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R  Aug 2013
why you?
R Aug 2013
I cry over you and
the times I miss.
like the time you wanted me to
belt out Adele or the time you
let me not take a test because
of everything i was going through
or like the time i told you
how cute your socks were and
you put your foot on the desk and
showed me the hole you have
in it.
i miss when youd keep me
after class to ask me how i was
doing or how our fingertips would
brush and youd look me in the
eyes like you knew you felt
it too.
i miss how you made me feel
and how you knew i was afraid of
falling--not just physically but
figuratively too.
i miss when you put your hand on my
back when you brought me to the couselor
or when you wiped my tears away or
when you called me beautiful or
when you said how proud
you were of me.
i miss how youd tell me how
my future was bright or how
youd smile at anything id say or
look me straight in my eyes and
your eyes would
sparkle.
god, i just miss you so much.
why are you acting this way?
JR Falk  Oct 2015
terrible
JR Falk Oct 2015
1:42am
10/5/2015
i want to scream to the sky
the same sky that i told id love you forever
and you promised youd never leave
and scream with all the breath left in me
that i am terrible at keeping time
and you are terrible at keeping promises
1:49am
10/5/2015
I'm not in love with you anymore, I'm just so ******* hung up on how stupid I feel for having believed anything you ever promised me.
I know you meant it.
But I'm still as broken as those promises.
I have an ex ******* fiance now for ***** sake
**** **** me
SMILEY  Jun 2015
The lamest
SMILEY Jun 2015
They think theyre the best
The nit-pick my ****-ups
They must be looking in a broken mirror
So what I talk to that cute boy
So what I talk to all the other ones too
I could have friends
So leave me be
Let me be pretty without a price
But then youd be a lie
Youd be more fake than you are now
Youd have to get your own business to speak of
Youd have to find something else to look at
And your mind power is too weak
Too pathetic to keep to yourself
And stay out of my life
But just try, honey
It cant be too hard!
Just layer more paint on your face
We'll be alright
Jack Jan 2018
I hadn’t been told,
My recessive behaviour that took hold,
Had taken a destructive toll,
On my precious family as a whole.

She had called me to her room,
In a voice full of gloom,
She told me I shouldn’t drink,
For it had destroyed my ability to think.

As we cried in unison,
She tells me I don’t feel like her son,
The sweeping statement causes me to die,
As I watch my loving mother cry.

It was in this moment of heartbreak,
As my entire body started to ache,
I noticed in the last few months without a heart that sang loud,
We were all witnessing the Death of Jack Youd.
It's easy to forget the crippling affect our actions can have on those we love and, in an attempt to protect them, we cause them more pain than  we could ever imagine. There is nothing more selfish in the world than a feeling of worthlessness as we search everywhere for a meaning or purpose without a second thought of how others may be affected. we must better ourselves for the sake of others and then, one day, we will find our purpose. Stay safe and live well, my lovelies.
BTW its pronounced ( Y-Ow-d) do it does rhyme with loud.
Rachel Giudici Mar 2014
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me

im always so vulnerable with you

you told me you only let yourself be touched when you cant feel
when the alcohol
when the drugs
when the substance has mutilated your insides so that when they are inside they do not touch you vulnerable

but you touched me vulnerable
would you not let me kiss your neck because its outside?
because that intimacy is closer than all the men, all the women, that have been inside you
because you would feel the spasm of every one of my lips muscles contracting and convulsing against your skin.
because my kiss on your neck would demand to be felt,
like a knock, like a doorbell wanting to be inside, an echo that you can't ignore.
breaking the blood vessels just on the surface of a cavity holding your air to existence...
would i break your existence?

a bruise for you to feel on the surface
a bruise for you to feel the exposure
a bruise for you to feel what can be lost in memory with every heavy sigh you take in
a bruise reminding you that you took my breath away
that you took my innocence away
that you took my virginity away
that you touched me vulnerable...

