Trending hash-tags:
#love #hope #you #heart
#sad #death #depression #pain
#life #thoughts
Love, turmoil, thoughts.
Anyone else seeing a trend?
Hello Poetry is.
But I'm still waiting.
Waiting for #beautiful
#funny
#awareness
#brave
#diversity.
When did poetry mean
#pain
#heartbreak
#nohopewhatsoever?
Let's break the monotony.
#TwistTheTale

One day I realized the fact
That I fear what I don't understand.
Then I chose to understand my fear
And so I am not afraid of it.

She wanted what she didn't have
So she hid what she had
And found out how quickly she wanted it.
And so she appreciated what she had.

He fell in love with a stranger
So he got up and dressed his wounds
Before he could obtain them.
And so he was cured before he was sick.

They had nothing else to do
So they threw nothing away
And found something worth doing.
So they were never bored.

The people were content.
Does that make sense?

It drips along my hairline
Dragging my eyelashes down.
The urge to open my eyes wanes
As the moonlight brightens.
I should stay up, stay vivid
As the constellations dance
Waltzing along the horizon,
As the last hint of rosy pink fades.
Listen to the birds sleep, their
Faint fluttering of feathers.
Let the sound of slumber calm me,
But not fool me into sleep.
The fatigue is so welcoming,
I shouldn't give in to its promise
Of sweet dreams like I'm still awake.
Just wait, watch them be lovelier than I thought
Watch me wake up and feel the instant disappointment
As the harsh sunlight permeates my eyelids,
Snapping at me to get up, carpe diem.
It's so much easier to stay standing
Never feel the empty oath sleep brings
And never know what better things there are
Without the dreams of impossible things

She looked at me with colorless eyes
And café-au-lait face.
Beads and thread spun into her hair,
Descending to her waist.
The scent of rosemary and answers drifted off her skin.

She fed me no lies, assessing the situation
With critical efficiency.
"I think I have something for that."
I waited in a red velvet, upholstered chair,
Twiddling my thumbs as she shuffled through the shelves
Lining the walls, crammed with books and trinkets and vials.

She selected one, careful not to drop it on the knitted rug
And handed it to me with a promise.
"Drink this. It will do what needs to be done."
I gave her thanks and payment,
And stepped out of her residence, happy.
As I returned home, the grape-juice colored potion
Was opened and sipped out of a wineglass.

And nothing changed.

I peered around the room.
Inhaled.
It still reminded me of him.
The walls were still his favorite color,
The fridge still held the pictures he took,
All I could see or smell or touch reminded me of
Him.

But he wasn't there.

He still wasn't, and he would never come back
Because I kicked him out in a fit of madness
And I never realized how much I would miss him
And some stupid potion will never get me to stop-
knock knock
Hello?

I used to think that summer was mean
A hot, sticky, mosquito-ridden season
With no reason to be here but to annoy me.
Maybe just because Michigan, but who knows.
I stuffed these discontentments in the back of my mind
As the summer began,
Letting them float to the surface on parade days.

Then after one of those torrential July rainstorms
Where the water falls straight down unless pushed by the wind
And thunder crackles with a static energy
I realized that as spring was clean
And as fall was crisp
And as winter was bracing
Summer was the only season
That I could sit on a blanket on a lawn
Bottle of Coke in hand
Watching a movie with friends.

It's unsafe for pedestrians
The need for speed is eminent
But I'm the only one who disagrees

We turn our backs to everyday
Adventure seems too far away
No gas money to spend among the trees

But oh, my dear,
Home is right here
In the sun, the sky
The fairyland of your childhood

The love remains
And when you come back it's not the same
As when you left
Give it a rest.

The garden is too bare today
All the seeds have blown away
But the bench you used to read in's standing here

You want to go to Paris, France
You'd fly away if you had the chance
Sorry benches in bare gardens don't compare

But oh, my sweet,
The barista still knows your order
And your books still wait
Collecting gray dust on the shelves

Your dreams of light
Aren't always as bright as you've known
Don't forget your home.

Blue is something I can taste
The thinspun candy floss
Of saccharine summer memories.
That final exhalation you take after the exam
Because really, finishing your exam is pure relief.
It is the realization that no longer are the days of
Obligation and Responsibility here;
Those days have fluttered away
Like butterflies wearing blue ribbons.
Blue is the satisfaction of knowing
That the blueberry bomb quietly bursting under your tongue
Is one of many more to come.