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Aug 2014 · 507
WHERE I WANT TO BE
modelb0nes Aug 2014
Pizza stains stain her rusty old books;
pages dog-eared and smelling like coffee dates and drags of a stale cigarette, she wishes for late night walks and New York subway rides, the green-blue hue of the underground’s lights swirl by like she was casted in an independent movie film filled with drunken stupors and graffiti-filled alleyways.

He walks back to her creaky-old apartment, her college literature class starting at 8:30am tomorrow yet he persists in walking back to her creaky-old apartment, green flannel catches her apartment's door with the broken lock, his beer-induced thoughts infused with the idea of her in his green flannel, laying on a sofa that’s 70% fluff and 20% couch;
I made this up while restlessly thinking about the movie Remember Me with Robert Pattinson.

I can't finish it. But maybe some things aren't meant to be finished?
Apr 2014 · 345
your eyes said words.
modelb0nes Apr 2014
she bakes cakes
and probably waits for you;
and you,
you, failing every test
saying your life
isn't the best, and me,
not knowing you, so thinking
you feel the most comfortable when there's a bass guitar in your hand and music notes on your mind.
Like me,
music is the only thing
that you can run to, arms
open wide.
So I guess I don't know you
but I guess in a way
I sort of understand you
because you're just like me.
or maybe your eyes
just said it all and I can't translate it clearly because your mouth,
and your words had little to do with the explanation.
sorry my sentences didn't come out
at all too.
I guess we are alike
in many aspects.
Apr 2014 · 313
room & you (pt. 1)
modelb0nes Apr 2014
you left




without a word.
but you had
no words
to say before.


I had no words, at the time
but as your absence increased
more words
came to mind.

I was without you
and you were within me

somehow.

I talked, and talked and talked
and the words increased, so did
your lack to be here/

and I don't know what exactly to say,
I guess you took those words with you.

so come back,
so I can lose all the words again. so
I can gain, what I did when you weren't here and let's start all over

to the nowhere we were before.
note: listening to 'no room for doubt' by Lianne La Havas makes this poem 10x better.
Apr 2014 · 409
room & you (pt. 2)
modelb0nes Apr 2014
you stretched my skin
the light reflected off the wall
the air was light
you took flight, the sun
was my companion that evening.
though if it was up to me,
I'd name you the sunset
and kiss you senseless
and we'd burn the stars
and make them pointless,
my eyes searching and scanning
every point
on your abdomin.
your laugh was cute and
I smiled, thinking that if I wasn't here
I'd wish to be here, right now,
in this very moment,
with you.
note: listening to 'no room for doubt' by Lianne La Havas makes this poem 10x better.
modelb0nes Apr 2014
my fingers fingled and you
coming up breathless and me,
hopeless—ly in love with you—r
eyes and how they smiled at me.
I wanted love; yours mostly.
Mar 2014 · 476
we might die tomorrow
modelb0nes Mar 2014
I missed the sun fall tonight and
the sunset was you in a day: stubborn
and obnoxious and everything I wished to be.

I wished that I could hold you
in my hands, like a hot cup of coffee.

you drink cheap wine
from expensive stores every evening
in my dreams.

like red dust and I,
easily picked up and thrown away,
I missed you, a lot, I mean,
I missed a lot of things.
the sunset, the moon,
the curve that resembled your smile,
though I missed you the most.

I wanted you
to miss me and I wanted you,
just because.
Mar 2014 · 446
she called it magic
modelb0nes Mar 2014
after the alcohol
rots our insides and
the morning sunrise
stings our eyes and
the fact that we didn't die
today, after all of that, there's still
smiles to see and
similies to say and
hope that the weather'll change and
the gusty wind won't blow our thoughts away.

well anyway.
there are lyrics mixed in this poem.
modelb0nes Mar 2014
I notice that blue sweater before I even notice you.
your eyes are the metaphor to an April sunrise,
observant and mysterious.

as the thoughts of self-consciousness and "what do you see when you see me" often replay in my head over and over, poisoning my thoughts, unabling me to use my mind,

you:
lose my train of thought,
stare at me a lot,
and give me signals
I can't grasp.

