

The third person's photos were supposed to be
the best, but they were lost in the same mud,
with a cat pawing them in.
A dream I had.
Apr 2013 · 704
Useless (I feel)
Miranda Renea Apr 2013
Undermining one's
Self is almost
Effortless.
Lethal injections
Easily ******,
Such a
Silent surrender.
Apr 2013 · 387
9
Miranda Renea Apr 2013
9
I saw a ghost on a fogged up window.
I saw a man with a gun in his hand.
Both are red,
One is just less transparent.
Miranda Renea Apr 2013
Hey here I am again
Breaking,
Falling to the ground again
Wishing that someone would help me up.
But of course no one hears
My silent cries of help
So I sit here,
Broken.
I just found this, the very first poem I've ever seriously written. I was in 7th grade and 12 years old at the time, which shows just how lovely of a child I was. It's literally the poem that started my personal career as a writer, and 6 years later I've yet to stop.
Apr 2013 · 679
Jesse
Miranda Renea Apr 2013
Take me back four summers ago,
Where the sun shined brighter and
Dreams alighted from my tongue like
Fireflies in the twilighted distance,
Because unrequited love can be beautiful
Like I've never been.

I still remember.
Even if my name but a memory long forgotten,
My heart molded to the shape of a hand
I'd never hold, but that didn't matter.
It was a silent and sad surrender,
A bittersweet but beautiful blunder.
Apr 2013 · 594
Dream #2
Miranda Renea Apr 2013
Person came. Black, black dressy clothes
Abnormally high heart-rate
"Because there is another soul,
Sharing your body."
"Are you an angel?" I ask
No answer.
Other people come into the room (a pub in London) and I am distracted a moment.
I look back,
He's gone.

Another room, another man.
We kissed.
He was soaked in water.

A small town,
I look over, see a wall.
Know it is the edges of my consciousness
I jump over.
Everything is foggy, broken toys scattered everywhere.
grass startlingly green,
hills gently rolling, trees scarce.
I decide to explore.
I fly and find other islands, a great many, some barren
Now missiles are shooting at me-
The other soul is angry.
A dream I had.
Mar 2013 · 1.4k
Torture
Miranda Renea Mar 2013
They'll take
Over. To
Remember is
To die.
Unanimously
Remain, or
Endure forever.
Something short and sweet I thought of while reading George Orwell's 1984.
Feb 2013 · 983
Witch With a Capital "B"
Miranda Renea Feb 2013
You play love as if it were a game,
How many girls with your words can you woo?
No offense, but your lines are pretty lame,
Any self-respecting girl would take leave on that cue.

Your attempts at flattery are ridden with deception,
The true intention of your attraction you keep in shade,
True love is not in conception,
I know you just want to get laid.

To be honest you're not even cute.
Oh, now has the cat got your tongue?
You might as well just stay mute,
I'm really not sorry if you feel stung.

And anyways, don't you think we're a little young?
Only seniors in high school,
No need to shove a tongue down my lung.
And anyways, you're kind of a tool.

Speaking of which, you're not as big as your ego
(If you know what I mean.)
You've got nothing good to show,
And obviously of you I'm not very keen.

So thus is my way to reject.
I've tried push, now push comes to shove
And with your small point you've made so *****
A person like you I just couldn't love.
A silly english project in which I took the persona of a "witch" rejecting a boy. Not much effort was put forth, but I still think it's entertaining.
Feb 2013 · 991
Josh
Miranda Renea Feb 2013
I met a man with a wife.
She was beautiful-
Eyes as wide as the sky,
Just as blue, too.
Her hair was long and golden,
Falling past her chest,
Just to her midriff.

It was late when he first saw me,
Four years younger than he,
Plain in comparison to any other-
But lack of beauty didn't seem to matter.
And so he spoke-
Begged for me to follow.

But who is worse?
The unfaithful man,
A broken promise, a sham,
Or the young woman,
Not ignorant to his ring,
At lack of love for wanting
To pretend that promise was hers?

