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Laura Thomas May 2015
September
He is possibly the most beautiful person I have ever seen. It'll be hard to get him to notice me.
October
He flirts with me sometimes, but maybe he flirts with everyone.
November
Why am I keeping track of where he is in the-oh **** he's coming over.
December
He sat next to me. He gave me a party hat that said matched my eyes.
January
Who?
February
Oh don't let this start again. He's opinionated, he's pretentious... he's flirting again. ****.
March
You won't be seeing him around anymore. Shame.
April
I could have sworn his eyes lit up when he saw me. Wow he's actually talking to me.
May
Oh **** he's there already waiting for me.
He's there. And he is waiting, for me.
Laura Thomas Jun 2012
Cracked concrete, soaring sky scrapers
Hundreds of shoes patter across the ground
Designer summer collections of 1988 worn by many
Horns chant an uncomfortable song
And the streets,
littered with humans, cars and buildings,
can barely feel the sun.

A Georgio Armani Suit can be seen in the crowds,
Double-breasted, jet black.
It's cool style attracts attention in the midday sun,
as does it's owners confidence.
Expensive product makes his deep brown,
perfectly slick hair appear black.
His unidentifiable expression intrigues many,
a certain smugness lies within it.
His confident, conceited business strut reflects his situation;
A successful, handsome commodities broker
with a blood spattered rain mac in his $3,600 Ralph Lauren briefcase.
My poetry interpretation of the book American ******, based on Patrick Bateman.
Laura Thomas May 2015
It's the strangest thing.
You're across the room and I am relaxed but aware.
You're near me and I can talk and think, but I can't really focus.
Then you're close, and it's all I am aware of.

We're stood on the underground, talking confidently
Playing our game of flirting
And then the doors open and people pour on
Gently encouraging our bodies closer together.
He voluntarily moves closer, his face an inch from mine
And my mind numbs.

I can feel his arm against mine,
His breath on my face,
Our legs slightly entwined from the crowding,
And I freeze, both nervous and electrified
Aware of how easily I could embrace him
Aware of how much I want to.

The moment passes and my heart slows
But my body is more aware of his presence
Of how near to me he stands every so often
His face so temptingly close to mine.

I am so unsure of how he feels that I go over all the things that prove he likes me;
him placing gum in my mouth, avoiding my open hand
his eagerness to see me even when it's inconvenient
his intimate smile when I make him happy
his infectious laugh when I say something funny
his reference to our inside jokes
his snapchat showing that I am his favourite
But most of all his ignorance to my personal space
A space I want him in.

I count the minutes until you will invade it again.
Laura Thomas Mar 2016
Usual days
Up, read, coffee, shower, out, more coffee, work...
All pretty normal stuff.

But every now and then, life feels better
when you get a smile from a stranger
when the sun shines suddenly and brightly
when you find a song you adore.

These little now and then's make living
Ever changing and absolutely wonderful.
Laura Thomas Jun 2012
It has the freedom of a bird,
the trust of a child,
the adoration of a mother,
the lust of a player...

The curiosity of a cat,
the bite of a shark,
the fire of hell,
the obsession of a stalker...


the love of two lovers
*who are not even true lovers.
Laura Thomas May 2015
It happened.
Everything I'd ever wished to happen with you; it happened.

And yet,
everything is worse than before.
I didn't think about what would change after it happened.
I didn't think about how
I would want to kiss you so badly,
I would desperately crave your company,
I would be heartbroken knowing it would never happen again.

I wish it hadn't happened.
Laura Thomas Mar 2016
The world was on fire
and no one could save me
but you.

It's strange what desire will make
foolish people do.

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you.
I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.
And I don't want to fall in love with you.

What a wicked game you've played
to make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do
to let me dream of you.
what a wicked thing to say
that you've never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
to make me dream of you.

No, I don't want to fall in love
No, I don't want to fall in love
with you.
And I don't want to fall in love
No, I don't want to to fall in love
with you.

— The End —