you made me stop...
in your taunting saftey word phrases, in your pauses, in your avoided eye contact
i felt your vulnerability most

i confessed once that i love when youre vulnerable

you said youd walk around later hearing "let me let me let me" as i whispered at your throat
begging for you to let me into something more than your mouth, something more than your body
does it haunt you like the doorbell?
does it haunt you like the echo?
do my words stay at your throat like the kiss that never made it there...like an invisible threat or torment to your vulnerability?
do my words strangle you and suffocate your air?
are my words grasping prsion bars from the outside?
trying to touch something locked away...
would my kiss have broken your existence?

would my kiss on the outside awaken something inside you, that if i touched, would hurt you more than the bruise at your neck
because a kiss that hard is somewhere inbetween pleasure and pain
and we both know how both,when felt together, weaken your mind, your body, and soul to be stripped down, naked, VULNERABLE, shards of self not inside or outside
and that feeling of inbetween is more vulnerable than the definite evidence of a hickey left on your outside, or the definite reaction of your body to the sensations when fingers are inside
because the phsycial cannot touch your soul
because no matter how many ******* or hickeys penetrate your body,inside and out,they cannot touch your existence

i wanted to touch your existence

i didn't want to make love
i didn't want to have ***
i didn't want to have pleasure or pain
and thats why i also confessed that when you touched me vulnerable i felt nothing
because i was waiting

waiting like the doorbell that you never came to the door to answer
waiting like the knock that you never came to the door to answer
waiting like the echo i whispered that screamed for you to "let me" in
waiting to feel your existence

to exist with you inbetween;inside out outside in

i told you once before that you felt like a soul mate to me
and you touched me vulnerable
you touched me vulnerable
you touched me vulnerable
but you did not feel me

so now when i slip my fingers inside myself i feel to see if my innocence is still there
i feel to see if my virginity is still there
and this bruise that you left on my throat i press my fingers against to feel the throb of pain so i can feel if my vulnerability is still there
and they are...
they are because i kept those when i left my existence on a tongue thats tasted many souls but never swallowed
on the fingers of hands that touched many bodies but only felt the wet that washes away with the soap...clean of something permanent
a temporary high
would you let me touch you without being high? no.

you didnt care to be my first, said it was a weapon, that the only thing you wanted was for me not to regret
i dont regret. i dont regret at all.
but i hope my existence that i left to you is a weapon that you can't fight off with the drugs or the alcohol
i hope my existence that i left to you stained your hands and is holding onto your teeth like those prison bars
so that when we ****
**** because ******* has no love and is a pitiful attempt to be ***
when we **** again
i hope that if not my existence, you at least feel my presence
my presence that will be your echo, your knock, your doorbell for the ignored and dismissed love i feel in the depths of my soul for you...

the love that you will never desire to feel more than my body (outside)
that i, more than your body, desire to feel your love-not for me or for anybody else but the love you feel for yourself (inside)
and we will never be what's inbetween

we will never be more than you touching me vulnerable but not feeling my vulnerability

vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me
vulnerable you touched me...
crap confessions
crap confessions
crap confessions
that take too long to read

