Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Matt Sol Jan 2019
A cozened rose
perforated
into bloodlines
nights ive painted.
Cold and distant
in the frail light
broken words to
my folded eyes.
Strikingly pale
to the sentence
that I bear down
in my wishes.
vera Jan 2019
the rose, scented and floating across from me
its thorns were prominent and sharp
a means of protection for the delicate creature
red pigment screamed to the sun
wishing to meet the sun´s eyes
the petals stretched and reached with the leaves

he stayed perched up in the skin
blinding those who got too near to him
the sun never took notice of the bleak rose
he was busy shining for the world around,
drying children off as they played in the cold ocean waves
deepening the nutmeg color in the skin of those who let him

so the rose whined, and reached endlessly for what she could never grasp
and the sun continued to do his job, never realizing the fulfillment he would've had,
if only he took a chance
- the story of my lover and i
Brandon Jan 2019
He buried everything he felt.
sprout out of the dirt
Upon setting his eyes on her
Now it blooms into something new,
growing stronger and taller
green leaves and colorful flowers
reaching the sky,
being taken by the wind
everywhere he goes
he finds a piece of what he buried
This is a translation of a poem I wrote in Spanish awhile ago, tittled ‘Desamor’ I like this one better. When I try to forget about something everything reminds me of it, that’s how it works with me.
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2018
She is so pretty like
blooming sunrise.
Her beauty
in her shadow
is burning fire.
Mackenzie Nov 2018
I loved him so
He told me to be his Bonnie
And our love would never die

I'd help you **** an innocent human
We'll cover it up
I'll help you lie

Blood is on your hands and
In front of you a tomb
Here lies the dead
Her death was by you

Around my grave
So many flowers grew
Red roses with thorns
Don't touch or
You'll have blood on your hands too
Thank u
Stu Nov 2018
Tears grow heavy as you watch all that you once were begin to rust away.
You do not feel sadness,
but nostalgia,
as clouds containing past lives and past loves circle the space around your head,
Screaming in your ears.
However, you know that becoming a new bundle of energy and knowledge is a great expedition you must embark on by your lonesome, without distraction of any sort.

Those dust-covered shoes struggle to comply at first,
But without any other hesitation,
you set off towards a door that has now made itself known.
With a hand pushing through,
you turn to look at the carcass of twisted memories and,
not knowing if this is directed towards yourself or maybe something bigger than that,
you ask aloud,
"please, tell me before I go, who was this one? This time around, who was I?"
Gutter Grimer Oct 2018
Dripping in and out
A framed landscape
Of seasons
Permeated on your porch
Blooming in their decay
Sulfur would smell
As sweet as summer
Within these picket pillars
Xaela San Aug 2018
Wish upon the stars

the flower I saw that day 

will stay blooming.
Next page