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  Sep 2014 rivy
Baylee
Here's to the teenagers that congregate in sketchy places,
Tell their parents they are "at a friend's",
Get wasted on cheap liquor that they probably got from a homeless man,
And get high on every drug in their disposal.
Here's to the rebels that need to break free from rules,
That need an escape from reality,
Or that just want to forget some things,
Maybe not even forever, but for right now.
Here's to the generation of thots, sloots, and ******,
Those who think they're looking for a good time,
Or the ones who have yet to experience this,
Lying so much - you live two lives.
Here's to the youth of now,
Whether you're 16 or 20,
You probably are in this rebellious phase,
Or you will be soon.
Here's to you.
rivy Sep 2014
being warmed by empty coffee mugs at 3 in the morning
trying to decide whether to give up or go to sleep
the blood rushes throught my veins
as I silently pray for you to choose the second option

at 4 in the morning I'm wandering around the backyard
holding a coffee cup filled with red wine.
God only knows how much I curse the day I met you
I curse you hazel eyes and the way you danced barefeet in the moonlight.
I curse the lovers that went wrong and I hope they forever regret
not holding you closer while they owned your soul
and I'll take that curse as a bridge to curse myself for being one of them.

I could never ask for a second chance to look at you
but you deserve love in rawest kind of way
I could never give you anything compared to that
so may the scars your arms never serve as a keep your distance or
a danger sign
and may you find someone whose loving kisses will heal you better than time.

I don't want you to see this as an open letter or an apology
I still haven't found a way to apologize about things I couldn't control
without letting a poisonous lie burn my lips.

you were never one to read
I hope you just scan your eyes over this
but if you take your time to read  more than three words
I hope you understand that I never meant to hurt you
I hope you realise that I never asked for your love
because I would prefer to hear you whispering how much you hated me instead of reading pretty little words without meaning.

I don't wish you well
but I hope you don't think about me as much as I think about you
I would hate to have my name carved on every inch of your skin

I hope you don't remember my voice
playing old scratched records might make your ears bleed.

during some periods of the day you seem to still be here
and in those moments part of me is trying hard not to fall in love with the memory of a person I should forget


oh dear
may you never find yourself in the eyes of a stranger
may those cold September nights never carve another mark your thighs
may God allow you to urderstand that he made you whole.
may you never let ***** hands touch your heart or soul
may you find both roses and thorns
and may you learn that getting hurt is an important part of life.
may you laugh at the good times and forget about the nights you cried yourself to sleep

may you break
may you fall
may our paths cross
over and over again.
  Sep 2014 rivy
WickedHope
You picked up a guitar one day,
Fooling around.
I never knew you could play.
The song you played was my favorite song,
Though you had no way of knowing.
You were so beautiful,
Just being yourself
For once.

That was
The first and the last time
You ever played
For me.

That was the moment
I realized
I was
In love
With you.
I still am.
  Jun 2014 rivy
berry
recovery is not pretty.
it is not painless or simple or instant.
it is a road littered with backsliding and obstacles and doubt.
a path marred with reopened scars and sleepless nights and feigned smiles.

recovery is rubberbands and ice cubes and pacing and cigarettes.
it is phone calls at 3am when you can barely breathe and all the walls are closing in.
it is screaming at the ones you love because they love you too much to let you break your skin.

it is long sleeves and overly-cautious internet browsing and lots of movies.
it is eating way too much ice cream and taking walks in the middle of the night.
it is hard. recovery is hard. it is messy. it is painful and chaotic. but it is not impossible.
  Jun 2014 rivy
berry
you were graceless and broken
- all in secret
ravenous for affection
a blue-eyed devil
with good intentions
and better hands

- b.
  Jun 2014 rivy
Samantha Rose Bowman
I like to poison myself. It gives me health. Sheds strength onto my day. Makes the long boring times flutter away. I'll flutter away, into thin space. In my head, I begin again, waking for the evening. Hungry, foolish, eventful. Full of ***** and surprise. Dizzy, dainty, laughing, tourists go by, blinking their eyes into the distance. Do you ever zone so deep into your thoughts; fear you might get lost? Losing yourself into the day break. All costs for namesake. If I shall die, tell everyone goodbye for me. I've never truly hated anyone. I've been lost, I lose my socks, dreamed of making love on a boat-dock. We'll evolve into something greater, see to it that it goes as planned. Build yourself, create your world, environment is a whirlwind of emotion, challenge, and occasionally suicidal games of the awkward, outcast, *******. Fatherless is quite a strange sort of happiness, no one there to guide me, sister's fail almost entirely. Didn't help much, putting forth the wrong effort into focusing on all the wrong things, tragedies, thrills, scares, chills. Seems unreal. Looking back, wishing I'd been more tactful, nonetheless I love who I am, without those dreadful thoughts, situations, spot of no control and memorizing rebellious on my part, wasn't sure where to start. I have a heavy, dense, intricate heart. Complications make yourself. Take them, make them, break them, start from scratch, scratch your eye patch. Successful endeavors beat you, overcome them. You win again with that awful sly grin.
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