(mymuse)
bucky Sep 2014
she told me that this is what it was like to be a firestorm,and i believed her.youre not golden sweetheart,
none of us are.we're not meant to look nice.
this is for our eyes only.dont look me in the eyes
and pretend that you dont know what i mean
take me to the cathedral pour holy water over my shivering shaking bones
build a baby grand out of my corpse,honey,its the only one ive got.
dont pretend you dont feel it too
and even if ill never be as romantic as you,at least ill try
at least i wont leave you here
gasoline on pavement,dying the only way you know how
they told me i could be anything i wanted so i turned myself into a gun,
hollow like your stomach when all youve had to eat the past three days is stale ******* bread.
dont look at me like that.
i know all of your secrets and youre the one still forgetting about my jaw,the one you broke.
i see it in your eyes.we both know how this ends
but I wont pull the trigger on heartbreak hills
not until theres more whiskey than broomsticks beating us ******
cigarette **** wrists against a concrete wall,you always were one for a metaphor werent you?
jesus,babe you look so beautiful in this light.would you let me take your picture with the old kodak we pretend doesnt exist?
im sorry if this is forward of me,but i think id like it if you dug bruises
into my throat
loving the only way you know how,and this isnt the kind of love you see in movies
cause its not really love when neither of you can stop chainsmoking for a ******* second
to look at the way the sun glints off hair at just the right time.
maybe if i had sinners hips youd kiss me,just the way i like
too much,all at once.this,you say,
this is what its like to be a firestorm.
we tell people we're just close friends,like in the way real people are close friends,
we tell people that the bruises on both our mouths are just from the red wine,silly,isnt it obvious?
the train station is too crowded.im fidgety
and the woman in the dress sitting next to me is reading a newspaper article about string theory
i wonder if it tells her about the way i sewed my mouth shut one winter
(or maybe that was you.whatever.its the same ******* thing anyway,isnt it,you say.stop ******* smiling at me like that.you know its not funny)
i wonder if she knows that the needle does not have to be very sharp to pierce the skin.
lesson one:stop pretending that youre the dragon.
lesson two:god.god.god youre ******* annoying.cant you keep your ******* mouth shut?i told you not to tell anyone,you ******* *******.if you show up outside my house again ill **** you.
dont leave someone voicemails after they leave you for the subway station. they will not reply.
this is normal.
you called me a narcissistic ***** and i think you were right but at least i think im worth something,right?at least i havent given up on my collarbones,thrown
them away like they're ******* trash.but what i mean to say is,
at least im not like you.at least i dont have a scar on my upper lip.
stop telling me that the ******* is a ******* metaphor,
this isnt a novel and im not a vampire
and last time i checked your eyes were brown,not black.youre not a monster so stop trying to be one.
the woman sitting next to me on the airplane wont stop reciting bible verses but i dont feel any more holy than i did three hours ago.
this isnt a ******* contest.you cant compete with someone to be the most ****** up,god whats wrong with you
havent you read about cain and abel
this will end the only way it possibly can
stop hanging grave markers on walls,cant you see the marks on your fingers
this isnt a ballad for a dead man and i dont mean to be condescending
but i like the way you kiss people,ten days after the time of death
and maybe ive left you too many voicemails at three in the morning
and maybe i stained your pillowcase with whiskey and secrets
but listen up,honey,you need me more than i need you
dont lie to me,you know its true
youre lying down at the bottom of the gymnasium swimming pool
and somehow youve managed to find comfort in it
dear reader:im sorry.im sorry about the mixtapes,okay,you were never supposed to find them and-and ****,ive messed everything up.bye.see you soon,
i guess.
i am feel uncomfortable when we are not about me?
Unnoticed Notes Mar 2016
I am pathetic.
I feel ridiculous.
I feel my self believing their accusations.
But I am not just some over dramatic burn out.
if you could see my life through my eyes you would feel just as helpless.
If you felt what I felt youd try anything to escape too.
If you seen what Ive seen youd be just as traumatized as me.
If you heard what I heard youd be sobbing too.
I wish you could see what I see.
Terry Collett Mar 2015