And what is love,
But a broken promise?
A broken ring?
I'm not sure it matters, but,
He said he was a Christian.
Feb 2013 · 523
35
Miranda Renea Feb 2013
35
I asked God today if I was a terrible person.
I think he answered yes.
I got a call a few hours later-
Hostile words,
Grow up!
It's disgusting!
And that was that.
So I hung up the phone.
I counted the rings,
Each one a stab in the chest.
35, Mother.
Miranda Renea Feb 2013
"Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.
Nor was it ever, sever every tie, tonight we ride. Tonight we ride.

And how we've trembled at the way that time's
assembled little fires of desire in the tundra of our skin.
So, do yourself a little favor, savor every time you waver
for that shaking in my voice was only slyly feigned chagrin.
Tonight we ride."

"Oh, Lover, uncover. I know it's warm beneath your sheets
and there is ice along the streets but listen—Lover, we will recover.
But we've no time to waste with meddling in affairs
we've locked so tightly in our dreams.
We are not clean, we are not pure, we can not rest until we're sure.
So, rob your pretty little eyes of sleep's disguise.
I'm at your bedside with a bucket full of lies.
So, clear your ears and listen---

Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.

But I know what is."

And to the glorious past:

You've opened my window but broken the glass.
And I beseech thee, 'shed thy beauty.'
For as a child leaves the womb and learns the cold,
you have taught us perils in the present,
and you will bring us peril in our surely-soon-to-be. Unless…

The river's not flooded this time.

Oh, Precious Distance,
Oh, Precious Pain,
You've given me a name. And
Etched it in the stones of the river bank.

Oh, Precious Distance,
Oh, Precious Pain,
You've given us a name. You've
Given us a name.

"Rise!" Said the King to the River,
"Never let up! No, bring us a flood and bring it hard!"
"Freeze!" Said the Wind to the Water,
"Never give in! No, build us a bridge!
And build it strong and angry.
Let it stills the King's decree.
Oh, you must contemplate the current,
Boy, and command that coward cease.
The boy breathes for his love says, 'I wait.'
His love says, 'I wait.'
She's shouting out, "I will come back. Yes, I will come back!
I will come—I have lived my life so uncomfortably. Darling, come for me.
Come for me."

"Rise!" Said the Boy to his Lover,
"Darling, get up. I've brought you my love, and brought it far!"
"Leave!" Said the Girl to her lover,
"I've given in. If love is a bridge, we built it wrong!"

Curb your anger.
Still your fists.
She will never come back, she'll never come back, she'll never come—
She will never come back, she'll never come back, she'll never come—
Obviously not my work, but nonetheless brilliant so I felt the need to share. It was written by Jordan Dreyer of La Dispute, the song is called Said the King to the River.
Jan 2013 · 1.3k
Confessions of a Drunken Man
Miranda Renea Jan 2013
I hate everything about life,
the only reason I'm alive
is because I don't believe in suicide.
If I died tomorrow,
I'd only see it as this curse
of being alive was finally lifted.

I'd be sad if you died.

You shouldn't,
because life is a burden,
when the burden is lifted,
we can be peaceful in the realm of the dead,
no longer following society's rules
and having to worry about others.

Doesn't that seem so lonely to you?

No, because I've always been lonely,
I don't trust anyone because anyone I've trusted
eventually turned their backs on me,
not caring about how I feel about the situation but
about what they could get out of exploiting
the kind of person I am.

For what it's worth, you can trust me.

I'd rather not,
Because one day you're going to find someone
and forget all about me, it's happened before
and history repeats itself.*

History may repeat itself but I don't plan on being history to you.
A conversation between my friend and I while he was intoxicated.
Jan 2013 · 722
Beautifully Dying
Miranda Renea Jan 2013
I met a girl with fire on her head and in her heart.
Her arms were lined with scars, curved perfectly with the Reaper's Scythe.
She was beautiful, but she didn't know it.

And isn't that the story?
A sad, beautiful little thing saved by a shining knight,
because no one cares unless you're beautiful or dying.
I am neither. So where do I belong?
A young woman- no longer a girl- never graced by lips in adoration or sympathy.
Never known love,
what is love, really?

