Sometimes I imagine us holding hands, Walking along the harbor: You, telling stories of all these lost years like a pelican begging for food Making music out of my invisible tears
But maybe instead of holding your hand I should hold on to the future And stop chasing your footprints in the sand Only to be led nowhere. I will no longer swim in these tears. I have felt the ache of the salt burn on my skin for far too long. It’s not worth docking on this pier If you don’t treasure me like the shells along your shore.
So I set sail. I will find a new island to call my own & Sculpt the land like shaping clay on a pottery wheel.
I will treasure all of my shells and secrets The way you did not treasure me. And for once, I will command the sea.
my demon is anger. it rises and erupts in me; i’m no longer a quiet, cool ocean, but a fiery, angry volcano. my demon escapes when i am weakest. it wants me to be strong, to dominate. to destroy. to be the best. my demon is my curse. it’s a part of me. it makes me, me, but i think it’s ****. it’s hideous. i want to put an end to the anger, but with two small hands i can’t possibly stop a volcano.
i really wanted to see what people though of this. :/ it truly came from the bottom of my heart and i honestly don't know if it is quality poetry.
the ray of sunlight peaks through the over sized clouds, and that’s when i want to wave hello to the shining light that is calling my name. i shield my oval eyes, watch the darkness that surrounds the sunlight [ the small dust particles all around light up too, as luminous as the sun itself ] i want to run towards this crepuscular ray - this bright, shining light - that pleads for me. i’ll skip on clouds, dance till i reach my destination i’ll run up to the sky, bask in the single ray of light that is slowly fading. i’ll lie underneath its radiance, until it finally d i s a p p e a r s .
dried up skulls with motionless eyes pulled out of their sockets lie about on forgotten land as more are placed in the jars, already filled with other dusty, dirt covered eyeballs. the strangely clean glass containers in which the eyes are placed stand on wood shelves, calling, b e g g i n g, to be set free from the trap of the elderly, blind man's clutches.
sugar boy, your heart is caked like a treat, soft as a bendy gummy; but your eyes are what get at me, for they shine like those glow-in-the-dark rubber bands that little kids played with.
sugar boy, you're as sweet as those dum-dum lollipops. your smile is as gentle as a little, innocent kid who is listening for the ice cream truck. your tears, however, look so salty and burn your face with blackness.
sugar boy, i'll wipe away those tears. i'll make them fade by a soft kiss on the lips. i'll caress your ****** colored cheek with my dry hands, i'll make us both sweet lovers, both so imperfect.
i see stars in her eyes. no — not just stars; solar systems in which just the two of us wander through, individual souls lost in a pool of darkness. that darkness devours every last bit of hope, and that is why i know we cannot be together.