you make me
feel everything and nothing
at the same time and I don't know why
but I love when you notice and hate
when you stare and and  and

it's hard to put you into words
because out of all the words
I find in the dictionary
I can't find any to properly put you
in a sentence.
I can't describe you
and I don't know why

and it annoys me;
you annoy me
but you know,

annoyance doesn't allow people
the satisfaction of forgetting and

maybe that's why you're always in my mind.
modelb0nes Mar 2014
the moon looked lonely tonight and I felt alone.
I wondered if the moon needed company from time to time just like we humans did, if the moon shined bright against the contrast of the never ending Black Sea of sky just because it was tired of not being noticed;
if it changed it's shape from time to time
because it wanted some attention.
Mar 2014 · 350
your eyes said it all
modelb0nes Mar 2014
if I spoke in tongues,
would you understand me better?

if I contrasted with you,
like the sunset and the sunrise,
would you finally noticed me?

if you inhaled the moon
and your body exhaled smoke,
from my lungs,
would you be able to breathe again?
modelb0nes Mar 2014
we sit on the windowsill,
your cold fingertips grasp my thigh.
drinking cranberry juice, pretending it's red wine and that we're somewhere else right now.
somewhere where only we exist, somewhere pleasant and fulfilling. somewhere where
plants grow and leaves turn into dust
when the slightest breeze hits their tips,
where the chlorophyll soothes the atmosphere with oxygen and green.
and in that moment, at that exact moment, I wondered.
I wondered where you were,
how you were doing,
    if you were with me.
Mar 2014 · 252
we are what we have
modelb0nes Mar 2014
you wanted everything
except me and I wanted nothing
but you
(I wanted to think like you
and explore the place and the space
inside your mind)
and you wanted more, everything
and everything that came with
having everything
and I was confused because
I was your everything; or at least
I thought I was.
Mar 2014 · 295
infectious
modelb0nes Mar 2014
you're not contagious
love is made up of unpleasant things
and greedy people who need
      to have things in     life in order
      to feel fulfilled

I want to think
                       you need to speak

you were too heavy to lift
and I should of dreamed more
(and less about you)

I need to speak
                        you need to stop thinking—

your face glowed
                         and I wanted you
to look at
                 me
                      that way
again.
Dec 2013 · 676
dark
modelb0nes Dec 2013
it was a nice evening,
though.
one where wine would
of been drank under
the full moon
above.
one where "I love you"s
would of been said or
kisses after "goodnight"
has been whispered.
one where ticking
clocks and
pounding
heads (due to the previous
partying)
would be the only
side effect to a
nice
evening.
Dec 2013 · 572
I fell in love
modelb0nes Dec 2013
I fell in love... with the way
you fall asleep. slowly, then all at once. god, I sometimes wish that I saw the pictures that reside underneath your eyelids and the images, that make a map on the inside of your brain. but no, here I am, feet as cold as the heart of a murderer's, listening to coffee steam and the sound of your soft whispers.

I fell in love... with the way
you fell in love with the sky.
the tenderness of the clouds
and the fluffiness of the atmosphere, you've always adored the sky; especially after it rained. red-sky,
I think you called it. though I've never had the pleasure to witness one (and with you), I hope it looked like you. I hope it looked
like your eyes in the evening time.
that'd be my redsky. I see redskies. redskies in your eyes, yes, well
if that counts.

I fell in love... with the way
your heart fell into beats. each one
sounding like a metronome that stopped to the sound of your voice and had no specific rate. oh, it'd flutter then fall, then rise, and fall again; kind of like how I feel about you. kind of like how I fell for you. kind of how my love is now for you.
and I really wished I figured out which part I'm at now, the flutter or the fly part..
my continuation to john green's quote "I fell in love with the way you fall asleep".
Dec 2013 · 362
fur
modelb0nes Dec 2013
fur
you always looked like you were smiling
in your sleep. maybe because you were.
so here, I'll start all over again.
you always smiled in your sleep.
and I fell in love with it.
cute lil' sonnet?
Dec 2013 · 487
because everyone has veins
modelb0nes Dec 2013
your eyelashes showed interest,
your lips showed courage, with a little bit of lust outlining the curve. they've always been distrustful. but nothing was more dishonest than the snow that frosted and layed on the trees, each branch looking like a frozen chocolate Popsicle.

