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 Jan 2018 Saraistone
Lior Gavra
It flies amongst the stars.
Flashes for a moment.
Despite the left scars.
Holds a place close, yet far.

It carries the fallen.
From mistaken paths.
To reaches impossible.
And develops new plans.

It creates new countries.
Raises dead soldiers.
Stamps unsung heroes.
With a feeling of free.

Hear its silent sound.
Open up your eyes.
Place it in your heart.
Elevate from the ground.

It helps us climb.
Better than rope.
Do you see its shape?
It is hope.
 Jan 2018 Saraistone
Lior Gavra
Liquid courage to numb the pain.
Intoxicated to forget.
Offbeat blood, sent from heart to vein.
Returns with a guest, she just met.


She closes up, leaves the bar clean.
To her apartment, around three.
In bed she lays, counting some sheep,
That mock her, thinking she will sleep.
She hears the crickets’ lonely beat.
Reminding her of creeps she meets.
Sometimes they have a potential start.
But never truly go that far.


Each night dealt with some other cards.
But slowly starts to build up guard.
She puts less time in her makeup.
But drunks continue to pick up.
She joins in shots, hopes to pass out.
But in her head she hears the shouts.
Her heart’s hunger for real love.
Her clouded thoughts rise above.


A newly turned insomniac.
No longer sleeping on her back.
Till curtains peek with starry eyes.
So bright, leaves a forceful rise.
Her sobs like strings of violin.
A void no liquor can fill in.
Despite how much she tries to drown.
The aches resonate with shrill sounds.


Another night, still found no one.
A man enters, two drinks and done.
She questions him, “What is the rush?”
Always pulled into a quick crush.
But never really tends to last.
As he mumbles about his past.
A bartender, like therapist.
As alcohol reveals the gist.


Now drunk and loud, he starts to shout.
Before his crash, he raises doubt.
He talks about, the best he lost.
Always at home, waits for the toss.
She cheers him up, when in a rut.
He gets up again, “That **** mutt!
To see her hurt, curled up in bed.
I held her paw, up till her death.”


The next night, slept pretty early.
He was perfect, brown hair curly.
Her eyes were lost, but not with lust.
Enjoyed his smells, delicious must.
A piece of her, became a part.
Happy to save his sinking heart.
Rescued him, he slept on her rug.
Named Milo, her three-legged dog.
This is one of the sample stories in my new book, "BitterSweet," which has become a #1 New Release on Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/BitterSweet-Lior-Gavra/dp/0999497103/
 Sep 2017 Saraistone
Chloe
I am a storm that destroys everything in it's path. I will love you and obsess over you and then I will push you away because I will get bored of you.

Dear Future Partner;
I am like the sea. I am calm and beautiful until something becomes difficult. I will drown you in my sorrows and force you to feel my agony.

Dear Future Partner;
I am like a flower. I will plant my roots into your heart and I will let you rip off my petals one by one until I have nothing left to grow for you.

Dear Future Partner;
I am the wind on a cold winter day. I will suffocate you. My bite will chill you to the bone; and like the winter, my grey days will make you grow tired of me.

Dear Future Partner;
I am the sun on a warm summer day. I will give you my warmth. I will wrap you in my arms and let you soak me into your skin.

Dear Future Partner;
If you want to fall in love with me... Don't.
 Oct 2015 Saraistone
azumiya
BPD
 Oct 2015 Saraistone
azumiya
BPD
“Who am I?”
I always ask myself.
And whenever I do
Countless of flashbacks races before my eyes
Telling me that I am this and I am that
Making me feel uncomfortable on my own skin
Confusing me

“Who are you?”
I ask again
But I don’t really know

"Who are you?"
For the third time I ask myself
And I remember how I used to be
Acting differently between people I meet

And for the last time
“Who are you?” I ask
Still, flashbacks
The memories of me being innocent
Memories of me being a monster
And I ask myself again

"Who am I?"
[June 22, 2015] Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is a mental illness marked by unstable moods, behavior, and relationships. People suffering from this disorder have a persistent unstable self- image and sense of self.
 Oct 2015 Saraistone
Josh
I'm like a bird, I want to fly away.
Wrapped in a billowing yellow silk scarf
which shines gold in the light of day.

Perched on a tree branch, face the horizon.
Hope and sunlight glimmer reflected in
each determined eye which widens.  

Ruffled feathers are my warm, windswept hair.
I will leap into the sky, stretching high
To glide through the air if I dare.
  
Music from Cape Town, a bird's song my ears
spread their wings and feel the song's lift beneath
and sing sweet as the horizon nears.

I am a  bird and as I fly away
wrapped in my billowing yellow silk scarf
I shine gold in the light of day.
Wings a flitter
Iridescent feathers a glitter

Hovering briefly at a flower top
Usually not long enough to truly stop

This precious one of avian design
I  see delicately perched upon a twisted vine

The sun glinting off the ruby throat
Making it easy for on this one to dote

Although this perch may be brief
It does bear out my belief

That the light of her essence
Has me blessed in her presence

Medicine, absent of strife
Filled with the nectar of life

Life that bears the scars of complexity
Yet revels in the miracle of synchronicity

Placed on my path with divine intention
I would be remiss to discount this intervention
And yet fail to mention...

A renewal of mon couer and the magic of living
For this is the medicine that hummingbird is giving

And for me it is so easy to see
She is Nenookaasi
I've been labeled a "hopeful romantic" ;-)...just a little sumthin' sumthin' that I was inspired to write, Peace, Love and Light to all...
first
i let myself weep
then slowly
my heart bleed words
dropping into these tattered pages
eventually
forming lines
and
making rhyming rhythms

©IGMS
 Oct 2015 Saraistone
molly
Untitled
 Oct 2015 Saraistone
molly
Sometimes the things I say
don't match up with
what's in my head.
It's kinda like
how our blood is blue
but when we bleed it's red.
 Oct 2015 Saraistone
nivek
you have become the river
a flowing clear crystal

a song forever free
of all endings
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