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 Feb 2018 at
Jackson Rae Wilder
your eyes are like the night sky
pitch black and endless
a pool of mystery so deep

the first time i stared at you
it left me wondering
how a world so vast and mysterious
can fit into a face so small
The song Stars by Callalily played on my mind when I first stared at you after a long time of not minding how handsome you were.
 Feb 2018 at
Fritzi Melendez
One soul.
One heart.
One mind.
Two eyes.

Two window panels to see it all.
Your relationship with the sun had always been so strong.
It wasn't a surprise that the yellow ball of fire shone its light through you.
The sunlight loves to stare into your eyes.
A shifting kaleidoscope of green-blue hues.
The angelic light surrounding your free-willed, sun-kissed hair.
Your fair, fragile skin, warmed by the sun that invites you for a hug.
The only source of life it wanted to give itself was to you.
It wasn't a mistake that the sun chose you as its shell to live in.

One love.
One warmth.
One light.
Two eyes.

Two emerald colored eyes to look directly at the people you love.
A toothy grin to compliment the joy in your eyes as well.
You radiate through the breath that you exhale.
You are the sun, the person who everyone wanted to revolve themselves around.
And you always welcome them with your warmth and light.
Your presence is the break of dawn that people enjoy waking up to.
And you were just as happy to tell everyone "good morning."
Your love for everyone is endless, unconditional, unfathomable.
I wanted to bathe in your sun rays and drown in this home feeling warmth.

One hand.
One confession.
One hug.
Two eyes.

Deep down, I yearned to be your moon.
I was merely Pluto, the farthest away from you.
No, you welcomed everyone in, including me.
I am useless, I am small, I am not what I say I am.
And yet, you still let me in.
The gravitational pull encouraged me to move.
I held your hand and felt as if my heart had been dipped in your sky.
I saw your irises turn to every spectrum of color.

One day.
One breakdown.
One hand.
Two eyes.

My light dimmed as I was pummeled in a meteor shower.
Swimming into a black hole I intentionally wanted to reside in.
But you are the sun, you needed everyone perfectly aligned.
You bathed me in your sunlight as you wrapped your arms around my dying body.
Your sunlight, making my tears evaporate.
You didn't let go until I glistened with stars.
Your warm green eyes, staring right into my heart.
"I'm always here for you, Fritzi, you know that right?"
And before I could respond, I was thrown into a rocket ship for a sudden change in my planet's location.

One me.
One year.
One change.
Two lies.

The first was that we'd still communicate through the satellites.
After awhile we began to orbit through a different planet system.
Houston, there wasn't a problem with the communication, we just got busy.
We had to tend our gardens of stars and **** out the oncoming asteroids.
The second was that we said we were there for each other.
But with the lack of communication, the atmosphere became silent.
Vast, dark, empty, cold, but I still hoped for the static sounds on the walkie talkies.
I never saw the sun again after the take off, I never saw those two gleaming green gems again.
It grew cold and all was black, never realizing I'll soon regret the silence so deeply.  

One decision.
One mistake.
One crash.
Two dead.

You were the first one to go.
...
Hearing the static crackle sent my heart racing after years of a dead signal.
I listened and was suddenly turned deaf from the radio waves that formed the bad news.
I saw the planets collide right in front of my now dull eyes.
A fiery, colorful explosion, and stars dripping out of space one by one.
And then it all sank, this wasn't real, this isn't real, it can't be real.
In my shock and confusion, I was ****** into a vortex of complete darkness.
And although there is no sun to tell me when to wake up now,
I still wake up just in time for the break of Iris' dawn,
And I hear her; I hear Iris whisper to me "good morning."
An ode to my dearest friend, Iris Dawn.
 Feb 2018 at
Kurt Philip Behm
My conviction
  —my pen
My blood
  is my ink
My spirit
  my foundation
My faith
  is my link
My love
  is the cradle
Where tomorrow
  is born
My belief
  my transcendence
In this present
—adorned