(the branches were dismembered fingers that always reached for something. love, hope, I don't know.
they cracked and crumbled, to their death, to the ground, whatever in reach falling with them.)

I loved talking to you. you didn't think like me, which was good. you gave a reason to your point of view, always (which was quite annoying in some ways and some adorably lovely in others.) having to say your opinion.
unfinished. not knowing how to finish it because it makes no sense.
Dec 2013 · 223
poetry in the dark
modelb0nes Dec 2013
I dreamt of you
     in poetry last
night. I wonder(ed)
                              what
you were doing; where
you were.             how
you were doing;  if I
        was going to see
you anywhere.
I
look at apartment
        buildings
that look at my balcony
           and wonder if
                                   your
                                     body
resides there: and all I
can think of          (right
now) is how
much my veins tingled when
I wrote "your
                   body".
wrote this in the dark.
Dec 2013 · 310
calgary
modelb0nes Dec 2013
your lips
became
the inside of
       a music note,

your mind
mapping out my
life.

good
         night.
and dream
of me;

or don't.
Dec 2013 · 252
Wall paintings
modelb0nes Dec 2013
you know, I've always wanted to jump off a plane,
and land on the inside of a book, you know,
I've always wanted to be the pages
that everyone always loved reading or the words
that have fallen out of a lover's mouth accidentally
Dec 2013 · 511
a series of short.
modelb0nes Dec 2013
I learnt to live off of art and music;
food and water aren't mandatory.
(I'm trying to let my fingers talk).
/
breathe in the sky
stare at plants, decorate
bite your cheek, but not too hard this time. feel your heart, let your veins talk and pump the blood throughout your body to the rhythm of the song.
grow, walk, alone
(it's nice to have these moments).

feel the tense skin in between your eyebrows, mad because he doesn't talk to you: though confused because you don't notice him
/
Dec 2013 · 394
numb, dumb
modelb0nes Dec 2013
with eyelashes like tree leaves
oh she stuck to me; like the glue
that sleeps on my fingers she stuck,
to me. with eyes like the sun and kisses
like stunning bees, I wouldn't mind
dying to her lips. her eyes made me numb
and her voice made me dumb and
her mind made me fall in love with her all over again.
/
I kissed his fingers softly
(I loved the smell of citrus.)
I whispered in her ears and loved her endlessly (occasionally.)
/
Dec 2013 · 383
marcello
modelb0nes Dec 2013
He has wide eyes and dark hair.
He walks like he carries the world around
with him. With earphones constantly in his ears
and music continuously playing in his brain,  
I watch and wonder what he listens to.

The dark circles around his eyes tell me that he's
into indie rock; though that may also just imply
that he lacks sleep. His deep and nonchalant gaze
tells me that he's gone; that he lives far far away,
in his mind.
modelb0nes Dec 2013
the train's presence blows her hair
as the sleeping dust on the tracks
run to meet her face.
-
she wants time to slow
and the aftenoon to go by fast;
she indecisively decides
to take the second train.
-
She wonders how they're doing.
are they having fun in the cold; she
wonders if they're tasting the bitter
wind against their harsh tongues;
or if they feel the amount of angst
and anger she does, currently.
-
She tastes the quiet breeze
against her sweet tongue, back aching
in thought, her mind and eyes blurring
out what's happening right now:
on the train she's on.
Dec 2013 · 448
poem
modelb0nes Dec 2013
I'm writing with butter stained lips
and popcorn residued fingertips.
I'm looking at the ceiling, watching
frosted rain fall from the clouds
and onto my window (the curtains
looked rather nice).
Nov 2013 · 471
pleading, and death
modelb0nes Nov 2013
everything dies
in the end. even you.

and oh how I wished we didn't have to die.
at least not today. at least not you. I mean you,
oh you tasted like.. like vanilla and I never really enjoyed chocolate.