Can't anyone tell me? Because I'm sitting inside this bricked up wall,
invisible to certainty and all the passerby.
They pass on by, pass me by, can't they see me cry?
This wall is too **** high.  
Just like the last guy.

And I was dead before I was born.
What a cold heart, I'm never warm.
I found the world, but it was broken.
I found love but it was wasted,
Like the last man I tasted.
Jan 2013 · 543
8
Miranda Renea Jan 2013
8
She was dead before she was born.
What a cold heart,
She's never warm.
She found the world, but it was broken.
She found love, but it was wasted,
Like the man.

And they say the devil's sword is the coward's cop-out,
But death makes cowards of us all.
"To be, or not to be, that is the question"
To be! The coward's reaction,
To not! Fierce condemnation.
Dec 2012 · 640
7
Miranda Renea Dec 2012
7
O, insanity,
Beautiful calamity,
What fine lines etched thin.

Spark with me a fire,
Strike in me a tier,
Concomitant fear-
Vade mecum Desire.
Dec 2012 · 368
L
Miranda Renea Dec 2012
L
I said;
'My soul will belong to whom first holds my body,
My body will belong to whom first holds my heart.
My heart will belong to whom first holds my mind,
My mind will belong to whom first holds my attention.'

Stolen;
Was I,
My mind,
My heart,
My body,
My soul.

Now, I vow;
'I will belong to no one.'
Nov 2012 · 589
6
Miranda Renea Nov 2012
6
What is man but brilliance,
Resting upon fingertips,
Painted and sewn into the fabric
Of Time's lonely silhouette?

The fabric that writhes,
And whispers,
Stories cascade from his tongue-
Nature's waterfall.

He is naught but an old man
Weaving in his hand a thread-
The past, the present, the future,
A rope.
Nov 2012 · 463
5
Miranda Renea Nov 2012
5
Tangible is the man, standing.
Labored are the breaths, laying-
Veins paint withered hands blue.
The cries of a dying man
Resonate with a singular purity.

The standing man walks,
Kisses a man now deceased.
Wipes his hands, lips clean-
With a note of finality-
Leaves.
Oct 2012 · 842
4
Miranda Renea Oct 2012
4
Everything is real,
But everything is false.
The contents of the cut-up hourglass
Stick to the beat of my hand,
Running through sands,
Like the tick-tock of a well-worn clock,
Nothing ever lasts.

The rose in loom of a razor blade,
Cut deep into the name of that
Recently deceased, elderly man.
The rose in name of the razor blade
Cut deep into the palm of his hand,
Everything is beautiful.
Everything is real.
But nothing ever lasts.
Oct 2012 · 486
3
Miranda Renea Oct 2012
3
Cinder stones, etched in black,
Erase away my memory.

I climbed a tower, pointed back,
But no one there betokened me.
Sep 2012 · 739
2
Miranda Renea Sep 2012
2
If only time could stop;
The shadow would walk,
Balance along the lines
Of the pocket-watch clock.

Intricate rubies gleam;
The hollow socket's breath
And to see death
Braced by naked teeth.
Sep 2012 · 596
Silence
Miranda Renea Sep 2012
Listen,
The faceless walk into
The mouth of the river.
The river swallows.
The water is gray.
Animosity roars in the ears of the trees,
They sway in anguish, not for the breeze.

Now listen!
The shipwrecked seas see.
The faceless cannot see.
Sep 2012 · 689
1
Miranda Renea Sep 2012
1
'tis a shame!
said the bird
to the bedridden beast,
all shackle and chain,
while the sardonic sun
took a Rabelaisian breath
and a walk on the beach.
Sep 2012 · 424
Monster
Miranda Renea Sep 2012
My
Only way -
Naught, but
Say
To me; love?
Ever to
R**emain; no.
What my mother has a tendency to call me.
Jul 2012 · 449
Heart
Miranda Renea Jul 2012
Concrete, iron, no-
Maybe diamond is best.
Beautiful;
But with price.
Impenetrable,
Cold as ice.