Do steam trains go from Kings Cross to Scotland? Lydia asks. Her father sober smiles. Are you eloping with the Benny boy of yours? He says. Big eyes staring; blue  large marble like. Whats eloping? She asks, frowning. Running off to be married secretly, the daddy says. No, Benedict and I are only nine, so how would we be eloping? Practice run? No no, she says. Nibbles her buttered toast her mother gave. You be mindful, busy that place; crowds are there. He sips his tea. She nibbles more toast, staring at him. How are you getting there; too far to walk? Dont know; Benedictll know; he knows these things. Underground trains best, the daddy suggests. But how to get the money for fare? He asks; his eyes narrow on to her. Dont know, she says, looking at the tablecloth, patterned, birds. Has your Benny boy the money? Sober, good humoured, he smiles. Expect so, she says, doubtful. See your mother, ask her, he suggests, smiling, as if. Well, must be off, work calls, he says. Where are you today? She asks. Train driving to Bristol. Is that near Scotland? He smiles, shakes the head. No, Bristols west, Scotlands north; do you not know your geography? The daddy says. She shrugs. Sober he shakes the head. Well, Im off. See your mother about the fares. She nods; he goes taking a last sip of tea. She eats the buttered toast, cold, limp. She sits and gazes out the window. Sunny, warm looking. The birds on the grass; the bomb shelter still there. Wonders if the mother will. Money for fares. Knock at the front door. Her daddy answers. Opens up. Your Bennys here, Princess, he mocks. See you mind her, Benny boy, shes my precious, the daddy says out the door and away. Lydia goes to the door. Benny is standing there looking at her daddy walking through the Square. Her mother comes to the door wiping her hands on an apron, hair in rollers, cigarette hanging from her lip corner. Whats all this? her mother asks. Lydia looks at Benny. He gazes at the mother. Kings Cross, he says. Is he? The mother says. Train station, Benny adds unsmiling. So? We thought wed go there, Lydia says, shyly, looking at her mother. How do you think of getting there? Underground train, Daddy said. Did he? And did he offer the money? No, said to ask you. Did he? The mother pulls a face, stares at Lydia and Benny. Am I to pay his fare, too? She says, staring at Benny. No, Ive me own, he says, offering out a handful of coins. Just as well. If your daddyd not been sober youd got ****** all permission to go to the end of the road, her mother says, sharp, bee-sting words. Wait here, she says, goes off, puffing like a small, thin, locomotive. Benny stands on the red tiled step. Your dad was sober? She nods, smiles. Rubs hands together, thin, small hands. How are you? Fine, excited if we go, she says, eyeing him, taking in his quiff of hair and hazel eyes; the red and grey sleeveless jumper and white skirt, blue jeans. He looks beyond her; sees the dull brown paint on the walls; a smell of onions or cabbage. Looks past her head at the single light bulb with no light shade. Looks at her standing there nervous, shy. Brown sandals, grey socks, the often worn dress of blue flowers on white, a cardigan blue as cornflowers. They wait. Hows your mother? Ok, he replies. Your dad? Hes ok, he says. They hear her mother cursing along the passage. He says ask for this, but he never dips in his pocket I see, except for the beer and spirit, and o then it out by the handfuls. She opens her black purse. How much? Dont know. The mother eyes the boy. How much? Two bob should do. Two bob? Sure, shell give you change after, Benny says. Eye to eye. Thin line of the mothers mouth. Takes the money from her purse. Shoves in Lydias palm. Be careful. Mind the roads. Lydia looks at her mother, big eyes. Shyly nods. You, the mother points at the boy. Take care of her. Of course. Beware of strange men. I will. Stares at Benny. Hes my Ivanhoe, Lydia says. Is that so. Go then, before I change my mind. Thin lips. Large eyes, cigarette smoking. Take a coat. Lydia goes for her coat. Hows your mother? The mother asks, looks tired when I see her. Shes ok, gets tired, Benny says, looking past the mothers head for Lydia. Not surprised with you being her son. Benny smiles; she doesnt. He looks back into the Square. The baker goes by with his horse drawn bread wagon. Hemmy on the pram sheds with other kids. What you doing making the fecking coat? The mother says over her thin shoulder. Just coming, Lydia replies. Shes there coat in hand. The mother scans her. Mind you behave or youll feel my hand. Lydia nods, looks at Benny, back at the mother. Mind the trains; dont be an **** and fall on the track, the mother says, eyeing Benny, then Lydia. Shes safe with me, Benny says. Ill keep her with me at all times. Youd better. I will. Eye to eye stare. And eat something or youll faint. Ill get us something, the boy says. The mother sighs and walks back into the kitchen, a line of cigarette smoke following her. Ok? She nods. They go out the front door and Lydia closes it gently behind her, hoping the mother wont rush it open and change her mind. They run off across the Square and down the *****. Are we eloping? She asks. What? Us are we eloping? No, train watching. Why? The daddy says. Joking. Sober. Benny smiles, takes in her shy eyes. Whats eloping? He asks. Running off to marry, Daddy says. Too young. Practice run. Daddy said. Not today, Benny says, smiling, crossing a road. Looking both ways. Not now, not in our young days.
A GIRL AND BOY IN LONDON IN 1950S AND A TRIP TO KING'S CROSS.
talaina sorensen Jul 2017
I am a bad *****
Doing bad, *****.
Doing bad so long
It's like a habit.
Been down for so long
***** turned me into a mad *****
**** being sad *****.
Sad for what?
I don't have ****.
As soon as I got one thing
**** it's gone like magic.
Cause it cost more to have nothing
Then to have ****.
All this, over compensation
And tryna pay back ****.
That I gave to a Mf when they didnt have it.
So now Im in my bag *****.
Now im wrong cause im actin savage.
Tryna get my life together, i thought youd be glad *****..
Im jus a badd *****
Going threw bad ****.
Shot ain't right
But that's too bad *****
Ramir Nov 2014
I never knew in time
Id encounter a girl so fine.
You'd only see perfections
As her beauty is so divine