I preferred the better things
and you gave none of them to me. so why
didn't I want you to die? Maybe it was how the sun would cross your bedroom and how your flat brown eyes would light up the whole room, something my aura always used to do.

Maybe it was when I finally realized how boring death would be without you (and I've wanted to die for a very long time). Not looking to your eyes and having my life viewed right back at me would be kind of sad.

Maybe I didn't want you to die because you were the only one who gave my life meaning.
Nov 2013 · 1.7k
cook me dinner, cook me sin
modelb0nes Nov 2013
our toes were cold, my left hand warm.
It smelt like mushrooms and Alfredo.
He kissed me in paradise and in Paris, though
there wasn't much of a difference (your lips still had the smooth feel of glass, sharp edges included).

I smiled at the nonchalant music, paying
absolutely no attention to the things they said.
modelb0nes Oct 2013
we have a weird relationship.

it's like we both want to talk to each other,
yet we have nothing to say

or maybe we do
but we don't want to say it

or maybe we actually do want to say it,
but we don't know how to phrase it.

though we do have the words..
but are they the right ones?


maybe we don't talk to each other
because of the things that run through our minds.
modelb0nes Oct 2013
he
whispered to me to love him
through the tough times.
and he made me aware
and let me know how tough
his tough times could be.

but I couldn't understand why
he had no faith in me. Of course
I'd be with him within and without.
through everything; did he really think
I would bail on him once he showed sides
of himself that I was unaware of?

because little did he know,
I knew him better than he knew himself.
I knew how he ordered two creams
and one milk in his coffee though
it made his coffee too black. I knew
when he said "bye" he wanted me to kiss
the sadness from his lips.
I knew how he wanted me to *love
more
than the actual definition of love
could sustain.

I knew.
this poem-ish thing took an interesting turn.
Oct 2013 · 1.6k
reminisce
modelb0nes Oct 2013
I'm the type of person to scratch out something,
rather than erasing or whiting it out permanently.
I don't know, maybe because I like to look back
on the thoughts and the things that I've done.
I don't like forgetting about things.
I prefer remembering that things were there
and that I've done them.
Maybe.
Oct 2013 · 775
again
modelb0nes Oct 2013
I want to be the words that flow from your mouth

and the unused syllables that run under the skin of those
who say much about me
but little to me;

I want to be the vibrations that flow through the blood
of a warrior who lost the one that they loved or the prince
who found his Cinderella through a starry eyed beggar;

you see,

I want to be every word that wasn't even thought about
and every sentence that was paraphrased or reworded time and time again.

I want to be things that aren't things until they come alive.
because what about those thoughts? huh?
where do the thoughts which were never unsought go?
hihi.
Oct 2013 · 301
autumn, rain, and you
modelb0nes Oct 2013
it rained in October
         and I loved it.

as I looked out onto the field
        I reminisced about all of the seasons
and how none of them meant more to me
    than autumn, rain, and you.
Oct 2013 · 736
loudly
modelb0nes Oct 2013
he had a cigarette in his mouth
that lingered at the tip of his lips;
the bottom one.
his eyes screamed of despair

yet his mouth said nothing;
bitter and harsh words leaked
out and without meaning

they meant something;
I'm currently racking through your brain,
while burning in your veins delicately.
I'll always be there,

waiting while;
your voice trembles like wings
and your bones whisper melodies, loudly
*loudly
a mix of unfinished poems I thought I'd put together.
Oct 2013 · 386
bitten and uneven
modelb0nes Oct 2013
the cold bit at her fingertips,
gently asked for her attention.

she was the winter and he
was the breeze

she was the snow;
he was the frostbite.

