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Arthur Doletzky Sep 2014
In my life, I have lived many different lives.  In these lives I've lived, I've met many kinds, all different kinds.
I've met people of the "good" kind, I've met people of the "bad" kind.
I've seen people of the tall kind, and people of the short kind.  
I've sat with those who could be said to be of the "nice" kind, and those of the.. Well let's just say "not so nice kind"; people of the " laxed" kind, people of the "tight" kind, and people of the "big" and "small" kind.
  Of all these kinds, I dare not compare, for each kind is its own kind of rare.
I've known those people of the "sweet" kind, and those of the "sour" kind.  Talked with those of the "high" kind, helped those of the low kind.  I've had some times with those of the "up" kind, and been there for those of the "down" kind.
  I've traded ideals with creative kinds, I've worked with the athletic kind, and I've shared and learned from the smart and wise kinds.  
  I've seen the strong kind fall and helped back up by the caring kind, I've seen the strength in the loving kind, I've seen on kind change to another kind, one kind grow to become several kinds, and several kinds merged to become one kind.
I've met narrow kinds, wide kinds, stubborn kinds, anger kinds, dark kinds, light kinds, lying kind, honest kinds, pale kinds, annoying kinds, helpful kinds, pretty kinds, so many kinds! All different minds.
  I've befriended many, still I don't think I should compare, that just wouldn't be fair, each kind is rare.  
  Each kind is a kind of its own, special, one of a kind.  You see my friend, every kind; is one of a kind.
Dakota Perez Dec 2016
(March 25, 2016 // 8:57 PM)

He's the kind of boy who will watch orange skies. He likes feeling burned while he admires them, he wants every sky to bleed colors that feel like fire on his ivory skin. He's the kind of boy who loves you most when you're highlighted underneath orange clouds, and once he sees you there, he'll picture you underneath them for the rest of his life.

He's the kind of boy who only wears glasses when he's home. He preaches about how he doesn't give a **** who sees him as the real him, yet he'll only be who he was born to be when the orange drains out. He's the kind of boy who looks at stars through black lenses as he wishes for more time, bravery, and soul; he's the kind of boy who has too much soul within himself, yet he swears he runs on nothing.

He's the kind of boy who protects you with words that cut at skin until it bleeds. He's the kind of boy who only ever shouts when he needs your heart to hear his heart loud and clear. He's the kind of boy to keep you safe with words that sizzle at your neck, leaving you red with his name engraved upon the spaces just above your collarbones.

He's the kind of boy who feels lonely. He's the kind of boy who chose electric blue to be his favorite color for a reason. He's the kind of boy who leaves you electrified, the kind of boy who makes sure you can feel the lightning of his being on every inch of skin, even the spaces he hasn't seen or touched yet. He's the kind of boy who cries in blue, the kind of boy who sees the world in shades of winter, though he favors heat, he knows the damaged parts of him feel cool and overpower the bits that want to feel warm.

He's the kind of boy who loved me in ways that I hated. He's the kind of boy who made me need him, and I needed him so much that he couldn't take it. He's the kind of boy who stopped loving me once we got too close, he's the kind of boy who ran away in fear.
He's the boy who will deeply attach himself to your insides, and then leave as soon as he makes a home for himself within your mind.

He's the kind of boy I loved until I forgot my own name. He was the sea, mysterious and hard to control. He was the blood that dripped from my lips as I bit them with every tooth when he showed me what kind of boy he can be when he forgets how to love.

He's the kind of boy who remains in scars. He's on my body forever, in places that nobody sees, on a skin that I am trying to crawl out of.

He's the kind of boy who doesn't realize he left me ruined, though. He's a boy who lives in constant halos, a boy who only sprouts the devil's horns when he's wired, so he doesn't remember how harshly he treated you the next morning.

He's the kind of boy my Dad warned me about. He's the boy who treated my Dad with respect up to the moon, yet my Dad could smell the devil's spirit on him like cologne.

He's the kind of boy I couldn't fight, the kind of boy I couldn't rip off without ripping off parts of me.

He's the kind of boy I should have closed my eyes for, the kind of boy I should have ran away from first.

Because of him, I am now the kind of girl who lives in a body that feels more like his. I'm the kind of girl who lets him come back when he feels lonely again, when I miss being electric and blue; I'm the kind of girl who waits for the kind of boy who will never love me right, or at all.

Because of him, I'm a girl who sees him on my favorite clothes. I'm a girl who can't look at street signs without seeing names on poles that marked promises we made in his car. I'm a girl who smells his devil's spirit cologne when I sleep upon my black sheets.

Because of him, I'm a girl who once admired orange skies because they were art in the air, but now I'm a girl who despises them because I know he'll always love them more than me.
(d.p.**)
the dark lettuce Apr 2015
You're talking to the air now.

