Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
WickedHope Jan 2015
Hearts don't beat
No
A beat is something steady and understandable
Hearts don't beat
They pound and knock and shake us all
They cause us to trip, lose grip, and fall
Poem: So sort, sorry! :/
Note: So long, duly sorry!
- - - -

700 poems! Hell, I have a lot to say it seems.

I just want to give a quick shout out to all you awesome people on here!
Especially those who have commented and messaged me the past few days -- or ever really -- offering support because I'm so grateful to you all. And to all my followers! Thank you for reading and writing, words are so very important. :)
Quick shout out to Daniel Smith - Freak Morbidity for his epic comment/heroic-act-of-defense that is now forever lost. The other non-trolls and I thank you.

Stay lovely all you guys ~
Third Legacy Dec 2014
You were only a dream
A dream so real
but a dream
I could never achieve


Like the sunlight
when it reaches me
but I could never touch
With its brightness
such a blinding light
I could not hope to stare

So instead
I look at the moon
and forget to
sleep at night
because its beauty
elegance
the same as yours
reminds me
of the light

The stars that shine
them I desire
the light's still reaching me
but the star is dead
just like my dreams
My heart in morbid beat
a poem that doesn't rhyme is as a dead poem. Us
Chloe Elizabeth Dec 2014
I think from all the craziness and hectic paces of my life of madness, I never had the time to sit down and study the beat of my heart. And the truth is, maybe I did love him a little more than I thought I did.

By Chloe Elizabeth
Emmy Dec 2014
and if the sound of the rain drums in sync with your heart
then you're the lucky one
for most not all can't feel the beat of our
own song
let alone the d
                           r
                              i
                               ­  p
                                     of the rains one
-e.m
-e.m
Gabriela Dec 2014
Fill me up with each thought
that you have thought up
while you slept on your own
and woke at twelve at night
to show that you live
and that you have not yet ceased
to breathe in and out in time
to the beat of her heart;
pour out the lead that colors your heart
a few shades too dark to be seen
and scrub clean the scarred edges
so they can mend.
Stitch up each wound with the threads
that were left from your pursed lips
and speak to her through my words
and this mind of mine.
Unedited version. 100 words.
Teenage Mess Dec 2014
I'm sleeping, no not living.
The beat wakes me up, no brings me to life.
The lyrics speak to my soul, singing the perfect tune.
Like a puppeteer it controls me, dancing, moving my body across the room.
This is the song, the song that keeps me awake.
This is the song, the song that keeps me alive.
IncadesentCat Dec 2014
They said no pulse
could match the pace of mine
but our two souls
beat in time
ahmo Dec 2014
Write the pages,
catch the leaves.
Listen with your ears
because your heart doesn't care.

Open your mouth, feel the shock, disbelieve the surprise.

Read, but don't get too lost.
Remember the words you don't understand.
Love the protagonist,
But remember he will die.

Pay the man, ******* with the man, smile at the man.

Hold her hand and look her in the eye.
It shows confidence.
It shows self-worth.
It hides the shadow.

Write the obituary, scrap together the pictures, decide on calling hours.

Don't forget the kiss.
Don't forget how euphoric her soul feels when it (tries to) touch yours.
Don't forget to breathe.
Don't forget to keep the mask on.

Awake, dress in black, hold back the tears.

Don't act surprised when she doesn't call.
Don't look twice if Spring is late.
Don't stutter if the publisher says "no".
Because it will happen.

Greet them, hug them, kiss them on the cheek.

It's okay if you like winter the best.
There's something so inviting about the barren branches.
It's okay if you keep the shades down in the summer.
The sun can't listen to your vivid nightmares.

Kneel for her, grasp her hand, pray for salvation.

I can remember when a cup of lemonade or hot cocoa
solved any possible conflict in the world.
I can remember when I would laugh
and actually mean it.

Say your goodbyes, listen to the dirge, drive in silence.

And what does this change mean for us?
I think as we draw further from this idyllic place,
we long for that final state;
we long to rest and feel no pain.

Dig, dig, dig.

Dig, dig, dig.

A person, a thing, a conversation.
A feeling, a cloud, a heartbreak.
Another day, another day, another day.
Do you remember the last day you felt rested?
Do you remember the last time you heard silence?


Silence.
Andy Fletcher Nov 2014
today
while smoking a cigarette
   I saw a butterfly
dead on the sidewalk

it was neither gruesome or disturbing
    in fact
it was almost peaceful in a way
   just nature at its end

I wish I was a butterfly
    transformed
from wretchedness
into something beautiful

    to you:to me

the attraction is anything but
      physical

it eats like hell
for a solid week
   sleeps for the next three
emerges
   arrives
evolved
   into the sky

life is now at its most poignant pinnacle
beautiful
    tende
        vulnerable
    utterly free
no longer even bound by gravity
     I bet that’s a ******* trip
but
      there’s always a but
irreversibly limited to a handful of days

I wish I was a butterfly
alive for a month of this ****
and then beautifully
    quietly
lie down on a sidewalk
and die.
IncadesentCat Nov 2014
Nothing bleeds as fast as a broken heart's feeble beat.
Next page