she was everything he wasn't
and he wasn't even close to anything
that she was; or wanted
I wrote this poem a while ago and posted it now bc idk. I feel sappy and sad and I don't know. whatever enjoy. or not.
Sep 2013 · 246
and
modelb0nes Sep 2013
and
for the first time love,
fell for us.
my two-versed poem bye
Sep 2013 · 712
sun airway - activity 2.
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.
Sep 2013 · 561
for what?
modelb0nes Sep 2013
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
shelooked 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.
Sep 2013 · 1.8k
nervous
modelb0nes Sep 2013
(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 ******.
Sep 2013 · 310
the morning.
modelb0nes Sep 2013
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.
Sep 2013 · 303
this is my mind, everyone.
modelb0nes Sep 2013
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].
Sep 2013 · 351
sigh
modelb0nes Sep 2013
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.
Aug 2013 · 281
atmosp(her)e.
modelb0nes Aug 2013
Even the oxygen
thrived off of breathing
her
*in
don't you wish you were someone
that even the oxygen loved
and wanted to be?
I do.
Aug 2013 · 366
You&I.
modelb0nes Aug 2013
you were a poet;
injecting my poetry in your veins

breathing in words,
with my voice
floating throughout your brain,

I guess my vocal chords did nothing
and had no use to my body
except to send sheets of music
straight to your heart.

And yet,
you and I didn't mesh well
because we couldn't of been more different.
You and I were so different, we were the same.
lol I'm on a role tonight. Without the slight bit of coffee in my system. Well, I guess a bit. CAFFEINE IS GOOD OKAY.
modelb0nes Aug 2013
I* don't love you,
and this is not a poem,

though if I must say,
I wish I was the moon

so you could look up at me
everyday (when I'm still in the sky,
just not visibly there)
and every night

and I wish I was the cup of coffee,
you held up to your lips every evening,
feeling each chiseled curve,
and every layer of the skin
that resided there.

I don't know,
I guess I just wished that I was the things
that touched your skin each day
and/or the things that were in your
every day routine
This poem sounded better in my head and was fine when I first wrote it down. Then I nagged and picked at it, changing words and changing punctuations, and now I don't like it. It doesn't even really make sense to me. I don't know. Or maybe I just over think and over analyze too much. A little too much. Eh.
Aug 2013 · 667
Write.
modelb0nes Aug 2013
Write
until your thoughts become words
and those words become spelling mistakes
and those spellig. Mistakes make sense
to everyone ecvept you
and your worfs become jumbled
and make no sense
and are illeterate
and until they make no sense
to anyone
except *you
yes, I put spelling mistakes in there on purpose. I'm not illiterate I promise.
Aug 2013 · 248
Untitled
modelb0nes Aug 2013
I'm longing to fill
th(e)mptiness
inside me
with things
that make me
think of you
what?
modelb0nes Aug 2013
you lived
off cigarette smoke
instead of oxygen

I mean, you were toxic
and I absolutely loved it

and sometimes,
I wish I was an addiction;
your addiction

I mean I wish I lived
with a body without blood
idk. Its 12am and I'm not that tired.
modelb0nes Aug 2013
I first saw you in a coffee shop:

you were a few feet away from me. your feet tapped absentmindedly underneath your crooked chair while black and blue pen ink residue resided on your fingers. Your eyes were reading a newspaper yet your mind was paying no attention to the words. I was in such deep thought studying you that my heart skipped a beat when I saw your eyes glance up at mine. You started studying me instead of the crinkled worn out paper in your hands. A smiled played across your face as the radiant warmth of it touched my eyes—
I made this up and it's not a poem hihi
Aug 2013 · 448
March.
modelb0nes Aug 2013
and I don't necessarily know why
but I think I love your birthday
more than my birthday and that maybe
and just maybe
I think if you were born
and I wasn't
I wouldn't care

and I think that your poetry
sticks and stays in my mind
more than lectures and homework
answers and I think that maybe
and just maybe
if I saw you randomly walking
down my street
I'd go up to you
and say one of my favorite poems by you
and watch your face as the reaction of
"what the–" crossed your mind
and played with your features;

and I think that maybe
if I died
by your side
with poetry in my veins
and your oxygen in my lungs
I would've probably wished
that I died sooner
lol this is about one of my twitter followers. Yikes
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