Crimsyy 5h

You are winter
and I always fall for you,
as Autumn does
when rain comes knocking
on its leaves
and soon Autumn and I
are lost in a breath of
fresh petrichor;
you are rain
and for some unknown reason,
I'm always begging you
to drench me, soak me.
You are a notebook,
often closed,
spine seemingly unbroken,
and I, a starving poet
ripping at every page of yours;
I hope you won't
fall apart with me.

I'll wake up earlier than usual and for a split second, I forget what happened 24 hours ago. It seems like a blur, like it didn't happen.

But I know it did.

And I can't change that.

So I'll throw on a checkered shirt and look at myself in the mirror as I put on my key necklace and rings, looking dangerous and ready to kill.

I wonder whether or not it's worth it to button up my shirt, but I seem to like the aesthetic of looking like I'm helpless. So I leave the shirt open to seem lazy too.

But I will roll up the sleeves. I'll always roll up the sleeves. Can't risk snagging the cuffs of a good, bad, decently fashionable looking shirt.

Pick out a complimentary hat and go.

Face the day why don't you?

Because I know I'll still end up crying eventually.

And I'd rather have those shirt cuffs in tact to wipe away the pain when I do.

I've never even had a drink. So let's get drunk on poetry...

This round's on me!
Sandoval 2d

I think the worst part of losing you, is never seeing you again.  For

us, there will never be any random unpredictable encounters.  

And the thought of not seeing you again,  even if its just far away,

lingers in my mind like an old book, waiting to be read.

We will never get a second chance, we are so far away, I guess

thats what you give up when you fall in love a thousand

miles away.

Sandoval

October.
Happiness settles in when October arrives.
When the cool lungs of fall envelope California,
and burnt crimson holds tight to bright pumpkin shades.

The autumn sunshine spills through these colors,
warm and inviting and familiar.
But even so, waking up to a sky of ash grey clouds that are
ready and eager to let their tears drip and kiss my face is a sort of bittersweet I can't help but adore.
Because after those kisses slide off my face and I breathe in,
I can smell the way the rain smells once it hits the asphalt,
The crisp, cool scent of sadness becoming something beautiful.

The way his lips leave a tinge on the tip of my tongue in October.
The anticipation and anxiety was sour; but the electricity on the pink of my own lips tasted like I can't explain.
I can imagine my own taste, if I try.
At first, you'll taste the strength of coffee and the bold smoke of cigarettes
Later tasting the lavender and sweet cream forever embedded upon the soft pink of my mouth.

October;
Where did you go?

Wyatt R 6d

Clench your hands around that lantern,
the way home is becoming harder to find.
Second guess how you got here,
you will steer yourself off course.
Darkness welcomes you in close
and it's jaws wrap around you.
Forget getting out when you fall in,
can't remember which way was right.
Soon enough there is nothing left
for the outsiders to recognize.

Swallowed whole.

Do we have to be
like dominos
where the beauty
is when we fall down?
Let me fall with you.

Collateral beauty. What now?
15/30

You had my wings when I fall. Now I can't lift myself up without you.
Yes,
I am an Angel
But
No
Not anymore.

That very moment when everything you think is enough to make you human, turned out to be your regret when you got your fear of losing someone and being alone.

No matter as much as I fall I will get up .

Kee Apr 12

I trip.
Stumble.
Crash.
I don't want to get up.
I don't want to remember how  hard it is to get back up.
I just want to fall and never get up.
Leave me be.
It's cold, yes, but I don't want to be warm.
It's too hard to feel that again.
I'm numb, yes, but I don't want to feel.
It hurts too much t do that again, and again, and again.
When I know...
I'll only fall.

Beau Scorgie Apr 7

Sunlight pirouettes
through a window.

Translucent zebras
dance upon the stage,
dance across
a little honey bee.

Petals of paper
weaving through
the day.
Like tiny footprints
to lead the way.

Lead a zebra,
lead a honey bee,
to a delicate daisy flower
where they might sit
in silence
or discuss
how peculiar it is
that a honey bee
just might fall
in love with a zebra.

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