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"I'm broken in places people don't even have names for. I'm sad. I'm nothing to romanticize. God, I'm falling apart, I'm in pieces, why can't you see?"

"You're beautiful, even when you're in pieces."
Tonight
Kyle Kulseth Jan 2015
I know this foreign method
     made my throbbing veins its home
'cuz the familiar's not familiar
     and I'm not fine
          lest I'm messed up on
wine.
     And 9/10 of all the times
I've tried to crack a smile
since I lost you have
turned out as half-assed lies.

I wander streets, worn out,
while I wonder where you are
and what you're thinking about while
     you drive down Henderson...
          I'll try to dry out
          from time to time
        but fall back into bouts
       internal I'm interred in
       eternally--and I'll never win them.
       I'll. Never. Win them.

Not without...

          Sorry...

I meander through months while
     you walk through my mind

--and I'm glad if you're happy?--

     but you were quite angry
    with me that night I took
     and torched our collection
     of 5 years' shared memories
          QUITE ANGRY
             with me.
    And the things you said were mean
          but you meant them.

And you were right
About how wrong I was
how bad I am,
and how I taste
like lemon lies
on the tongue.

     You were right.
     And I'm drunk.

And sad and sorry and selfish
and stupid and absorbed by a
salted skyline of cold, purple steel
          every night.

It *****.

You teach kids for a living,
about the age of 9.
Me? I try to dry out
now and then, time to time,
but it's hard.

And you're far.

And I'd still come if I could,
     but it's hard
     following this heart
     when it's buried
     at the confluence
     of the Red and Assiniboine
          Rivers.

Beneath The Forks...

And that heart? Like the ground above it,
     it's covered
with ******, commercial architecture
and the clothing of bureaucracy,
     but ****,
      we had fun there.

Didn't we...?
Nickols Jan 2015
"Sadness is a place?" The heart questioned the brain.

"Sometimes." Answered the brain knowingly. "Sometimes, it's' a place for dwindling."

"--So when is it not a place?" asked the heart in a perturbed manner.

"When it's no longer needed, it will cease to exist." Replied the brain.
Graff1980 Jan 2015
To speak without any editing
Edging towards the ending
To talk without a purpose
Proposing nothing new
Just spewing modern niceties
As modern nice people do

To speak with no intention
Yet live by your words
I wonder do you have to yell
Or will the whispers be heard

To speak
Tongues touching syllables
Tasting the virility of what language is
Links to the past and present
But push us to a future
Were we have no clue
Of what we will do

To speak as I do
As I choose to
Be sociable with you
Let it all hang down and out
Let us speak to figure it out
Let us speak until breath
Becomes non-syllabic death
And we can speak no more
Victor Mickeal Jan 2015
She said she just wants the simple life for us.
but gives into the lust of finer things.
You aim to figure me out
but can not solve your own complexities.
Then wonder why I won't let you in?  My skin is too thick from the hard road.
It protects my adamant heart.
I am at compacity with all these **** memories.
Nights where claims of hate turned hard thrusts into a soft body.
Tattoos of teeth marks on my shoulder
Waterfalls pouring down my leg and screams of false love with each warm ****** given against this cold wall.

