I'd do anything to take up space in her notebook. Almost anything. Close to anything. Most positively not that, but close to that. A wobbly fall or ignoring a crowd of people. walking through a double door you’d normally have no problem walking though. Most definitely the kind of mistake that leaves you paralyzed. Unable to move, taste, or breathe freely. Paralyzed & left between the pages she comes back & visits often. Pages I have to relive every time I see her face. If she turns her notebook sideways the blue lines become a jail cell. If she turns her notebook long ways the blue lines become a pair of blinds & I fall. Shifting through the pages until I hit the bottom. I'd do anything to take up space in her notebook. Almost anything. Close to anything. Most positively not that, but close to that. Unless she adds caution tape to the elevator shaft Of the next skyscraper she draws. Or maybe I'll just take the stairs
How to stop My thoughts from running To you From painting Phantom pictures Of soft touches Warm words Festive times Spent together In each other's arms Where only happiness Can be found And the safety You provide When everything feels scary And I feel wary Of every choice I make You feel right How to stop My hands from shaking My blood from boiling My thoughts from wandering To your face, your smile, your embrace To your scarred hands Caressing me As I tremble How to stop My mind from pretending You didn't take your knife Of self-centered crap Of idealization of my body As if I'm nothing else Than my body My ******* My *** And stop myself from forgetting How the wheels always turn And come back to the same Unique Mistake How to stop justifying Your actions As to not Lose you While I Lose myself
To the lush daisy gardens, I go The farthest place from you that I know My freedom was what I chose Shortly after, your heart froze My fault for not giving you a clearer sign But all my displays to you were benign So, alone I searched for the beams of my mind But its collapsed architecture was all I could find Immense guilt because of a simple truth The sense of our doomed future I ignored in my youth But life and love are meant to be lived Freed my sense to be gone with the wind My annoyance and displeasure would spew Every waking second and whenever you'd call Because long before you ever boarded, I knew That we wouldn't make it anywhere at all
Essentially a part 2/outro to another poem about a certain relationship experience I had- I guess it's simply the "aftermath".
as years passed by, the moon had fallen out of love the light of the sun was so bright that the moon told itself that it could never reach it to cradle the sun in its cold palms that their fingertips will never meet and the sun's light had gotten dimmer in the moon's eyes until the raging fire that the moon had once felt for the sun shrunk, diminished had put itself out but the sun felt the ignition a spark deep within its core like a single match thrown into a city doused in gasoline burning bright and powerful eating away at the very walls of the universe and without even knowing had fallen in love with the moon.
I fit most comfortably in your hand Yet you drop me & bounce me around. When I fall I have every intention of landing back in your hand But when I bounce back up I fly in every direction Except there. I bounce & I bounce Until I have no choice But to lay motionless on the ground. Still full of life Still full of excitement. Until you decide you'd like to play with me again. I fit most comfortably in your hand Yet you drop me & never pick me back up
i remember all the dates, of when i starting liking you, when i loved you, when i was in love with you, the day you kissed me, the day you grabbed my hand, the day you surprised me
i guess i should start to remember the days i fell out of love, the days i wished youd kiss me and you didnt, the days all i needed was your hand and mine and you refused, the weeks you couldnt spare a moment of your time for me
i am not sure the love will fade, but i know it no longer envelopes me, you no longer make me feel safe, wanted, and cared for
how could i continue to be in love with you when i am not even sure you care about me, or want to talk to me, you make no effort for me
i guess there is no problem staying after falling out of love, as you were never in love anyway
not the shoebox of purple hyacinths watered by the i love you's i still wanted to say.
not the prose poetries i wrote you whilst caught in a mania in the restrooms of dying gas stations.
not the caving in of the see-through walls mixed with static humming of the payphone calls.
not the pillow telegrams that smell like bourbon and my mother's cigarettes; darling, my bed has become a post office of the letters i never had the chance to write and of the things i never had the chance to say.
and nothing i say will bring you back — not even this poem, and i know that now; i just don't know how to live with that.
still, nothing will ever bring you back and darling, watching you fall out of love feels like the only thing i can do right now.
cigarettes still taste a little like our last kiss — like it's 5 am again and we were stuck in rusty rooftops, waiting for the break of dawn, or for the other to initiate the kiss. that being said, i always wished that 5 am's lasted longer, and that cigarettes burned longer, and that we kissed longer. but before we knew it, the sun had risen and there we were, ashing our cigarettes on the floor, kissing our last kiss. but here i am, darling — yours for the breaking; my cigarettes, yours for the taking — so kiss me again. break me again. leave me again.
say goodbye to me, darling. say goodbye, just once again.