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kain Aug 2019
Please write back
I can't save you
Until Wednesday
But please write
I still have dreams
About seeing you
Sometimes
And it breaks me
I saw you last night
At a Panic! concert
You were hurting
Even there
My mind is reaching out
But I don't think
I can reach you
This time
It's been thirteen days
And I swear
I'll never stop thinking
About your purple hair
And your bands tees
All the reasons
I gave you my number
To begin with
I want to sing to you
With my awful voice
To make you laugh
To draw on your hand
Is all I need
You're beautiful
And funny
And I'm nothing
If not a cliche
I guess that's okay
As long as you are
Still with me somewhere
Things aren't easy but I'm starting to look forward again.
Cameron Aug 2019
Love is a fickle thing,
Though romance has more sting.
Lost in her warm sad eyes,
She stared right on through mine.

I thought that it was me,
That was a fruitless plea
Back against my heart’s walls,
She tore a hole right through.

She drained my heart to naught
No blame stems from that spot
Escaped through the puncture
She searched for a lover

My heart is torn to shreds
All that is left are dregs
Now I finally see
It would never be me.
Amanda Francis Aug 2019
Let me feel the tremble in your body when you cry.
Ill hold you close like there is no world around us.
No star, no burning sun could dampen your light.
You're a flame that burns too bright for this earth.

Let me break my heart into a thousand pieces so i may love you with each fragment.
I can't continue with you, and i can't continue without you.

My kitchen tiles know the taste if my tears as I lay, pining for you early every morning...
kain Jul 2019
Moonlight
Gardening
Playing punk music
In our
Tiny backyard
Kale brushing
Pale bare calves
Soft earth
Between toes
Cucumbers plucked
From delicate stems
Eating the fruits
Of long hours
In the dry sun
On a dew damp
Trampoline
On a cool full moon
My friend and I had a conversation about being gay and gardening when we're older and I guess I wrote this.
Bryce Jul 2019
It is not my job to be a poet,

not my job to spew hopeless clauses

Not my job to weave callous causes

Not my job to print insipid logic

Not my job to parse sight through the darkness.

Not my job to tell souls to behave

Not my job to give credence to knaves

Not my job to sell this gold to the state

Not my job to give words away.

No, it's yours - -

Yours to obey, yours to disdain

Yours to compare, yours to reapir

Yours to create, yours left to fate

Years of the past are not of one date

--

Not my job, not to wish or to pray

Not to shine one's soul with spittle
And lacquer its grain

Not my job to place words, no, merely to give
Not my place to give words that do not serve fit

You all know better, you all say so
And for note, with a sad, careful bow will I go.
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