Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Yanamari Sep 2019
My Past and I
Walk hand in hand
Every day
That I come to stand,
Grip adjusting
From a gentle caress
To a tugging demand.

And in
Laying in molten tar
And stroking frozen walls
I forget that hand; to mar
My skin invisibly to the core.

I am yet to understand
The warmth of that hand
How to hold it and
Be gentle without reprimand-
For the crumbling
It causes and the
Constant fluctuating
Pushes and pulls
A lull-
Laying me down to sleep.
Kore Nov 2018
in my family
I Love You
is silent

a hand over
yours
a meal made
with you in mind
exchange of
laughter

the
I Love You
is seen not spoken
dumping some poetry i've been writing in class
EP Robles Oct 2018
SQUEEZED is my brain  so i think nothing like no thing
stitched partly into vengeance and frozen time  Madness
i can hear the poisoning troop of deception cloaked behind
lies calling me
   ooh oh ooh   aah ah aah
so show me ruin  show me evil
show me unsee-able things
i will show you armor
i will show you strength
i will slay you from now
until the very end of time
  some call me nothing
  some call me conscious
  some call me love
I AM HEARTBREAK

:: 10-06-2018 ::
None
K Balachandran Oct 2018
Western sky canvas.
Two skydiving birds alter,
The dynamics !
mj May 2017
EVE
Dear Eve,
The beat of my heart
The gasp and sigh of my lungs
The conversation hid under my tongue
You are my passion.
My everlasting light.
The promise of dawn that pacifies me through night.

Eve,
I am nothing without you.
I am nothing without the balm of your fragrance,
The compassion of your embrace.
The warmth of your smile.


Eve,
You carried my burdens on your back
You bared the weight of the world
You birthed my sorrow and pain
I bled and drained you for my gain.

Eve,
Will you stay by my side?
Will you promise?

Eve,
Will you smile once more?
Do I deserve solace?

Eve,
Forgive me.
I welcome my fate.
But I can’t accept yours.
Nabs Dec 2015
By: Nabs

    When I was little, my mother often gave me flowers.

She would make me a crown of Primroses that smells like the day my father left us.
I would smile and dance a little twirl that had her smiling fondly. Her little princess, Said she couldn't live with out me.
I believed her.

Right before my mother decided to stop breathing, she gave me a bouquet of Lily of the valley.

I never knew that apology was poisonous.

    The day I turned fifteen, my grandmother gave me a book on flowers, It was written with green ink and bound in human skin. Said that It was family heirloom. Said that the universe needed someone who understand Hana. Said that I was born to understand only them and to remember that flowers are ephemeral.

I cradled the book, feeling as if the world was spinning. Opening it feels like coming home after a long time of drowning.

By the time I realized, a bush of Basil and beds of Petunias were growing in my home like ****. The color should have been red instead of purple.

      I met you when you were giving a bundle of daisy to a boy.
The boy scoffed and slapped the daisies to the ground. It's petal were falling apart just as blue and black blooms like an eager bud on you. Your body were taut as a string but your face was smiling, the kind of smile I couldn't decipher the meaning.

I picked the daisies up and asked if i could keep it.  You said only if I gave you my name.

You were wreathed with White Hyacinth and Pine leaves. It suits you.

    You told me one day, after you gave me a Bleeding Heart, that I needed to learn more than the languages that flower speak. That I needed to learn human.
I asked to you why do you say that?
You looked at me, with a little smile and a soft look on your face. Told me that I was too oblivious, I was more flower than human. I frowned and said," That hurts".
You laughter was much more sweeter than any Honeysuckle.

Though I still didnt understand your laughter nor the bleeding heart.

    The sight of our hands lacing together, looks much more delicate than Queen Anne laces. It made me aware of the dips of your lips, how warm your callouses hands were and the way you sometimes darts to sneak a glance at me with warmth in your eyes when you thought I wasn't looking.
I would feel my heart thumping loudly and I would disentangle our hands, trying to hide the tremors in my hands. You would pursed your lips and cracked a joke.