A treasure chest,
Concealed a heart.
Afore it?
A jest.
Jul 2012 · 1.2k
Blew
Miranda Renea Jul 2012
Sometimes the world is white,
Colorless and on flight
With a million, billion tiny stars,
Who really aren't so tiny after all.
Who really chose blue for the sky, anyways?
Some painter's eye,
Not satisfied with conventional things,
Like butterflies.
Or kings with their wings-
They flap around too high for him.
Kings' men too low-
Like the children found in the crowd of a well loved show.
The vocalist vomits words-
They mop it up, loved verses
Shouted at the tips of their tongues,
Out at sea.
Or was it see?
I can't really remember,
Everything is so confused these days;
Who really chose blue for the sky, anyways?
Yellow is a much more fine color.
More satisfactory to feel.
Mellow yellow.
Blue is feeling blue-
And maybe that's why the world is so sad.
Maybe the sky would be red if the world more mad-
But let's be honest, the world is already full of red.
The blood in our veins,
The dead laid to rest underground.
Ever stopped to wonder if their minds are still breathing?
I do, too.
But they're stuck with a decaying body.
And we're stuck with blue.
Jun 2012 · 823
Fred
Miranda Renea Jun 2012
I saw a raindrop fall,
Right on my windowpane.
I gave him a name,
Called him Fred,
Pretended he was my little friend.
But his life was short-lived;
Soon he fell-
Never to live again.
It made me think, though,
My little Fred.
How short is time-
How singular;
Just one short thread.
One short line,
Crossing other raindrops,
Picking up speed,
Racing through life,
Never taking heed of those before.
How silly is this?
Such clipped life-
Crisp.
Hmm-
Silly Misanthropist.
Jun 2012 · 2.4k
Cigarette Butts & Star Dust
Miranda Renea Jun 2012
Have you ever looked at the sky and felt forever?
Like the stars are having conversations behind our backs-
Taking bets,
Sipping on cheap wine and
Smoking cigarettes.

Maybe they're telling stories?
Cracking a joke, drinking a beer, and
Gambling on our silhouettes.
Drunk, they must fall out of the sky and down to earth,
Like their butts created black smoke-
Raining from the atmosphere.

And maybe that's why the world is so ****** up,
Chalk it up to star dust.
They must really enjoy it up there,
Faded in the stratosphere.
Jun 2012 · 421
S.O.S
Miranda Renea Jun 2012
It is

A**
Medical

Condition.
Root around my brain,
All is
Zany.
Yes, just crazy.
-
I hate

All of
Mankind. Well, just

About. I'm
Lost around
One silly
Night. The start of enough
Evenings I don't care to count.
-
Just as I thought,
Underestimation
Seals sickening
Trends. Try to pretend

All is well. But we know better.

Crazies
Live around town, they
Only come out at
Night.. But so does
Everyone else, just about.
-
Hell is where
Everything freezes over. What a
Lovely
Place.
May 2012 · 356
I Live In
Miranda Renea May 2012
Silencing my
Heart
And
Damning my
Only
Wishes-
S**uicidal kisses
May 2012 · 584
The Devil's
Miranda Renea May 2012
Sometimes I don't want to exist anymore,
So I lay in my bed and pretend that I'm air-
(Not really there.)
Think of all the fun!
The places I'd be,
Just flying free. Like the
Breath before a kiss,
So subtle, so pure,
So innate, so warm.

And what if I were a breeze?
Calm and rustling leaves,
Tossing hair to and fro,
Such endless possibilities of where to go!

But.. What if I were more morbid?
More... important?
Like- a last breath?
A dying wish,
Death's final kiss?

