Why do you choose
Which finger you’d like to hold
When you can have my whole hand
You crumbled like a corpse underneath the facade of fresh rose petals,
Lavender pressed finger prints,
Like warm blood on cool cracked lips,
You are not in love,
But you are on it,
Like a drug that must be snorted,
Too sour to be swallowed,
And too hot to be inhaled,
Too good to be real,
And too much like a dream to be held.
medjed 1d
How much effort
    did it take to
    push us unwillingly
    together
And yet none
    of that energy
    was ever given
To even teach us
    how to hold on
    willingly
    to each other
been inactive for quite a while and i think i've been getting rusty sorry :( hi!
Manny 4d
I don't think that I could taste another's lips
without comparing them to yours
Inhale their breath into my lungs
Breathe their scent in through my pores

I don't think that I could touch their skin
Or run my fingers through their hair
Can't get lost within their gaze
With your presence always there

And I can still hear your voice
Fingers still feel your skin within their tips
You dared say you loved me
with his spit smeared on your lips

How could you say I was the only one
After everything you've done
I'm surprised the words rolled out
while his taste held down your tongue
New Poem
I didn't know
How to begin again
So I tried
With the only way
I know how..


..By holding your hand
June 25
death is a tiny girl in pink —
with yellow hair
                          and stick legs -

coming out at twilight , she
knocks
on your door with her claws in a fist
                                and
smiles wide at you
from the
dark.
          .
            .

a wolf in sheeps hide ,
but
she is only
a
sheep
          (not even)

and
she wants to hold your hand .
.
I’ve been playing a lot of love Nikki recently which helped develop this but it was really inspired by another poem I read where they described death as a little girl who listens to the world from underneath the ground
fs yousaf Jul 13
I ask myself
If I am meant for
All the twists and turns of life,
But those certain, detailed twists and turns
Are meant for me and only me.
I am destined to be here,
To belong to the ground I walk on,
And to the people who hold me close.

I am made to live,
I am made to breathe,
I am made to be curious,
I am made to happy.
positivity
Late - ly
I can feel the i - tch, I know:
It's preposterous.

Wh - y is it, that I
never can de - cide
who it is I am, with
con - fi - dence?

Modern tools aside,
I still take the r - ide
taken near distantly by
my an - ces - tors.

Late - ly
I can feel the i - tch, I know!
It's preposterous.

Now, kids, please listen
as you read my voice
how you like. How you like.
I thought I would die by
the time I was twenty five
at fifteen -- but look at me.
Now, kids, I'm touching
twenty nine with a cer -
tain newfound confidence.
I survived the prescription pills,
the gender redefinition, as well
as the hormone therapy, and I
want to tell you that I,
believe in you. I believe in you.

Cel - ebrate all of your pain
at your whim and as you live,
well, the pain will become
your friend and your impetus.

Lately, I can feel the itch.
I know it's preposterous,
but I must continue to
explore and change
unless I aspire to
placidity, and I
don't-- in fact
I never will.
Once more, kids, with confidence.
Misfits, hold out, survive.
You're important.

<3
sara Jul 8
I don't have the time of day
to beg for pardon 'til you stay,
to get down on my knees and pray;
for it to rain, just all the same.

I don't have the trust in you.
You choose comfort, I choose new.
You'll hear it once, you swear it true:
the sky rains black; you're sure it's blue.

It's just like paint, a blood-red heart,
a colour sample on a chart;
I'll build an abstract sculpture, craft
it carefully and call it art.

Then, I'll sell all that I create
and save enough to walk away,
whilst you're left dripping wet with rain.
Whatever made you think I'd wait?
Sorry, but why do people leave then try to come back into your life as if time froze when they left ¿¿¿¿¿
cait-cait Jul 4
i.

ill snap the necks of everyone
you love
like little birds
outside a
nest

ii.

god held my hands as he plucked
from the sky ,
and told me i was no longer
an angel .
.

iii.

i pop pink pills from pink
bottles , and
set things on fire.

you dont look me in the eyes
anymore ,
even though i smile.
im trying to experiment with different styles. This was inspired by the feeling of loving someone better than you and being angry about it and the video game little inferno.
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