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
 Feb 2018 at
haley
i. the curly, green-haired
leo with the cry-baby tattoo
on her left calf; fish net stockings and
loud guitar playing and
menthol cigarettes. driving through
the park at 9 pm, ***** shots,
the white house with the a-frame roof,
hugs that made your heart feel as warm
as she did

crying as i left my room again to be
intertwined with a girl who did not love me, but i wanted to;
months pass, lonely car rides with
one-sided conversations and
seven years gone,
quiet disconnection
that made you feel as cold
as i did

ii. brown eyes, brown skin,
round glasses and chicago streetlights.
holding each other close on the subway
lakehouse parties in the beginning of spring and
pisces season and tarot readings and
soft kisses on the train.
holding hands at the aquarium,
sweet poetry and calm and
a sense of oneness that made you feel
important

hurt for the third time
a panic, a loss
i held their heart in my hands and
let it fall
harsh
unimportant
i still carry the guilt on my fingertips

iii. short hair. freckled cheeks, i
fell in love with the way the skin
crinkled around her eyes when she smiled.
an apartment, a home built
around our lips touching
wrapped in blankets on the couch,
dense smoke and her hand on my leg while she
drove. chinese food and
waking up against her chest and
laughing so hard
my ribs hurt

crashing. her anger withering away my
heartstrings; pain and
crying alone in the bathtub
moving away
drunk tears on the interstate
punching my thighs
in place of the way her
words made
me hurt
feeling extra lonely these days. they come and go.
 Feb 2018 at
Miracle Beyond Me
I am begging for mercy.
There is no voice
for this body lost.
I abandoned beautiful things
before they could abandon me.
Now, full of poison,
I look upon our youngest relics,
and how their naïve sway
dictates the commerce of the streets,
and I weep, unsure if they or I am lost.

I am begging for mercy.
By your grace, I rediscover
the nails hammered
into my jaw and forehead.
Perhaps you never extracted them
despite my years of folly.
I know you are near.
Like a good lover, you counsel
more sincere than any Wise Man.

         Do not be intimidated by beauty.
         There are no kingdoms,
         no pleasures-  only time.
         "Reality is the coincidence
         of *** and death."
         Embrace our anonymous love
         and release the healing passions
         more ****** than a begging bowl.
The "reality is the coincidence of *** death," line is not mine. I think it's from one of the later Hindu texts, but can't recall which. Just want to get some sort of citation out there.
 Dec 2017 at
Jay
Damaged people love you like a crime scene
Before any crime had been committed
They kept their running shoes right next to their souls every night
One eye opened in case something changed whilst they were asleep

Damaged people love in the most broken way
Damaged people love in the most gentle way
Damaged people do not love
Damaged people love too much

Their backs are always too tense, too tight
Made this way from carrying too many broken things
Because we all know broken things are the heaviest
Just look the weight of a broken heart

Damaged people will love that too
Damaged people love broken things
Because they remind them of themselves

Damaged people take broken things
And love them to the end
Trying to find that one broken thing
That will fit their cracks.

Damaged people love so well

They love like this because they have already seen Hell
And they know that every evil demon
Was once an angel before they fell.
 Oct 2017 at
Corey Parsons
My first name
Ripped, screamed, slammed
Out of calm air
just before impact

Sounds like trays of silverware
being dropped on linoleum,
The crash in the restaurant kitchen
That stops the dining room

Smoke and steam erupt
From the maimed car hood,
Crescent bent steering wheel
Speedometer needle frozen at fifty-one

Squirming out of windows
Because the doors
are crushed closed

We buried our illegal treasures
Somewhere near a plowed field
Underneath the scraped bridge

No need to panic
Only until the grapey blood  
Runs over my brow

The windshield was molded
With the impression
Of a bowling ball

We saw a slip of hairy scalp,
a wet potato chip crisping
in the sun

The kids at school drew
peace signs and *** leaves
On my mummy-wrap bandage

Ten years later
I look in the mirror
At a fasten seat belt sign
Of a scar
By Corey Parsons
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