Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jolene Faber Mar 2017
I'm finally me.
Im the me that lets the suns ray hit me on a Sunday.
Im the me that takes walks to clear my mind.
Im the me that doesn't need you
I'm the me that didn't have to choose,
between letting you lie and hurt the one you love,
just because you felt unsure.
Im the me that has Joy in her pores.
Im the me that enjoyed being invisible, and knowing everything about me made you feel invincible.
I'm the me that should've been this me before the real me.
Im finally me thanks to you.
and theres nothing you can do.
Kale Aug 2016
Sometimes its good
To start the cycle over
To erase all the troubles
The subsequently haunt your
Dawning future
And just be free
Even its for an inkling
Just start over.
Emma Lee Jun 2016
When Adam ate the forbidden fruit what did it taste like?  
All the good things life has to offer?
All the bad?
Did it taste like sunbeams?
Like a childs rithmic gigles?
Like The sick, upside-down, im-going-to-***-myself rolicoster feeling?
Like tight hugs?
Did it taste as good as fields of flowers feel?
Like rain?
Like farness?
Like the saltyness of sweat-or tears?
Like silence?
Like long open nights?
Like unanswered texts?
Like lunches alone?
Like the sting of liquor?  
Like raisors
Or did it taste like blood?
You're related to the sun...
Ever so gold...
Rising invariably atop of my world...
I promise, now that it comes to you...
All that matters to me gets blacked out...
Not far from a solar eclipse...
Everything's shaded...
Even my pride gets faded...
Not a thing.. Not a word.. Nor a single soul can possibly explain it...
As if your spirit exists on mine...
Not necessarily to tear me up...
But to give birth to a new part of me...
"You" are the inception...
Matching the "Big Bang"...
Only this time, "You" are my "Own" treasured yet unsolved "Theory"...

Thu. Nov. 28th 2013.
Kawther AlKhabbaz.
It started with a poem,
& ended with another one.
This was the beginning.
Helen Oct 2015
The bottle and old thoughts haunt me all the same
In whispers of what was and should never be did we lose our way
or just vanish as quickly as the night before the day?

So many times I thought of lines
now simply I cast shadows where the blank spaces do reside.
Tomorrow cannot promise so why should I?

Let the words hold there own where I never could .
We all have a cross to bear and me?
I prefer to simply drive in the stake

But make no mistake,
what's nailed upon
an empty cross
is full of regret and loss
and underneath a barren plain
is buried pleasure and sadistic pain
self recriminations and needless blame,
but all the same
we build empires of shame
to live inside as truly insane
we drink from memories
that stoke a flame
to burn eternally, assuring fame
and comfort in a well of regret
we drink to forget, tomorrow
was just a promise made to us
by those that sit at our feet
when they crawl upon our laps
we are beat, we are trampled beneath
our own demise, we hid beneath
our own disguise
and we expired, when we desired
surcease from our wickedness

As I walk a red card in my jacket and miles of empty thoughts long cast aside
No words find solace were the demons cling to their vices.
All things decay as if to remind the living of the walk we all must bear

I find no guilt in my pleasures just more scars to bare in happiness to none.
Whispers of once was lay in empty thoughts.
I speak with a mouth full of razors all to eager to cut down the meek .
No words hold me in chains I simply but as I will nothing speaks clearly as a pause of silence.

And the old thoughts that linger to grow into rumours
Now they are all that is left of me .

Rumours of old bones that litter
the path to ruin are spoken by
those that whisper to dead ghosts
and kiss bloodless lips
inside crumbling passages
of age old keeps, on windswept
moors where bleeding eyes leak
tears weeping for something more

Down the streets cobbled with fear
slicked with garbage and the stench
of ever rotting verbiage,

Speak no more in silence, cry no more in penance of an oft abused
life that only walks alone under an
ever present thunderstorm of
howling winds and lightening strikes
and icy rivulets that trickle upon skin

This walk of sin is where it begins
I've held onto this as long as a could. He is a master of words and I am but his slave... It's always a pleasure to walk upon the path of sin with my best friend
Cíara McNamara May 2015
You are worse for my lungs
then the cigarettes I refuse to smoke.
Conflicted breathing.
Pounding heart.
Dizzy spells.
And love,
is art.
Cíara McNamara Mar 2015
Cremate me -
and from my ashes
will come new life
Cíara McNamara Jan 2015
Theres wanting love and wanting you -
Making two into one.

Two souls halved
Becoming whole.

I wanted you, wanted it so bad
I'd have lay down and given my life.

I'll never trust, or even love
You didn't break me -

I'll want again, this is true
There'll never again be wanting you.
Cíara McNamara Dec 2014
Love somebody
As I have loved you -

Be loved again
As I have loved you -

I hope I love once more
As I have loved you -

And may I be loved
As I have loved you -
Cíara McNamara Aug 2014
I sat at the table – engrossed in Poe, once again my friend had failed to show.
A young man sat at the table next to me – mumbling it was the only free seat
I smiled politely and returned to the words, which meant everything to me
Each word alone a magnificent beauty.
I noticed the man was watching me, so I turned my gaze to he.

Twelve hours later I lay on your floor, as you read me poems about the girl you love.
Each one of us became an addiction to the other, each the others ecstasy.
Each week I came and we spoke, laughed, watched vintage films, read words of beauty
And music – there was always music.
Sometimes new, mostly old – my favourite was yours.
Months passed before we met the others friends, we had been so obsessed with talking.
Your friends sweetened the deal – each a soul, so pure and real.
They invited us camping – I could hardly wait.

When I turned up the next day, you looked different – ached, with a look of painful desire etched onto your face.
You said the trip could not go ahead, but pleaded with me to spend the night at yours.
I looked up at you, with my bug-wide eyes, sharing my smile and nodded silently.
I placed on our favourite movie and resumed my position on the floor, while you lay on the bed.
The film ended and you called to me, your voice sad and pained.
“Why do you never sit close enough for me to touch you – are you afraid?”
You slid unto the floor and sat next to me, this poem you spoke was different to all the ones before.
Nervously I bit my lip and sighed inwardly – that one, was written for me.
You pulled me closer to you and kissed me in a way that had never been done before –
It was soft, sweet yet hungry and full of desire. I turned away.
“I thought we were friends,” I whispered while nervously biting my lip.

You held my gaze until I understood, this time, I was kissing you.
You made love to me for the first time that night –
And every morning and night for a year after that.
You had warned me that first night that I would grow bored of you – I denied it.
Now I see, you grew bored of me – my love flowered as your apathy grew.

It’s been some months now since you uttered words of love for me
For a while we remained those friends who spent hours talking and listening – bonding.
We could hear the clock ticking – we could only pretend for so long that everything had not been destroyed.
That addiction, that time-warp-friendship, all that talking.
“I thought we were friends” was the last thing I whispered to you
I never wanted our love, it was your doing –
Now I am the one who holds the burden of  our love, in my heart and soul

You look straight past me -
I knew we should have gone camping.
Next page