Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
you reach the bright light that enticed you and you walk into a white, glistening room. there is a boy, the kind that reminds you of autumn leaves or the ocean during a storm, standing behind a cozy chair.
"hello," he manages with a pained smile. his voice is rugged and deep, but sad. he motions for you to sit down, and sits across from you. after a moment of resting his face in his hands, he looks up to tell you that he was waiting for you. his voice cracks and his fist clenches as he says, "we were soulmates," his eyes are piercing as they fill with tears. "this isn't right," he croaks out.
he leans back, swallows, and tries to gather himself. after a moment he sits forward in his chair and his eyes trace your features; he can't pull them as he says "god, you  are  beautiful."
he takes a deep breath. "we were going to meet at twenty-three," his eyes still glued to you. "i just don't know what i'm supposed to do without you," he looks at his left hand, rips off the ring and throws it, now in hysterics. "we were soulmates" he cries, and paces, aware that he's running out of time. "you shouldn't have done it!" he screams, tears rolling down his cheeks. you remain completely still, you couldn't move if you wanted to. "if only you wouldn't have done it," he sobs. and all at once, he disappears, and you are left in a plain white room, alone with two chairs.

if only you wouldn't have done it.
I could write entire novels
slowly down your body
my lips pretend to be a pencil
and your spine, my only hobby
gripping tightly to your chest
as if your bones are now my desk space
carving letters of my longing
down your arms
my lungs are desperate
for the right to be your air
while my breath endures this chest ache
forgetting what a life outside
is like
your ribs become my breakfast
your body is a mountain
I continually climb
and your neck becomes a bite of hope
that haunts me all the time
your skin is like an ocean
your salt becomes my wine
you build with your two legs
a space for me to live inside
and I study what you're made of
I compare you to the sky
like the moon you glow on top of me
like the stars you blow my mind
 May 2014 skyler molina
Jay
I don't remember when the **** my poetry became about pleasing people or getting votes or views.
I don't remember when my writings were only created to be approved by a friend.
I don't know when things became about success or money.
I don't know why it turned into pleasing a lover.
But as soon as it did become about those things, I lost my spark, and suddenly writing was a chore.
I'm done with burning in my small spotlight with nothing flowing on paper,
I just want to be free.
It's time I get back to writing the way I used to.
For my emotion. For my passions. For myself.
Ranting to myself.
Don't mind me.
 May 2014 skyler molina
Revenant
You are shocks down my spine
Electricity
Fear
Wonderful
You are warm hands and heated breath
Flashing eyes and quiet smiles
You are soft touches and pressure
Long nights and quick pulses
How these butterflies flutter about, as if to wish release from goodness.
Always screaming doubts and madness
Madness
Madness
Madness
This is madness
Breathe
Breathe
Breathe
Madness

— The End —