The next day I received a bouquet of Lilacs and red Peonies. It was too beautiful and I was already withering.

    You often asked If I was ok. I said I was. You would go rigid at that and started to pull down all the blinds to your soul. But that day when I answered I was ok, you gave me an Orange mock.
Said that I can trust you. You left with out meeting my eyes.

That night, I left a single Aster on your window sill. Hoping I did the right thing.

    The thing was, I was scared. Not of you, no never of you. That I swear on White Lilies and Myrtles that we bound ourself to.
It's just, every time I'm with you I want to bare my self naked. To let you see how the parasites are growing inside me, withering me as it did my mother. My grandmother would say that it is our legacy we cannot escape. To grow and bloom then wither ourself after the peak.

My Grandmother was a Sakura tree, My Mother an Ajisai, and I was a Tsubaki.

My mother was supposed to lived longer than me. But Hydrangeas needed their rain or they'll wither away.

    You told me once, that I remind you of Wisterias. Always enduring even after the cruelest storm. I grimaced and whacked you on the back. Said that you were an idiot for thinking that. You laughed again and tickled me until I asked for mercy.

I feel less Tsubaki and more human with you.

    I never let you go to my home because I could not bear the thoughts of you seeing the lawn strewn Marigolds, the grief that latched itself to the soil.
How the yards was filled with weeds and plants that was tangling them self to choke each other. How the walls was bare and the furniture was only enough to survive. The only thing that was lending colors to my home were the branches of Plum Blossom and bouquet of Lilacs and Peonies that seems to not wither away.

This home would not hold further.

    I gave you Blue Carnations the night when vines were choking my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe.

You said they were beautiful, and smiled a serene smile. I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I was leaking clear salty sap, that was rolling down my cheeks. I told you all about Hana and all about my family. How bare my home is and how you are my Iris, my good news, my good tidings.

You hugged me, not minding the sap that's staining your shirt. I didn't see the Red Camellia you were tucking in my hair.

  The day when I almost gave you Red Daisies and Lungwort was the day I found out that you had severe allergy to flowers.
That breathing their pollen would shorten your life as the breath you took became a privilege that you were slowly losing.
I asked, "why would you endanger yourself like that?".
"I love flowers, that's all", you said with an uncaring shrug.
The thoughts of you withering away, made me nauseous.

I went home throwing away the Daisies and Lungwort, Burning down the marigolds and Petunias.

The only thing was left were Hana and the bouquet of Lilacs and Red Peonies.

  I never get to told you that my roots was withering.

  When you found me lying on my home, covered with Primroses, Camellias, and Blood Red Poppies, I know that you knew. In your hand were Peach Blossoms and they were so very beautiful.
You cradled me close to your chest. Whispering that I will be okay, that It's unfair for me to do this to him.
"I know", I rasped. My voice was barely working and Black-Red sap was steadily tricking from the corner of my lips.

  When I saw my mother walking down to me, carrying a basket full of Sweet Peas, Volkamenia, and Yarrows, I understand what your smile meant the first we met.

It was Red Camellias, Love and acceptence
Thank you for reading this long poem.
This is a tribute for flowers.
Hope you guys enjoy it.
Nabs Dec 2015
By: Nabs

A crystal clear laugh can be heard
Coming out from your lips
The fluttering of your eyelashes
Remind me of butterfly wings

You often speak quietly
Not out of shyness
But because you don't feel the need
To shout out your existence

The heaving of your chest
As you take each breath in and out
Made me remember the time
When you tried to choke it all down

Sometimes I see the spidery veins in your hands
And I think about lacing our hands together
How imperfect you are
And how the blood stains will always stays

We cried together, once upon a dream
I wipe your tears and you wiped mine
What comes off was a different thing
Yours were pain and mine was loneliness

Sometimes I wish I could trace your tear tracks
You never bother to hide them
You were never afraid to show it to the world
Maybe that is why they decided to burn you down

When I lay down, closing my eyes
And sleep under the willow tree
Often I see you hanging
Shards of crystals protruding from your back

Watching as the blood,
Drips down from your body
Pooling on the ground, turning the grass red Like the poppies you love so much

