Grace Aug 2017
sometimes i forget that i
exist so
desire me, require me
am i not the oxygen that keeps you alive
the very oxygen that could set you alight

skin on skin,
right left and centre
blazing trails along my spine

set my lungs on fire
watch as i burn alive
from my stomach to my throat
burn me up, liquified fire
melting into my brain, setting my nerves aflame
i had no idea what to name this poem, if you have any suggestions feel free to let me know, thank you in advance :')
Grace Aug 2017
i miss things that ive never had;

i miss the way you never stroked my hair
i miss the way you never held me in your arms
i miss the way you never said you liked me
i miss your non existent embraces, your content smiles,
how you refused to tie my laces
and how we never tried new things together
how we didnt go on adventures,
how we didnt explore the world

these are things i imagined because
most of all
i miss the way you never noticed me when i have,

been here the entire time.
Grace Aug 2017
today i kept thinking i saw you,
with your ***** blond hair and
awkward smile
your self confident stride
and sense of style

my heart jumped each time
at the mere idea of your presence,
as my body has yet to unlearn
its reaction to you

every time i see you
you never flinch or even glance my way
you walk closer
and then suddenly
it's not

my eyes flit down
i realise i was staring
my mouth involuntarily makes
a small disappointed 'o'
i realise i was holding my breath

but the very next second
my eyes flick back
and imagine your presence all over

no matter how far away you are,
miles, hours or oceans away
im still determined to find
you in every crowd
Grace Aug 2017
-the stars
-the moon
-the galaxy
-other galaxies
-the insignificance of humans
-the concept of time
-the possibility of other dimensions
-your laugh and the way your eyes crinkle at the corner
Grace Aug 2017
i miss you like a lunar eclipse.
you dont cross my mind 364 days out of 365
but every four years
a total eclipse of my thoughts

and on burning cold nights
lonely witching hour
does my mind wander so
remembering soft touches
and melting whispers
fleeting feelings
and lingering lips

frustration clouds my memories
like fog wisping across the moon
shadows and doubts created in its
absence that are
only visible once in a blue moon
Grace Aug 2017
they say the tortured poet
forms the most beautiful words
i say the tortured poet
is tortured.
Grace Aug 2017
do you remember when
we talked of our
futures way back then
as we each held a plastic cup
filled with our hopes and dreams

i spilled mine by accident
as i watched you drink yours clean

we laughed easily,
fizzy bubbles lifting us
up, high
and above
the world infront of us
as our hands reached
outstretched naïvely

your arm around my waist,
a cup inside my hand,
i could conquer the world
exactly like this.

here's to us
cheers to
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