Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
A Simillacrum Nov 2018
If I
told you
what it is I want
like you
ask I tell,
would it matter much?
Matter at all?
You forget
over
and over
we've ever had this talk
so if open up,
spill my lair for you,
how I am I to find the confidence
in spite
of the fear?
And I
ask you
to give me a hand.
Explain
what it is
that will satisfy.
You agree to air.
Close your eager eyes.
Wake. And forget.
Until it happens again.
Every single bed time.
Til I hit the grave.
Pinpoint.
Comet style.
Crush the earth.
Leave a bitter hole.
Never quite sure if
I'm hurting myself
or hurting someone else.
Shannon Spivey Oct 2018
What if you kissed me
What if I wanted you to
I put these ideas in my mind
Knowing I’ll never follow them through
You’re my favorite idea
But you’ll never leave my head
Why are you in my thoughts
And not in my bed
I’m only talk
But this is no game
Are these feelings real
Or a figment of imagination in my brain
Your eye contact
It sets me on fire
Your lips on mine
Is what I desire
09/21/2017
Eleanor Rigby Oct 2018
Pear on the coffee table
Apple on the counter
A loaf of bread
On the unmade bed.
My heart in your fridge,
Half broken, half dead.


-- Eleanor
Steve Page Oct 2018
The shorts I wear to bed
have a back pocket.
When I chose to buy them
in a twin pack with a tee shirt,
the pocket was not
a deciding feature.
However, I acknowledged
that it was there by design.

For months I gave it no further thought.
For months it was as redundant
as a breast pocket in pyjamas.

Then one morning,
as I was juggling
with a cereal bowl
and clothes from the dryer,
I slipped my phone,
still playing a pod cast,
into my back pocket.

And for a moment,
as the conversation followed me upstairs
back to the bedroom,
I smiled at the foresight of M&S.
I should have realised:
they know their stuff.
Simple things make life easier.
Im in bed
My face red
My eyes puffy
But my sorrows spoken of with my mother
The lights above my bed
Dangling
Like i feel
Like i do
Tears dried and teeth brushed
I wish for sleep to come
Why IS life so hard?? Why does being a poet not pay more? My talent is obsolete.
Eachmilidh Oct 2018
I used
To wake up
And feel for the cold spot
On the pillow
To cool down
From your body
And the heat that wrapped around me
Like your arms

I could never
Wait too long
Before burrowing back in


But now
I wake up
And the cold spot
On the pillow
Has become


The entire bed.
I did not know much about ants until I found that the internet told me so,
and I still don't know what that has to do with life,
another text that I had to respond too, I didn't have to do it,
life would not have changed for me,
but I wanted to feel important and so I thanked a neighbour.

Who helped put me on a soccer team, nothing big,
but life changing.

Anyway even though we(you and I) could look back to remember what was said,
I don't,
the future of this life is unfolding within my eyes,
I am creating,
shifting,
noticing the trends in the writing of a mind designed by the public,
you,
or me,
but not I,
here in this
.
.
.
I would fill in the blank however when you grasp for a word to the point that synonyms become a common search point I worry I've driven this vessel recklessly.

How would we drive proper?

I see myself everyday stupidfied, surprised,
  unexpectedly perplex that i.

Wait did I edit this?

Not that we won't sink,
But an eternity with,
me,
you,
and I(we),
it has always been
.
.
.
I could not stop maybe it's the ,
I had to pause again,
can it be understood that some times the words can cause some unexplainable feeling that chokes you in the back of,
There,
Right,
there,
.
.
.
I wanna find out what you said.

What I could say.

What we said.

There,
That,
Hello,
and now,
Goodbye
:
:
:
Next page