Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
abi evans Oct 2017
i haven't always been this way
my mind hasn't always been a mess
before you came along
i was grounded
you
had lifted me up
and given me a taste of heaven
you
made me feel safe
as we'd pass the nights
listening to our heartbeats and soft music coming from your phone
and feeling the rise and fall of your steady breathing
before you
i used to think straight
ha little gay joke oops
abi evans Oct 2017
i hate when i can't sleep
because my mind is racing
around thoughts of you
always being careful not to knock you down, however
though I never can see why
after all, you've put me through
all of the nights spent thinking of what I did wrong
all the glares I receive from you as you pass me by
you
aren't afraid to knock me down
but I could never imagine hurting you
like you did me
this one is more of a ramble and i read your poems and i'm so sorry but i don't miss you anymore
  Oct 2017 abi evans
Cynthia Jean
"In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields."

John McCrae
During World War I, a Canadian Expeditionary gunner and medical officer, John McCrae, fought in the Second Battle of Ypres near Flanders, Belgium.

Describing the battle as a "nightmare," as the enemy made one of the first chlorine gas attacks, John McCrae wrote:

"For seventeen days and seventeen nights none of us have had our clothes off, nor our boots even, except occasionally. In all that time while I was awake, gunfire and rifle fire never ceased for sixty seconds...

And behind it all was the constant background of the sights of the dead, the wounded, the maimed, and a terrible anxiety lest the line should give way."


Finding one of his friends killed, John McCrae helped bury him along with the other dead in a field.

Noticing the field covered with poppy flowers, he composed the famous Memorial Day poem, "In Flanders Fields":
abi evans Oct 2017
it's 7:50 pm
and i'm sitting across from you
in a booth at Perkins
hearing the hardest words i've ever heard you say
come out your mouth
"i can't fix her"
and i look at you and say
"you're not god.
you won't always be able to fix her.
what matters is that you're here for her
now."
this one kindof ***** sorry
abi evans Oct 2017
what I wouldn't give
to touch you again
to feel your embrace
trust me, darling
there's nothing I want more
then to hold you once again
but I'm scared
I'm terrified
that all of the pain
will come back again
in one swift punch
flooding my brain
  Oct 2017 abi evans
Hope White
I didn't even ask
To be your sun
Or your moon.

All I wanted
was to be
Your Sunday afternoons.

How many empty calendars spaces
I wasted,
Waiting for you.
  Oct 2017 abi evans
Zachary William
I remember the way
the alcohol
lubricated our words to each other
and she told me those three
poisonous words:
"I love you"
Except she added
my name to the end
to make sure I knew
how important it was.
"You're the only
person I've said that to,"
She told me that night
as we parted ways

The next day she told
me that it didn't count
and that she was being
dramatic
and I remained in place
amongst those
who function better
as shadows,
withering under her
light,
hoping to hear the
meaningless words
again.
Next page