You often ask what love is
I would choke at that
And my answer would be lodged in my throat
Couldn't come out

Couldn't
Wouldn't
Such a paper thin difference

So I would reply with nonsense,
"Dude, why the heck would you ask me that? You're definitely asking the wrong person."
You would laugh at that
A loud free laugh as if it was wrenched out of you
And I saw you shatter more

There is one night
Where you sneak into my private corner
Where you smile mischievously
You left with a gift of awareness of your presence

You often fell asleep in the middle of a sentence
It was funny at first
And I would laugh
I could not find any humor after the tenth time it happen

Destruction often follow your footsteps
You would claim you do not intend it
I would pretend to not see
That you left wounds because you are wounded

"I'm happy", you abruptly claimed one day
You were lying through your teeth
But I could see that the cracks are getting wider
"I'm happy too", I said.

We laughed at how foolish we are

Sometimes time with you passes
Like sands through my finger
It is as if we have a hourglass
For our time together

I feel unsettled by that

We were pretentious
You and I
You would grin your **** eating grin
And offered me a high five

How could you be so perfect
With all the imperfectness you have
I never believed the word perfect
Until you with all your cracks, stood in all your glory

"I am drowning", you confesses to me one day
"In what?", I would ask
That night were a pitch black night
But I could feel your eyes boring into me

Later on, I would say that I am drowning too
You look at me startled, eyes glowing
Then you lace our hands
And letting the wind kiss your lips

I love you
But that is not and will not be
The words that will come forth from our lips
We know each other too well for that

There is a festival going on in the town
They're burning marshmellow in the bonfire
"And a body too," the wind whispered

You came to me that night with your edges melting and the thick smell of smoke

You said you're ashes now and you complement me

I wish I could hug you
That night when you're covered with ashes
But I did not allow my self
Because I, myself are dusted with glass

So we laced our hands together
Despite the blood and grime
Pain and Loneliness
What a beautifully wretched pair

Once we cried together
Wreathed by the ray of sunlight
Too bright for us to withstand
So we wipe each other tears

"Together", we said to each other
Tangling and knotting our hands together
Kissing each other temples while blood drips down
Falling together from the sky
Another character poem, the what if of once upon a dream.
Nabs Dec 2015
By : Nabs

I was running away looking for a solace
When we collided
As though two meteors, out of their orbit
Crashes together creating a loud bang

Creating galaxies in our wake

You lit me up like a spark
Like I was firecrackers
And it would be to your delight
To see me explode in the night

We often clash and crash
As often as the wave crashes to the shore
But somehow i do not mind
You always soothe me at the end, after all

"An anchor", you confessed to me one day
To the silent question hovering between us
About what we are to each other
I almost replied that you were mine too

We are an anchor to each other
So this bruised ship of ours
Can still land on the shore
To be able to come back, even if only to each other

To not be lost they said
But I found that we are still lost
Lost in each other orbit
In each other oceans

I found, sometimes that i do not mind

We have faith in different things
A set of beliefs
But then again
Our foundation are made from the meshing off our jagged ends

A beautiful mosaics of broken pieces of two souls trying to balance each other

We are sowing seeds
While people slapping labels
Foolish and wrong
As if what we had is something for their consumption

It is supposed to be a glorious thing
Growing something
To see it bloom into something marvelous
Maybe thinking that the pest will always be pest is what doomed us after all

We tried to nurture it
To care for it
To prune it
But at the end it still withers in our hand

But not because of the lack of trying
Never because the lack of trying
You and me
we were cursed

With head as hard as rocks
Walls as high as the mountains
Heart broken in so many place
Trying to keep our heads high in this sinking ship of ours

It was a wonder we managed to collide in the first place

We bound ourself to each other
Maybe that was
What made us broke apart in the end
We never like to be tied down

But even though all things have to end
I am foolish enough to admit
That I, in my deepest heart
Wish for this to last

But alas, a wish is called a wish
Because it is something not to be true

I would like for us to keep colliding
To keep crashing through each other orbit
As if we are made to clash with each other
To keep pulling and pushing

