I wanna write about you. And I do. You drip off the end of my pen, Off the blinking line of my cursor, And fill up white space With the nebulousness of what you are to me; Your cumulonimbus formlessness. Enter. Pause. A moment of consideration. I am constantly unsure of what this all means. I love you. You’re bad for me. I might be bad for you in return. I want you. I don’t want anything and I burn for you, I write for you, I pine when I am a creature of pragmatism and action. You don’t want me the same in return, if you do at all. The absence of you is terrifying. The absence of you was a relief. With you I am elated. With you I feel as though you slowly pull my heart apart, As though you forcefeed me hope, For I am unable to do anything else but wish for— Change —when we are together, Though I know it is impossible, Unlikely enough to deserve the word. I can see the planes of your skin, feel Them beneath my fingers I can trace their lines with my mind’s Tongue. Wishing is pointless with you. I know this and still cry for the moon.
Promise me, my flesh you'll place 'neath a fledgling willow tree. And as it grows toward blue sky, It's in its grace you'll hear me cry. Laden with the heaviest fears, resembling, reflecting my darkest years.
A fragile bone was once my arm, so likened to the willows charm. It's branches delicate, could ne'er do harm. It's soft and fluffy hand like bud, encased in skin, the willow's wood.
Hold its hand at branches end. My message, a vibration, to you I'll send. Until the death of said willow tree, reminding you . . . . . . . . . . . always of me.
Poetry by Kaydee.
The tired and deathly willow tree with stories to tell of debutantes, swinging before entering ****.
I stand before you accused by some fool. You call me a witch, but I say you are foolish to agree. I but a simple girl I mean harm to no one. You demand I confess to my sins of witchcraft I'm firm when I look you the eye and tell you, “ I cannot”. I go three days and three nights with only water and some stale bread in the damp dark of the jail. I almost fear my hunger has made me mad when I see your face appear at my cell. Though am weak, I rise to greet your scornful face. Again, you demand I confess. You wish to make an example of me. Yet again I look you in the eye and reply; “ I cannot." You storm out in anger raving about how I shall hang, but I will not be tried for something I did not do. I will not ruin my name for the games of the fool. I stand at the gallows and you demand one last time my confession A single tear rolls down my face as I look to the crowd gathered to see my end. Standing tall, I whisper “I cannot.” s.s.
we’re all hung up on someone whether it’s your highschool sweetheart who now lives in Seattle, 4 hours away or the man who had a one night stand with when his wife was out of town whether it was your boss who you never had the guts to confess your love to or your ex-husband who ended up leaving you for a younger version we go through the motions we meet new people and every now and then, we even fall in love but at the end of it all we're still stuck in the past frozen to the memories glued to the 'what-ifs' and the 'maybes' we can’t help but want that one person we can’t help but wish you were him we can’t help but worry that he’ll never be ours we’re all hung up on someone *& I’m hung up on you
I'm going to tell you, a story of a girl. Her name douse not matter, she is lost to the world. She cried out with the rain. Everyone she talked to knew she was not the same. When they asked her, she said she was fine. But when they turned their backs, she cried all the time. Only one person knew, how bad she really was. She held the girl and cried with her. And said it was all rite. One day the girl could take no more. She had lost her fight. But her friend called to wish her good night. when she said she was fine, she hured how lost was her fight. The friend hured her friends voice that broke. Knew the girl had broken he faith. And rushed over a moment to late. The girl hung up the phone. She stud up on her chair. And saw the headlights racing up. But se had said her good byes and had enough. A moment to late her friend pushed open the gate. And ran up trying to save. She ran calling out her friends name. But inside she knew it was to late. As she opened up the door. Her hear broke she fell on the floor The girl hung her stereo playing her friends favorite song. She loved her dear friend, and never wished their friendship an end. But now her friend was gone She had hung their for long. At home her mother avoided her broken daughter. And her dad all but forgot her. She looked out at the moon. And felt like a ghost now. She played the dead friend her favorite song. And put the rope around her neck. She felt abandon, she felt broken. And to the pearly gates. He dead girl did make, and she meat her friend but it wasn't like it had bean. he friend wisent all the way dead So the girl told her o go back home and said she was whir she belonged to. That she only meant to do this to herself and that she never meant to make her friend hate herself So she closed her friends eyes and said her goodbyes she sent her back to continue her fight.