Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
it is a new day, a new hour, a new second, and i have new skin.

i'm hoping it's impenetrable, but as i fall down and scratch my knee, i realize it isn't.

i'm hoping it's smoother, but as i run my fingers over the rough scab from yesterday's tumble, i realize it isn't.

the sun is shining down on my skin, and i see that it's causing me to glow.

this has happened before, but it's different now, because it's stretching deeper than my skin.
i can feel it within.

/

the moonlight casts a shadow on my skin.
it's unsettling.
it makes me feel blue.
but i am tired of feeling blue,
so i go inside,
so that maybe i will feel green
or yellow
or red.

anything but blue,
because i always end up drowning in it,
yet here i am,
talking about it like it will not
swallow me when i wake up tomorrow morning.
or afternoon.
or maybe i won't wake up at all,
so that way i am no longer held captive
by this blue ruin.
i haven't written in a couple months. these are two different poems with one very thin relation. my mind is blank. this is ******. and blue ruin is a movie reference. i apologize for everything.
 Sep 2016 remington carter
milo
take me east, in your mothers car. well wake up early and brush our hair, make ourselves look pretty and then  go to texas to see 3 person caskets and 19th century hearse carriges and glass coffins, well get jobs and pay for it all, the tickets, the hostel. itll be barely summer and well be dripping down the sewer drains, bones and all.

take my body south, to the desert. put my body in my parents living room, brush my bodys hair, make me look pretty (my white dress). my parents will pay for it all, the cemetary, the flowers. wrap my body in a shroud and toss me into the dry dirt, it will barely be summer and ill be back in the ground, bones and all.
 Sep 2016 remington carter
mira
a love turns old and the season is autumn
under silver buttons, laughing, lying to
me.
there is no one left to reach
take pictures when i turn into a deer
take a picture of
me
in my underwear and
flowers growing
everywhere
then, it began to rain.
 Sep 2016 remington carter
mira
we can go wherever we want
we can even go to
montana
because we can't live here anymore
all the boys are talking to her,
they're drowning in blue and talking to her
it is hard to understand
in a similar way it is hard to understand
flowers growing,
maybe it is your birthday.
all the boys are talking,
their eyes are closed and they're talking to her
it is hard to hear when i sleep
eat me alive

in the darkest
coldest
part of the night

the moon
will not
haunt you

nor follow
your footsteps
in the midst
of our
love's demise

i can smell
your flesh
from afar

eat me alive

i'd rather
be dead
than being
alone
Never measure love with virginity,
true love
is accepting flaws.
Next page