Ex

Your playful smile,
Your attractive hair,
Your tiny handwriting,
Your tall figure,
When can I witness it again?

Our happy times,
Wacky jokes,
Loud laughter,
Funny faces,
Oh how I miss those days.

But how will I experience it once more,
When you have her now?
Your smile isn't for me anymore.
Your jokes and stories aren't for me either.
And lastly, your heart doesn't belong to me anymore.

All I can do now,
Is accept the truth,
Show you a fake smile,
And tell you,


'I'm happy for you'.

Back then, we used to embrace each other's warmth.
Now, holding your hand feels like touching a cold, hard lump of metal.

The other side of the bed is cold,
but my side of the bed is colder.

"Long time, no see!" She smiles like there's no hard feelings//

You're wearing the shirt you lost your virginity in. I'm sick of acting like nothing happened between us. When you cut me off it was the Great Amputation. Right now: I imagine pushing you into traffic.

But if yoh asked for me back, I think I would do it in a second

hate flows through my veins
while love drifts through my brain

each feeling more bitter than the last
every expression so recklessly blithe

if love decides i'm its suitor
then i will try to hide my mind

Poetic T May 16

Savouring its exquisite tasting
                           you regurgitate it.

Some times,
              affection
can leave a bitter aftertaste.

Just a piece of metal,
That's stained with red and white.
Leading me to sweet pain,
And such a lovely high.

Flawless drops of red escaping,
While this addictive white dust is introduced to my brain.
My mind feels so beautiful,
And my whole body trembles.
Thinking of the taste of your neck,
While servers run down my spine.

The bitter taste in my throat,
Masking the emotions I suppress.
Feelings of you keep swelling up,
So I do another line to tame them.
Your charming smile vanishing,
Replaced with lustful eyes.
Calming down my heart,
And filling up my body instead.

2/8/2017
rose Apr 30

What an interesting memory
it was sweet
yet bitter

tastes of life
Wordsinalign Apr 26

Her dark coffee-roasted eyes opened into a world that vessels magnificence, it wasn’t the other humans that created on her an impact of difference. She grew up to love the wind, seas and butterflies, she caught the moonbeams when she closed her eyes. She isolated herself from the ones that commanded words to be spoken, no one listened, and without a single word she left the locks broken. What she felt with the intensity of solitude, filled her with meanings that multiplied in magnitude. How could she explain the pure lightning in her veins, she wore a pendant of the world map on her chains. She was made to do incredible things you can tell, surviving within four walls was never her place to dwell. Things weren’t handed to her and that’s what made her wonderful, street by street she discovered what it meant to be powerful.

Mocking her tattoos, “art belongs on the wall”:
the ones she built around was her masterpiece and never let them fall. In the end its the things that kill you that make you feel alive, sitting on the edge of earth on a swing, she lived until 1hundred and five. Time taught the darling, of things that were loved bitter and sour, she travelled through the countries and living by the hour.

She wore a wing on her wrist, to her acquaintances she didn’t exist. She loved cities that made her feel like home, even on the bad days they embraced her and she never felt alone. Her lust for travel was deeply-chained, friending soils that didn’t constrain. She passed through it all like a ship in its form; Beautifully broken, this is how the sky felt after a storm.

Wordsinalign Apr 26

Her dark coffee-roasted eyes opened into a world that vessels magnificence, it wasn’t the other humans that created on her an impact of difference. She grew up to love the wind, seas and butterflies, she caught the moonbeams when she closed her eyes. She isolated herself from the ones that commanded words to be spoken, no one listened, and without a single word she left the locks broken. What she felt with the intensity of solitude, filled her with meanings that multiplied in magnitude. How could she explain the pure lightning in her veins, she wore a pendant of the world map on her chains. She was made to do incredible things you can tell, surviving within four walls was never her place to dwell. Things weren’t handed to her and that’s what made her wonderful, street by street she discovered what it meant to be powerful.

Mocking her tattoos, “art belongs on the wall”:
the ones she built around was her masterpiece and never let them fall. In the end its the things that kill you that make you feel alive, sitting on the edge of earth on a swing, she lived until 1hundred and five. Time taught the darling, of things that were loved bitter and sour, she travelled through the countries and living by the hour.

She wore a wing on her wrist, to her acquaintances she didn’t exist. She loved cities that made her feel like home, even on the bad days they embraced her and she never felt alone. Her lust for travel was deeply-chained, friending soils that didn’t constrain. She passed through it all like a ship in its form; Beautifully broken, this is how the sky felt after a storm.

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