It's the kind of silence after a funeral, after something has been taken that you can never get back. It's the kind of sorrow that feels like wet ashes, the kind that sticks under your nails and leaves behind heavy footprints when you run. It's the kind of pain you can get art out of, the only kind that creates but also destroys so well. It's the kind of bitterness you hate yourself for, the kind that grinds itself into your bones and sours everything you taste.

It's the kind of thing you drain yourself worrying about, that makes everything black out on the inside. It's the kind of repetition that makes you wonder if history is not so much a timeline but a cycle that's got you in a chokehold. It's the kind of abandonment that leaves you feeling at home in condemned houses; something about them resonates within you, feels like family. It's the kind of wound you refuse to let heal over; as long as it hurts at least you're grounded in some kind of existential qualifier.

It’s the kind of ache that creeps up on you slowly and then one day, before you realize it, there’s only ache left. It’s the kind of disappointment that becomes second nature, the kind that always lingers like last night’s lover, always wanting one last taste, always waiting just around the corner for the next time they scent blood. It’s the kind of loss you write poems about, the kind that’s metaphysical more than anything else, the kind that makes space wider between the letters “y”, “o”, “u”, and “m”, “e”.

You're getting older but you're not growing up; it's the kind of metastatic growth that was never any good for anyone. It’s the kind of thing you cry about in the quiet hours, the kind of thing that you fill oceans with iron over. It’s just picking swimming over sinking. It’s the kind of lesson that stings to the touch every time you go over it, the kind that burns every time you flick it open for revision.

It’s just the kind of life you’ve been living, that’s all.
Arthur Doletzky Apr 2015
In my life I have lived many different lives. In these lives I've lived I have met people of many minds, different kinds.
  I've met people of the good kind, I've met people of the bad kind.
  I've met people of the "tall" kind, I've met people of the "short" kind.  I've sat with people of the nice kind, and people of the not so nice kind; people of the "laxed" kind, and people "tight" kind, people of the "big" and "small" kind.
  Of all these kinds, none compare to to one so fair, this kind is rare.
  I've known people of the "sweet" kind, and those of the "sour" kind.  Talked with those of the "high" kind, and helped those of the "low" kind.  I've had times with those of the "up" kind, and been there for those of the "down" kind.
  I've traded ideals with the creative kind.  I've worked with the athletic kind, and I've shared and learned from the smart and wise kinds.
  I've met narrow kinds, wide kinds, stubborn kinds, charming kinds, angery kinds, dark kinds, light kinds, honest kinds, lying kinds, sarcastic kinds, fun kinds, fast kinds, slow kinds, loving kinds, so many kinds! All different minds.
  I befriended many, but still I do not think there are any who compare, to one so rare.
You see This kind, is a kind of its own.  for you my dear, are one of a kind.
If you have any tips or suggestions, please share.
Alicia Scott  May 2014
The Girl
Alicia Scott May 2014
She's the kind of girl.
Yes.
She's the kind of girl who could make your heart stop beating like a
bullet.
But could bring you back faster that your emergency room defibrillator.
She's the kind of girl who conducts the orchestra of hurricanes in your heart with just a glance from across a flooded room.
She's the kind of girl who makes use of your telescope eyes
to show you what your love will be
but can pull a shutter down too,
but only to save you.

The kind of girl who lights fires to keep you warm and not
to burn you down.
The kind of girl who holds you close without a dagger up her sleeve.
The kind of girl who holds you close whilst being an ocean away.
The kind of girl who would rip away your flesh and blood
to prove that you're more than what you're made of.
The kind of girl a failed skipping stone would fall into.
The kind of girl who holds you strong whilst being beaten down onto her own knees.
The kind of girl who lets her heart speak instead of her mouth.
The kind of girl whose eyes have experienced a more austere flood than you ever will.
The kind of girl who would take Cupid's mismatched arrow for you.
The kind of girl who would hold you still whilst an earthquake tears you from what you thought you knew and felt.
The kind of girl who breaks the mirrors which have held you captive for years.
The kind of girl who bites her fingernails, so nobody can remain underneath.
The kind of girl who believes that the heart is made for more than to pump blood.
The kind of girl who knows your lungs could never survive the flood.
The kind of girl who brings even the world to a halt.
The kind of girl who shouts from the sun to the moon,
and from the moon to the sun,
not because she understands,
but because she yearns for their love.
The kind of girl who possess wildfire hands.
The kind of girl you'd let burn you down.
The kind of girl.
Robert Zheng Apr 2017
i collect stamps
not the mail kind
not the male kind
not the may hill kind
not the mayo ill kind
not the may hue kind
not the maim yew kind
not the mwaya view kind
not the mwayam myeil kind
not the amaway yilovski kind
not the mynsigwi malomisten kind
snot snee smail skind
rot tree trail rind
trotsky braille grind
hot bree hail's tine
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
­kind
mail
mali
alim
liam
ailm
ailm
ailm
don't tell me what is and isn't poetry *******
Aditi Jun 2015
The kind of girl
Who remains awake till dawn
To write about the sun

