modelb0nes

modelb0nes Sep 2013

soft fall,
empty love notes

she cursed at her cursive writing, it having absolutely nothing to do with how horrible she (thought) she was. Her fingers ached as she cracked her knuckles. She was such a perfectionist, seeing everything but perfection in her eyes. Plants came alive when they saw and thought
of her. She was the earth and it, her.

Everyone tried their best to enjoy her while they could. While she lasted.

The title's a song and this poem's my reflection of it, hardy har har.

modelb0nes Sep 2013

for what?

you were always so strong,
always holding on to what was left
of us
or what you wanted to be left
from us, our trademarks
our skid marks our triumphs
and our failures

you were always strong,
strong enough to hold us both together
even if I kept making us fall down
and I'm sorry, I really am sorry
for being that piece of paper
which couldn't stick to the glue

and I'm sorry for being the odd man out
and I'm sorry

for doubting that you weren't strong
I'm *sorry

This poem took an odd, apologizing turn somewhere along the way.

modelb0nes Sep 2013

but sonnets **** and love's a drag..

she* looked at me
and my heart
suddenly started to beat
like a metronome

and I wasn't breathing
oxygen anymore but
her* scent; I mean,
whatever that smelt like

and my veins suddenly came alive
as my teeth collapsed in my mouth
and my fingers hid in their pockets

and I don't exactly know why or how
she was doing this or exactly if
she knew she was doing this to me
but

every time she smiled,
(the sun would burst out of the clouds
on a stormy night and the rain
would carve out words
that not even I knew)
I would recognize it
and every single tooth in her mouth
and every crease and every dimple.

Man, I knew her more
than I knew myself
and after all of that,
I had absolutely
nothing
left

except her.

this was from a guy's view by the way.. haha
and it didn't mean to be that long. I just wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

modelb0nes Sep 2013

nervous

(All I see is) white
while I write
(about everything that
is involved with you) which
(is nothing)

I bet you thought, "what?" after reading this. Well I had the same reaction after writing this poem. Anyways. I'm a little bit of an alliteration ******.

modelb0nes Sep 2013

the morning.

the sun slips
through my cold hands

this wasn't suppose to be a love story
and yet I fall in love in your eyes
everyday

Its unfinished and makes no sense.

modelb0nes Sep 2013

this is my mind, everyone.

I don't know.

maybe I don't want anyone in my life.
maybe I just want to be left alone,
go somewhere far away, I don't know
maybe I just want to get away
from here and-

And I don't exactly know
where I want to go.
I just want to go.

I don't know.

The last two lines weren't suppose to rhyme, ermygawd. Anyways I'm listening to three months by the local natives and what happens when you write to a local natives' song? This. A poem that starts with I don't know. Eh. Well.

[And btw, this poem isn't even edited. I just wrote on here (for the first time) oops].

modelb0nes Sep 2013

sigh

I just wish you'd follow me.
whether it'd be to my room,
or to the back of my mind.

towards my thoughts I want you
to be right there

trailing behind me,
alongside me,
with me.

a little poem just to suppress my lonesome feelings that come and go.