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Bansi Adroja Jul 10
It felt like a film

Those rose tinted days in the city
the rush at Liverpool Street
running late on my twenty first birthday
waiting on the circle line
in the cold winter sunshine
I remember coffee in the tiny cafe
when everyone turned to look at us laugh

It felt as if the world made sense
as if we’d found the place we needed to be
tucked away in a corner sharing stories
as if we’d known each other forever
like soul mates made of the same star
I knew I never wanted to leave your side
Memories that make me weepy
Anais Vionet Jun 18
I’m in the library, at school, trying to write an article for the school paper (and I'm not even ON the school paper). I’m on a forty-five minute deadline to complete a story someone else did poorly - on the edge of my vision I see someone step up to my table - a boy, I can tell, without looking up, from his school uniform. I’m hoping whoever it is will go away.. 44 minutes.
“Uhh-umm,” I hear.
My eyes flicker up and I ID “Everett Priestly” - one of God’s less ambitious efforts.
After a moment.
“Uhh-umm,” he does again.
“Parsley,” I say, without looking up.
“Priestly,” he answers with a sigh, "wanna play HOUSE?" he says conspiratorially, with a smirk.
"We were 7," I say, liberally applying syrupy boredom.

I’ve kind of known Everett Priestly forever - he lives two doors away from us - then my family became ex-patriots until three years ago. His family is rich, he’s handsome and I believe someone once told him he was charming. He fancies himself a lady killer but I’m willing to bet that he kills them with a combination of daddy’s money and poor driving.

“I’m awfully busy - on deadline Mr. Priestly - please send me a text,” I say, again, without looking up.
“I don’t have your number,” he says, patiently. “Would you like to go to Sandra’s party with a group of us Friday night?”
“OOOO! Let’s keep it that way,” I smile - this is too easy - 42 minutes.
“It’ll be FUN,” he says, with a smile in his voice - Oh, God, he’s trying charm.
“Everett,” I stop writing, look up and lean back. “You ask me out every two months. If you’ve made a bet with someone - like we’re living a teen movie - I’ll payoff the bet for ya if you just give it a rest, OK?”
He really IS good looking - but kissing him would be the apoco-LIPS.
“Why do you always say no??,” he asks, with a helpless 1/6th shrug and his GIGAWATT smile.
41 minutes.
“See you in January,” I say, as I slide my laptop closer in, give it my obvious, full attention and hopefully, start back to writing.
“Come to Thanksgiving!,” he says, as inspiration strikes.
“January would be MLK day,” I remind him. “Everett, PLEASE - deadline,” I plead (not looking up).
Everett, makes a snarky sound, turns around and slowly moves away - like a man headed for jail - he really SHOULD try out for the drama department, I decide. 40 minutes.

When Everett turned 16, his daddy gave him some kind of expensive foreign sports car - a really, really, really expensive sports car. Six hours later Everett guns this formula-one race-car out of a gas station, loses control, and totals it. The girl with him had to get stitches over her right eye.

His friends call him “EV” - they say it with a kind of a southern accent - that I can’t decide is fake or not, which gives it a hint of - “Elvis” - had a replacement car within 48 hours. He wrecked THAT one in less than six weeks - and his date got a concussion in the roll-over.

If he wants me to get in a car with him, he’s gonna to have to taser me.
some people exist in their worlds of their own - it's best if we don't join them.
solfang Nov 2020
last night,
I dreamt of you;
in the dream,
we were holding hands
while walking down
the park we frequented,
we were laughing,
and your presence felt stronger
than the times
we were once together

and even in the dream,
I was well awake and aware;
that this is nothing more
than a dream
my dreams are personalised; often enough, it is about things I can never achieve or desires that I have never gotten. This is written for an old crush I longed to have a chance, but I've learnt to let go
solfang Oct 2020
when Wednesdays are here,
my love slowly disappear;
loneliness became what I fear,
when I no longer call you
my dear

perhaps after a year,
my mind will be in the clear,
my emotions, more sincere;
even if some days,
my feelings for you reappear,
I will be brave
and not shed a single tear
So, I broke up; when we were still together, Wednesdays are the day we go on dates. I guess at one point I realised that I fell out of love because I can see that even he was too.
thelemonpolice Sep 2020
I like you
Wait it’s only been a day
But I’ve spent hours messaging
Talking all day