The kind of boy
Who would follow her
To the end of world
To just watch the fire inside her burn

The kind of girl whose lips
never talk about love
All her love is written, and preserved

The kind of guy
Whose voice is a home away from the house she has always known

The kind of girl who writes about peace
Because her mind is always at war

The kind of guy who holds on to her jagged ends
While she finishes picking herself off the floor

The kind of girl who sees
color in every
shade of black

The kind of guy who looks for her broken smile in every strangers' face

The kind of girl to unassemble herself
And put the splits on the pages for display

The kind of guy who patiently reads through the lines
Just to get a glimpse of
How it's like inside her head

The kind of girl to decorate
her braids with stars

The kind of guy to put a hundred moons in her path

The kind of girl who is content with being in the background as life goes on

The kind of guy to treat her as if she is the main character to his novel plot

The kind of girl whose smile is like the first light after a long eclipse

The kind of guy to give her the highest place
Even when the darkness environs her

The kind of girl who can't stay in
A place for long

The kind of guy to know her heart won't let her go astray

The kind of girl who is not ashamed of her wings
In a world where everyone else's are clipped off

The kind of guy giving her the space to navigate
Believing she'll find her way to him
All over again

The kind of girl who will spread through you,
Like forest fire
And get you hooked up
Like some dark magic

The kind of guy who will let her do so,
Cause behind every pure magic
Are some dark stories
And everyone you love, takes a piece of you
And he wants it to be only her

These people are the ones you should fall for
Life is too short to be with people who don't treat you like you're magic and gets distracted to the illusion around them. :')
c  Jan 2014
kinds of love
c Jan 2014
these kind of love that take the hole night
these kind of love which is stuck in your mind
these kind of love that don't need efforts
these kind of love we'll never taste
these kind of love that only lasts an hour
these kind of love that we don't know how to feel
these kind of love which is unreachable
these kind of love that keeps us up all night
these kind of love which gives us troubled minds
these kind of love that we can't explain
these kind of love that keeps us insane
these kind of love that takes the hole life
these kind of love that died in the middle of the autumn
these kind of love that only lasts by the summer
these kind of love that stays only in our heads
these kind of love that are only words
these kind of love that takes so much time
these kind of love that happens in a second
these kind of love which is kind and patient
these kind of love that are beautiful
these kind of love that are ugly and bad

love love love

that's all i've been asking for
Quettevio Mar 2017
my kind of guy is quiet, sort of,
my kind of guy wears long-sleeve striped shirt,
my kind of guy has voice so warm and encouraging it makes me feel brave,
my kind of guy listens to ed sheeran and sam smith and knows i love kelly clarkson,
my kind of guy wears black shoes on daily basis like a charm,
my kind of guy gives me a bottle of water when i was dehydrated without i even realized,
my kind of guy saves the hardest thing for himself,
my kind of guy sacrifices his own freedom for a friend,
my kind of guy is ambitiously calming,
my kind of guy babbles non-sense and laughs at his own jokes,
my kind of guy receives a scholarship and is an internal field coordinator at student council,
my kind of guy loves to listen to people like it's the bestest thing to do,
my kind of guy has the kindest eyes and smile so endearing, the kind of smile that doesn't take away your breath but grows the even bigger smile on your face,


my kind of guy is him,
my kind of guy is the kind of guy
i don't deserve.
Labyrinth Mar 2014
You see, I want that, I want that, ‘my friends think I’m crazy’ kind of love.
That ‘reckless’ kind of love.
That ‘wake up early make you breakfast’ kind of love.
That, ‘crack open my life and say look, you gotta see this’ kind of love.
Forget the shallow stuff, I want the deepest kind of love.
That ‘I want to stay up late and tell you all my secrets’ kind of love.
That every time I see you walk on pieces kind of love.
I want that ‘stand next to me’ kind of love.
That ‘it’s by destiny’ kind of love.
That ‘no matter what happens to me, you’ll always get the best of me’ kind of love.
That ‘you get my heart and my mind, this world gets the rest of me’ kind of love.
That ‘invest in me’ kind of love, because ‘you already know that I’m invested in you’ kind of love.
That ‘you come home upset, and you don’t have to say nothing, I already know what to do’ kind of love.

I want,
love.
Title: To The Girl Who Works at Starbucks Down The Street From My House
Credits to: Rudy Francisco
28.03.2014

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dgm4c7Xs80

— The End —