Pulling and pushing

We're collateral damage
You and I
We know it deep into our bones
A myriad of explosions waiting to make another galaxies, another constallations

But fear always make the heart goes weary

I do not want it, this feeling
It came in sneaking
Like it knows it should not have been able to be in
But there is cracks in this fortress of mine

You tried to helped me
You tried so hard to help me
But there is pride in my soul
And my contempt grew out of the adoration that is slowly being corrupted away

I adore you
But I never could say it
There is always tension clogging between us
Maybe that is why we always bring knives

You know me
You know me better than I know my self
I know the taste of fear
It is a bitter pill that I keep swallowing everyday

The pill taste a bit sweeter around you

You made me fond of you
I never expected that
You become my solace
And yet i am too used to running

Maybe my save haven could only be found if i keep running

I keep building my walls up
There is a knocking sound
Persistent
But nothing can not be wore down by time

Even asteroids become corroded by time

Even stars will be killed by time

You and me?
We're a fool if we think we could have fought against time

There was one time when you told me
That I made you feel alive

You make me feel alive too,

So alive that i feel like every single nerve inside of me will burst just by looking at you

We were a two matches
Lighting each other up
Just to see it burns out
With all that was left were only ashes

How do one stop building walls?
How do one stop from falling?
How do you stop the barrage of feelings?

How do you stop from dying?

There is always a knife between us
Where we are tied with red strings
Perhaps it is red because it is a warning
A warning made by blood

Perhaps

Maybe

I woke up with bloods on my hand
We passed each other today
There's a different sort of magnetic field resonating around us
More chaotic yet more distant, more repelling
I swallow another bitter pill, keeping my heads up

Is this what love feels like?

Maybe
It is better like this
With bitter pills in my hands
To keep me from remembering

How you and I were made for destructions
Hope you enjoy this
Tree Jul 2015
Life without her is like life without the sky, 70% of what it could be. Those were the first words i heard of her and they've never left me since.
She could make anything and anyone sound enticing; she does make everything and everyone sound enticing. She makes me complete; she makes me a poet. Maybe it's because she's so poetic simply by the way she is. The way her words flow out of her so effortlessly; the way she'll pick up and leave at a moments notice if it means an adventure with one of her many human infatuations; the look she gives when her words aren't enough to show her affections; the way she gives me that look with those cherry eyes of hers. The way she looks when i speak of those cherry eyes cause the meaning of that description still baffles her to this day; how she doesn't know the way her eye lashes curl up and flare out, more than ever in those moments; how's there's a sparkle in her eyes she'll never see because it only comes out when she gives that look, a look im sad to think she'd never give her self. She'll never see herself. She sees energies and dynamics and persons and places and sometimes it's through a lense of grey, but her view is spectacular unlike any other; this is why when im with her i get caught up in the moment, nothing but what matters matters. I share a glimpse of that view just for a while; it's like driving when the sun is setting and finally coming to an open field with the perfect view. But the view of her is better. I don't want to experience anything new but with her; each and every abandoned house, nights of wasting a full tank of gas, adventures on bus rides to unplanned places, all the seasons and random trips without reasons.
We first met in summer, sometime in june. The days were sweet and we'd only fall asleep to our tune. Now fall will come and as the wind will carry away our bad thoughts we'll only be left with the good ones that we'll leave on the pages of our notebooks we found together. I know we'll carry on until winter, drinking our coffee to keep us warm after cold sleepless nights because i wasn't there to be her blanket and she wasn't there to block everything out of my mind. Then spring will be next, our last new season together. When the cherries blossom and you'll still wreck the car before you hit that possum and ill never want those cherry eyes to end watching those morning skies with me. And when those cherry eyes can't see the colors of those cherry skies ill show you its colors through a not so poetic description, hoping that in your world of grey i can accurately portray the beauty of its rays because my eyes are the same color as your view and my soul wants to share any part it can with you.
Too much comes to mind when i think of you it's hard to put it in writing. You're poetic enough for the two of us

— The End —