Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Emma Marke Jan 2015
I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward, my face becoming warmer from the heat of the bonfire. All of our friends were around us, talking and laughing voices lifting up into the sky with the bonfire smoke. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs, eyes still on the fire. I couldn’t look up, because I knew what I would see. You on your phone, either looking for the updates from the game or texting that new girl you’ve tried to keep secret (you can’t lie to a liar, honey). So I didn’t look up. I stared at the flames dancing along the logs, at the smoke lifting up, flirting with the sky. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t look up. I —
looked up. And found your brown eyes there to catch my blue ones, and found I could not catch my breath.
Meg Howell Jan 2015
Let's have an extravagant bonfire for all the lost loves
Burn away the smoky taste of heartfelt memories
Let the fire be our passion
Bright and uncontrollable
And the ashes be the old gone forever
For we are two flames shooting up in a sky full of scattered thoughts and meaningless I love yous
Brittany Wynn Nov 2014
Alone, I sit with my feet
propped in front of the flames.
Heat pushes along the curve of my instep.
Bug spray coats my legs and arms, stickier
than sweat, which flows like raindrops down the back
of my neck, pools in the valley between my *******.
Even the air feels too warm in my lungs.

Games and night walks do not appeal
to me as I sit in stifling confinement without
a cool breeze to whisper relief.  Suffering the fire pit’s front
row seat wins over stretching my lips into insincere
smiles, watching, but absent, while
my friends talk of a life
I try to forget.

Snickers buzz up to my ears.
I lean my head back
as a whole pitcher
showers me with
arctic salvation.
Virginia Whiddon Nov 2014
Someone asked me my favorite color.
All I could think to answer, was that
pink and orange mixture that radiates
from the sun a half hour after 7
in the beginning of October,
reflecting vibrantly in her hazel eyes,
while her fingers are entwined with mine
and the faint smell of her perfume
blends with the Autumn smell
of mowed grass and bonfires.
Poetic T Nov 2014
I would show them their seats
Each had there own, painted faces
I would greet,
Sir,
Madam,
Sit
Upon the table surrounded by friends
But too quiet as they sit still
"No movement"
Temper flares
"You are dead to me"
As I throw them out,
"I relinquish these friendships"
Bodies now burn on a cremation of death,
"I am better without you all"
New friends to meet, to keep,
As  I speak to many in the following weeks
"Would you like to be my friend"
"Why not ye"
"You seem like a  nice bloke"
sealed is there fate with but one word
YES
They wake up my friends of solitude
In rooms kept safe
For each will sit at my table,
I am there only friend needed
"Till we must part"
They should know the rules
As another bonfire of the forgotten will
Light up the night, departed friends
"Missed so much"
Sit,
Smile,
Friends
In chains, some cry with joy
One screams obscenities,
"Pardon"
"What"
Silence
Follows, as all around now smile
He will sit again painted face in silence,
They compliment my food,
I don't like the look one gives,
"a silent one"
"Now never breathes again"
The quiet ones consume
Till the last,
Bleeding upon the floor
Tears stream
She says quietly,
"Burn in hell"
Then face plants the food, I worked
My fingers to the bone,
"No respect"
I don't waste time
Silence is a killer among friends
So the bonfire burns
Bodies now burn on a cremation of death,
So many friends lost to silence,
"Will this struggle ever end"
"NO"
Third time lucky,
I will never be alone like before,
I will **** to have the perfect friends
**"HI WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE MY FRIEND Y!!!!!"
another notch in the serial-killer collection
Candy Noire Sep 2014
I crave to be near
But you burn me at the touch
You leave your mark on me
And I use you like a crutch
When you smile I feel our spark
And when you frown I just smell smoke
Stuck in a cycle I'm left in the dark
But without you I would choke.
Sam Kirk Jun 2014
I've only been camping a handful of times and this is the first we've been in about a year and its very nice and the outdoors is very comforting.  The stars in the sky shine so bright tonight, they remind me of my lovers smile. The bugs chirp and make so many noises it keeps me up, at late hours. The weather is hot and its humid so my hair sticks to my face and I sweat. I have to *** so bad but everyone is asleep and the bathrooms are unbearably disgusting. It took us almost an hour to set the tent up and we had hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner. The bonfire was warm. I can't wait to get out and go swimming in the lake later. Camping is alright.
This has no purpose really just felt like getting thoughts out..
I drink in moonlight
like the lemonade hours of sun
that leak in through
broken windowpanes
wasted hours
like honey droplets of time
sink in bones and tint them yellow.
Hands so big they could swallow me whole
wrap around my waist
and lick swollen elbows with fire.
Rotted fruit with
sickly sweet perfume
penetrate my
memories
and imaginary kisses.
I used to think I liked melodic voices
and soft leather jackets
winks like untruthful sweet medicine
melancholic lies and performances.
Conversations stretch like
curly cords of telephones
glowing screens wash rooms
with blue light
and sink in mattresses for future dreams
Jeans laced with smoke
and signals
questions and confusion
the sound of my heels on pavement
all little love songs
singing your name.
sk.

— The End —