So you see, the way is shut for you.
You cannot become a thought.
Only a forgotten
WickedHope Dec 2014
That moment
you realize
you're too emotional
to be conversing.
Well, ****.
T L Addis Dec 2014
all these things led you here
the oversized headlines
of your father’s newspaper
and his father's before him
the pakistani shopkeeper
who accused you of stealing
whose bark roasted your pimpled face
the boy at college you flirted with
the tall boy with the sleek curtained hair
whose family had fled iraq
who made you laugh
and nudged your knees
who went to study medicine
and never texted you back
your dad’s boss
the fat Jamaican
who sacked him at easter
just a handful of years before his retirement
the girl at work
beautiful girl
in the headscarf
who married a man she’d never seen
and when you asked her
if he was a good man
she replied joyously ‘yes!
the best man!’
the many taxi drivers
who ferry you home
and overcharge you
watching you in the dark mirror
beetle eyes glistening
caressing the face you prepared so neatly
now blotchy and wet
ketchup clown
bloated in the window
the face of second generation ivory
all these things led you here
Meg B Dec 2014
It was a Saturday night somewhere where'bouts
December the 10th of 2012;
okay, fine, I can't recall the exact date, but that's not
the point
of this;
it's so much less bout the whens and whys and so much more
bout the whats, the what the **** it was.
And it was so good.
It was just a December night
in my windowless bedroom,
and I know it was a Saturday
for sure
because Daddy was picking me
up
at 9 o'clock on the ******* dot
because that Sunday was game day,
and we needed to get to Indy in time
to swallow down some Medium Rare burgers
before kickoff.
Anyway, so yeah,
Saturday night in my cave of a bedroom,
the only light that broke the darkness's
arrogant foreground
was the iridescent glow of the four
lavender and ocean scented candles I had placed
on the shelf by my desk,
seemingly casual enough,
but nothing I ever do is actually casual,
and it never was casual with you,
as much as I may have pretended.
It was all calculated, all culminated, all animated and anticipated,
*******, yeah, I laid out the whole set up
with the candles and the music and the glow,
like a perfectly **** setting.
But it turned out after it all that it wasn't that
sexiness I thought I wanted
that hit me so hard in the gut.
It was us, sitting there on my bed
side-by-side,
bodies close enough that we were almost touching,
like I could feel the body heat from your
perfectly built arms,
but I didn't actually feel the silkiness
that was your caramel skin
against my ivory.
Nope. No touching, for once
it really wasn't about that,
not even in the slightest.
We just sat and gabbed and laughed and
cried and squealed and
joked and concluded and pondered
and on and on
and
on
it went,
our bodies every so often readjusting
their positions on my white comforter with the black
flowers,
and I really just knew you in those moments
and you I
and it was like there was no clock
no time
no morning early rising committed plans
to the outside world,
because that realm ceased to exist as
you laughed in baritone
and told me funny stories about football and your friends
and then tragedies
about a mom that never loved you right
and a dad you never knew except for
the drugs and
his lack of
presence.
And there I went telling
you about when I got kicked off the team
and the one time
I got beat up
and other secrets I never knew I would
tell anyone and somehow
on it went as we were spiraling into
the abyss full of
everything we have ever needed, wanted, desired,
fears no longer fearful
and hurt set loose;
somehow I frantically reached for my phone
realizing that we just
made an entire night of conversating
and falling into something
that could be that word I won't
use because I ain't entirely sure,
but ****, my Dad was 20 minutes away,
you couldn't stay,
and I think I just
yeah,
I'll say it,
cuz I really think that night
I fell
in love.
axr Dec 2014
Seeing him sit across me wasn't awkward
In this life we all moved forward
He was protected by the mist no one saw through
won't talk to him
it will only add fire to the fuel.
His eyes were the green pools of curiosity,
under the ocean, trapped in weeds.

She won't seem to make eye contact...
Won't allow brown and green meld,
if only for a second.
Green and brown...
Like summer leading into autumn;
my soul flowing into hers.
I can feel it, or atleast
imagine it.

He's looking at me,
but why?
I'd like to look back,but
these ghostly inhibitions
keep me from wandering.
Too many memories
barring my imagination

I can sense some anguish
emanating from her soul;
a lack of control.
Pains aplenty? Scars,surreal?
Just what is this discomfort I feel?
I can see battlefields in her eyes--
Maybe...talking,I could try?

Carry yourself to the farthest ocean
for I cannot bear your soul so close to mine
so that we may never see the same stars,
I'd wish you close, only to walk away
Heaven, send me an angel
to quell my demons
come crashing down
I shall look back with eyes filled with tears
won't open myself to show my fears*

Her everything is exactly what I need
to pull myself away from these depths I'm drowning.
Her hands could be my wings,
and I could fly to cleaner heights,
were we are perched upon brighter horizons
My second collaboration with the amazing Frank Ruland! he is unbelievably talented and I am so happy with the way this poem came out!
This took us a real long while to write, but was worth it! :)
This is just the first part, second one coming out soon

here's the link to Frank's profile, send him lifetime supply of chocolate!
I meant go read his work(walks away awkwardly)
http://hellopoetry.com/frank-ruland/
Cíara McNamara Dec 2014
You never remember
The conversations we have together.
I hold them so close to heart –
Like precious rare gem stones.

You always gaze vacantly
At that little buzzing screen.
As I open up and pour my heart to you
You are lost in a world faraway

Perhaps if I text you
You’d remember these moments too.
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