I wish id meet someone like her
Someone so imperfect youd never want another.
Someone who'd change your fragmented self
With all the happiness she made you felt

Love is a game we ought to find...
We wander,wonder,look back.
Things we've left behind..
Enjoying the chase, hurting ourselves.
keeping us blind..

Never knew love would be this fine.
Finding a girl youd care for..
Then losing her in time
For she was the girl I love the most..
I cared for..
But was never mine.
leonardo Aug 2015
i remember your voice the first time we spoke.
how it stunned me, completely,
it was comforting.

you told me every secret.
i cried that night,
hearing you recite the last 5 years.

through my tears,
you whispered "why are you upset?"

i confessed, "i cant comprehend how someone with such a beauiful soul, could be hurt so much".

you told me i was too precious for this world.

i told you i wished i could wrap my arms around you.

i wonder if you realised how much i meant that.

i walked the most beautiful fields with him, and dreamed it was you.
im an inhabiter of a vicious cycle.
of altering reality.
but i had to, just to be with you.

you talked vividly about the places youd take me.
your words rang in my ears all day.

im at the beach, its beautiful and i wish you were here.

you stopped saying you wished that too.

i drew you.

i made you that playlist.

you never sent me yours.

maybe i knew that you would drift away as youd assured me,
maybe i didnt want to believe it.

i always asked you to draw me.
eventually you stopped saying you would.

i hadnt smiled so much in years, maybe
you oiled something rusty in me

i hadnt loved so dearly,
in so long.

you made me feel strong.
saying you would never let anyone hurt me.
i felt safe knowing that.
even though you were thousands of miles away.

last week you drew him.
you showed him the same bands you showed me
you called him the same nicknames you called me
i smiled bitterly
and asked how was he

youre gonna see eachother in autmn

you think that he might be the one

youre gonna end up being something.

i cant help feeling that he is everything i wasnt.

since we stopped talking,
they started bothering me again

when your passion stopped,
i was crying so much that i couldnt let you see me.

typed out on my keyboard
things i didnt want to tell you because i didnt want to get attatched.


tonight we talked.

you did not smile when you saw me.
you did not tell me that you missed me.
when i said i missed you.

i said it makes me sad but i could never blame you.
i said i cant help it because you're so special to me.

your eyes did not flicker with a single emotion.



i love you.

but i dont want you to know.

i want you to go.

like youd never existed.

— The End —