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Sara Kellie Jul 24
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 ****.
Poetic T Feb 16
She was the noose that
       I'd hang myself from,
I would put the snare of
        her heart around my throat.

Her words would caress my
       windpipe strangling
me with loves whispers,
              suffocating me gently.

But words were hard to speak
        when she was collecting tightly
around my breath.
I couldn't be with her as I was suffocating,
                                 my actions she hung me from.
Enzo Jan 29
Obsession for someone who's in another's possession,
Craving for love, touch and affection in the shadows of her reflections
Catching the trails of her breath she left on the wind along with her scent

Distractions could never falter my obsession for you, just as he could never stop loving you and you keeping him in your heart

But even so, I love you. I love you. I love you. I crave for you. I need you. I love you. I want you. I love you. I love you.

Silently, you're tearing me apart. I look at you with awe, listen with glee, and talk with my heart on my sleeve.

You're killing me, relentlessly obsessing over you at the same time containing myself. I badly love you and I guess thats the end of it
wehttam Nov 2016
How much for breakfast,
coffee chocolate and vanilla
Ella, el, el LA.  
One right, 2 the nose and back across
My belly, Elly, Ella, el la.  


The phone, pho' phourdy eighth street
San Diego, 8:51, vah nella, naps on my bed
Chocolate prefers then under the sink

Coffeenchocolate vanilla
El, ella, el LA.
8:40-8:48 am Friday the 18th 2016, November.
Bre Dec 2015
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.”
mk Jun 2015
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
// missed chances & past romances //
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.
So far the ground appeared
never thought I would see again.  
World seems so much nicer
from afar.

All it took was one sparkle
from one star.  
Clouds swept through
and through--
a transparent bloodstream
casting me into delirium,
dancing the sky

But flight isn't my course,
I cline with
the wind's will
and wisp.  

This descent
all too familiar.  
I will not return to
what grips me down,
that which grips us all.  

Let this coming clenching
have but one final victim:
My breath.
Allow my exhale
to rise in its departure
so it may stay
lost in the cloud,
a haven I forever seek.
Initial draft.
Jack Thompson Mar 2015
I've awoken now.
Quite down little birds.
My mind muddied and blurred.
Where am I now and how..
Did I get here?
Rusty, still turning on like that old junker that'd never start first time.
Memories mysty drips and drabs of last night.
Unshaven from days ago.
Dirt and blood laced aftershave.
Was it one night or a week, maybe they blended together.
The nights are the worst they always bring the day.
Recoil finding myself all over again.
It's Thursday.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
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