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elle Jan 2017
my head feels like it's eating up my heart
draining the lifeblood that kept me going
scraping out memories and happiness, and
leaving the barren remains of a fragile heart
  Oct 2016 elle
Rapunzoll
my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.
© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

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my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)
elle Oct 2016
you don't deserve love
even if it came running towards you
like a child to his mother

you don't deserve love
even if it slapped you in the face
like thunder during a storm

you don't deserve love
even if it appeared before you
pristine and untainted,
its purest form

you don't deserve love
because the people who loved you
only saw themselves hurting,
like a dagger,
YOUR dagger,
to their chests
elle Jun 2016
you are a breath of fresh air,
unlike anyone i've ever met.
elle May 2016
a friend once told me
that a crush was equivalent to a firefly
you hold it in your hands
and peer at it with curiosity
you see its pulsing glow
in the midst of the mass of wings
and you hold it, treasure it,
keep it as your own secret
something you can't tell your friends
because once you breathe a word
about the magical firefly in your palms
the glow you love so much
will diminish, slowly but surely,
until it stops entirely
and you won't cherish it
and you won't treasure it
because you no longer see the importance
i mean, it's no longer the fragile thing
it once was
elle Apr 2016
you realise that even though you have plenty of adoration
you are everything except a human
you are a flesh covered machine, nothing more
say goodbye to old lives with zero burdens
you’re bound to this

the people who love you for you
their screams are endless, they want to give you a break because
they can see the human beneath your calloused skin,
the truth behind the permanent smile on your face
and they want to love the human,
not the machine

but the uppers do not listen
what humans? we only have machines.
this is an industrial factory,
we do not have machines labelled “humans”.
People are overworked these days.
elle Apr 2016
She desires excellence – pristine, pure, perfection.
She desires excellence – clarity, cogency, coherence.
She desires excellence – sharp, sensual, stressful.
She desires excellence – alluring, artful, alone.
She desires excellence – too much, too much, too much.
"Some people grumble that roses have thorns; I am grateful that thorns have roses."
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