Yes I rhymed day with day
What are you gonna do?
I’ve wasted all my conversational skills on you

I like you
But at the same time I know
You’re out of my league
And I’ve been too slow

You’re talking to other people
More interesting
Who send better things
Than the things that I think

But I like you
But talking, I’ve figured it out
You’re too far away
And you’re emotionally down

A breakup too recent
You need to find you
Like everyone on these sites
You don’t know what to do

You don’t know what you want
You’re just milling around
But I know what I want
And I’ll stand my ground

And we might talk for weeks
We might talk for months
You might call me up
Invite me out for lunch

But you’ll never meet
Our schedules don’t align
Even though it seems
For your friends you have time

And so you string me along
Because I’m here and you’re bored
And you waste my time
Get my hopes up, good lord

And then you tell me I’m needy
You’re not over your ex
And you say your goodbyes
And then move on to the next.
beth haze Jul 2020
Kindest boy with a library that
reached the ceiling and
the same personality as
my best friend, they would talk about
movies in the middle of the street at
three a.m.
Everyone wanted us
to end up together but
it would never work out
in the end.
Moody boy with dark circles
that rimmed his eyes, always
wanted to talk about romance.
He looked at me with the softest eyes
but couldn't hold a conversation to
saves his life.
I don't know why but
I always think about him
when I'm feeling bright and
- dates at seventeen.
‪You’ll take us to the same places‬
‪You’ll sing us the same songs‬

‪To you they’re just disposable, ‬
‪To me it‘s something more‬
It = the meaning behind those things, the memories left behind them.

A person I dated turned out to be dating someone else at the same time and I found out we were both being taken on the same dates, the spots, the same exact pictures only with a different person in frame... even made us the same promises, that they didn’t even keep
s y kalindara Feb 2020
Take me back to Abington Street,
the first place you ever saw me.
I'd care to meet you again,
in that peach dress,
on a Wednesday singing of serendipity.

Take me back to Whitworth Road,
my forgotten home, our modern haven,
where we danced around the garden and kitchen,
for the moon's eyes, under fairy lights.

Take me back to The White Elephant,
and feeling elegant in my blue dress.
Matching strides and laughter in the air,
you stopped to pick a scarlet rose
and pinned it to my hair.

Take me back to The Racecourse,
and spilling secrets in the dark,
fireworks interrupting this trance in the park.
Remember how I laughed and asked if this was real?
And you heartened me with a "yes, it's not a dream or a movie scene."

Take me back to Avenue Library,
to the kisses behind bookshelves
and the whispers of poetry.

Take me back to Canons Ashby Road,
when black cabs past midnight
carried me back to your home.
That little house with the picket fence,
snowing in albums and childhood innocence.

Take me back to The Wedgwood,
to drinking cokes and playing pool,
our eyes meeting in every room.

Take me back to that black leather couch,
where I memorised the shape of your mouth.

Take me back to the cradle of your arms and your broken bed,
I've never felt comfort anywhere else.

Take me back to Abington Street,
the last place you ever saw me.

Copyright © 2020 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Okay this is the last poem I'm writing about J ****. What can I say folks, I miss him.
Dream Fisher Jan 2020
In the moments before she leaves
When her hands sweat bullets
With full anticipation of the future to be
She looks in the mirror, worried.
She looks out the window, he isn't there yet.
She looks back to the mirror,
Her hair is a mess, she fixes her bangs to one side,
She looks again outside, he isn't there yet.

She's pacing, wasting time in anxious
She notices her make-up smudged
While he's driving down the road
Looking in his side mirror to judge
Why she agreed to an evening
Leaving him self-conscious of his soul
His eyes meet his eyes and in his own gaze
He feels he could swallow himself whole.
Pulling into the driveway,
He inhales deep and says
"Don't let this one get away"

He walks to the door feeling his pulse
She walks to the door trying to breath slow
He thinks she's going to look perfect
She thinks he's going to look perfect
She turns the **** and pulls
The ending, time will only show.
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