Better to be that than this,
Better to not exist;
Sweet bliss...
*Kiss, kiss, kiss.
May 2012 · 464
Ink
Miranda Renea May 2012
Ink
It's the beat of a drum,
The clap of a man.
A solemn dispair,
Gasping for air,
Shame like a cloak.
It's walking,
Orchestrated by a man
With crossed out eyes,
A symphony.
It's everything that once was,
Is now,
And forever will be.
It's the song of the world.
It's the beat of forever.
Inspired by the movie.
May 2012 · 961
Suffering
Miranda Renea May 2012
Everything is broken.
So broken I don't know where the first tear began,
Perhaps it was always there.
I don't know what's worse,
The pain you cause me or
The pain I cause myself by hurting you-
Unintentionally.
Is it my fault?
My creator, my mother.
Why do we hate?
May 2012 · 491
People
Miranda Renea May 2012
People are like flowers-
They die a lot.
They grow, into beautiful beings-
Then wilt, when they change.

People are a lot like wind-
You can't see them.
Or rather, their personalities-
You must act on faith.

People are like seasons-
They come and go, ebb and flow
One into another-
Where they go? You'll never know.
Miranda Renea May 2012
Mirror, mirror, on the wall-
**** the man that lets me fall.
Cupid had it wrong,
I was never really all that strong-
'till now.

Dear love,
You don't exist.
Signed,
A silly pessimist.
An optimist on saddened days-
Contradictions always my way.
Apr 2012 · 1.3k
Cute
Miranda Renea Apr 2012
Break my heart into tiny pieces,
Throw them into waves.
Say goodbye until another day,
'Cause I'm swimmin' away.
Smile here to stay.

Now I'm gonna be the first to learn how to fly,
And ride these clouds like ships.
The sky my newfound ocean,
The winds a tide
To navigate me from side to side.

How far can I really soar?
Imagination, carry me afar. Journey me afar.

Now stars like sitting in the sky,
Just sippin' their tea,
Laughing at all our attempts to make sense
Of everything that we see.
Silly astronomy.

So I'll sit on the milky way,
Just sippin' my tea.
Laughing at all of your attempts,
To just break free.
Silly gravity.

How far can I really soar?
Imagination carry me afar, journey me afar.
I turned this into a song, and play it on my guitar and sing it. c:
Apr 2012 · 1.3k
Typical.
Miranda Renea Apr 2012
Hey, look at me.
Skin shown, cleavage down to my toes.
I know how to make them look,
I can make them want.

I'm the heart-breaker,
Twirl you around my perfectly manicured finger,
I know how to  breathe.
I know how to ******.

I'm the girl everyone wants to be.
Perfectly advertised, desirable.
Beauty, intelligence
All pertains to me.

Who am I?
I'm every teenage girl, who
Has no self-esteem.
Who lies, cheats, and manipulates, just to be seen.

And I have a question,
Still want to be me?
Written in 10th grade, a little bit of a different style for me.
Apr 2012 · 376
Little Girl
Miranda Renea Apr 2012
"Hey now, little girl,
don't you cry.
Everything will be all right,
if you just try.
Believe in yourself,
as hard as it seems,
and all that will come true,
are the best of your dreams."
That's what they tell you,
every single one.
That's what they whisper to you,
every single tongue.
"Believe in your dreams," they say,
"and all will come alive.
Jumping out of your minds,
and into your lives."
But you should know, little girl,
that they tell you lies.
Written in 7th grade, when I was 13.
Apr 2012 · 393
We All Are
Miranda Renea Apr 2012
Capable only of
Loneliness,
One too many
Nights. Forevermore,
Ever the
S**ame.
Apr 2012 · 635
Real
Miranda Renea Apr 2012
They say,
"A poem a day keeps the razors away."
Wait, you mean to say it's
An apple a day keeps the doctor away?
**** that.
I was never one for optimistic crap.
Apr 2012 · 636
Note
Miranda Renea Apr 2012
I go to bed sick,
And I wake up seething.
I look down at my chest,
I'm pretty sure it's bleeding.
Freezing, right to the core-
'Till I'm numb, feel nothing more.
I'm not even sure I'm breathing.
Fine lines etched;
Secret. Permanent moments of believing,
In tiny little lines.
At least I know I'm leaving.
Suicide?
Silly.

Like me.
Apr 2012 · 589
E
Miranda Renea Apr 2012
E
Entropy
Expand ambivalence,
Extol catastrophe.
Everything always,
Each to his own.
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