the moment I lay my eyes on you,
it was like putting another stone on stomp,
I buried your soul from the first heavy stair
like I'm extracting your innocence,
this is how I became a fisher of men.
Using words to finish what lord made.

All we do is Catch fish.
The mall, Campus even the street are the only occean we live in.

Next.
I decided to use a first person narrative, hoping it will be more intimate.
sky Dec 2018
I long to be buried
along with who I am
under what I did
above what I was
Anya Dec 2018
“Well...”
A dry voice echos
Of course I wear tennis shoes
On the day they’ll grow wet enough
To go squeak
Squeak squeaking around
The shiny white floors

While my dark hair quickly
Becomes flecked with
White speckles

I feel rather
Like a scarecrow
Doing my best to resist
Nature’s whims
Fighting a losing battle
An inescapable fate

Of being blown away
And buried
In the snow
Amanda Oct 2018
I am not sure how to say this
Without tearing your heart out
Feelings have been growing
Rosebuds finally reaching my mouth

Kept them buried deep down under
Surface of my skin
Denying obvious truth to guard
Your heart from budding thoughts housed within

Began sprouting from the soil
First one then 2, 3, and 4
When I look at you I can't help but think
"We aren't working anymore"

Dozens of roses fill my mouth
Every petal sprouting from regret
Scented scarlet drops blocking airway
Posing to my life a threat

Leaves of guilt suffocating
My throat chafed and raw
Invasive flowers stretching towards freedom
Bursting out my now-broken jaw

Hate myself for doing this for you
Plucking each seedling from my skull
Transplanting them to your garden
Until head is no longer full

Seeds of truth are your burden to bear
For your wilting heart I am to blame
I planted love then roots strangled your soul
Yet I covered in dirt just the same

Water blooms or let them either
The choice no longer mine
I'm attempting to recover from
The damage inflicted by weeds inside

Tongue is strewn with gashes
Bleeding sin and hopelessness
Thorns so sharp perforating
The walls enclosing empty chest

Bestow to you this rosebush
I hate to cut you this way
With painful perfect honesties
To nurture and grow your own bouquet
Some thoughts start as small weeds but grow into massive fields
Rohan Press Oct 2018
requiem, black
ink, darkened pencil-
tips paint the air.

lethargy is a
green that defies
autumn.

its darkened
palms (once open,
once layering you in

cold) gently remind:
we'll all ensconce
in ground.
you wore four layers today.

i have only one: but it opens up, unleashing my heart, every time you stop by.
Virgil Matheson Oct 2018
Emotion hits, and it's clear you aren't dead.
You never were, you were simply buried alive.
You've been dug up now.
You can feel now,
And you kinda wish you couldn't.
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