stargirl

stargirl Dec 2016

my thoughts are blue.
my bruises are green.
all you do is
scream scream scream.

broken fingers.
misplaced trust.
my conscience is beginning to rust.
it sits idly in the swamps of my mind.
i pretend that's just fine.

i always forget how terrible of a writer i am until i try to write again.

#trust #broken #mind #scream #blue #bruise

Oct 2016

Rapunzoll

the page wanderers

my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.

© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

------------------------------------------------
my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)

#love #heartbreak #poetry #sad #depression #heart #pain #lost #thoughts #you

stargirl Sep 2016

skin / blue ruin

it is a new day, a new hour, a new second, and i have new skin.

i'm hoping it's impenetrable, but as i fall down and scratch my knee, i realize it isn't.

i'm hoping it's smoother, but as i run my fingers over the rough scab from yesterday's tumble, i realize it isn't.

the sun is shining down on my skin, and i see that it's causing me to glow.

this has happened before, but it's different now, because it's stretching deeper than my skin.
i can feel it within.

/

the moonlight casts a shadow on my skin.
it's unsettling.
it makes me feel blue.
but i am tired of feeling blue,
so i go inside,
so that maybe i will feel green
or yellow
or red.

anything but blue,
because i always end up drowning in it,
yet here i am,
talking about it like it will not
swallow me when i wake up tomorrow morning.
or afternoon.
or maybe i won't wake up at all,
so that way i am no longer held captive
by this blue ruin.

i haven't written in a couple months. these are two different poems with one very thin relation. my mind is blank. this is ******. and blue ruin is a movie reference. i apologize for everything.

#sad #sun #blue #color #skin #moonlight

stargirl Jul 2016

if these walls could talk

If these walls could talk, they’d tell me to stop writing.
To stop hunching myself over a glowing laptop screen for hours at a time,
battering my brain for a story more unique than anyone else’s.
But these walls can’t talk,
so I continue to do this even though I know I shouldn’t.

found this in my documents on my laptop

#sad #alone #story #talk #walls #ishould

Jul 2016

NV

\_

because all my heartbreaks hang around my neck like charms on a necklace,
i could easily turn into a noose.

and i try let these worries sit on my tongue until they become soft enough for me to swallow them whole.

but my heart,
my heart is barely beating,
like the hands of an antique clock,
someone forgot to wind.

Jul 2016

SE Reimer

slow burn

~

think again if you believe
light is but a rapid blur,
consider that the spark
that lives between
two lover-friends, is light
exchanged in slow fashion;
the slow burn of a campfire,
the sparkle of her passion,
the flicker of a candle,
whisperings of the starlight,
the way a moon beam
bends the tides,
and makes her eyes twinkle;
each my confirmation,
of light that moves
so satisfying slow,
allowing flames to ever grow
ever higher, higher,
kindling sparks into a fire,
for love that lasts
is not a spark alone...
no,
love’s passion is a bon fire,
a sunset setting sky aglow;
an ever-building slow,
to effervescent ether;
a gently flowing kiss,
a living, colored tapestry
of drifting twilight mist;
this the speed of light...
my heart’s desire,
mirrored in my lover’s eyes.

~

*post script.

love at the speed of sunsets and star gazing;
evenings spent round the campfire
with only the light of the fire,
the stars and that sparkle in each other's eyes...
falling in love, all over again!