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Not Lauren Dec 2016
Love comes in like the hustle and bustle of the busy New York streets in the A.M.
(It got lost in the shuffle)

Love comes in swiftly and decisively because there is no time to waste in Los Angeles.
(Sorry it's a little late)

Love comes in as soon as the tides on the beaches of New Orleans recede back to their origins
(Don't get swept away)

Love comes in just as loud and equally as soft as a thunder cloud laying above Memphis.
(No need to fear)

Love comes in and slips away as quickly as it arrived from its final destination:
The Heart

Love came in and love left. It was always a traveler and could never stick around too long before yearning for a new city.
Inspired by relationships of 2016.
JH Jul 2016
Nothing is wrong.
but you act like
it’s something that we should talk about;
I have to tell you that
this is not true.
I am perfectly fine.
I smile and say,
“What will happen will happen,”
because that’s the way life works.
There is pain
but that ends quickly.

As I look at the mirror, I feel awful;
I fear not being with you.
These nightmares are the reason
there shouldn’t be anything to be afraid of.
It is never true that
handling these well of emotion is difficult.
I have always found that
it is easy to be calm,
I hate when you tell me
I am not the same anymore.

(now read from bottom to top)
stains Dec 2015
“The sun died every night
just to let the moon breathe.”

I shivered, as whispered screams and silent pain of fragmented hearts
Pierced through the atmosphere of comfortable lies and prison bars
Looking down upon streets filled with hushed crying in locked cars
******* the words “I’ve been left” in my palm filled with glass shards
I am looking at the moon, and I am reminded that there is still someone
That touches my soul and feeds me emotions when I thought I had none
I am looking at the moon.

It is 2:58 am and I am writing this to expel your fingerprints from my body
Because your being has covered my skin with memories of love and beauty
The dead beating of my heart cannot forget how it felt when you came near
How the mere mention of your name caused my eyes to only see you clear
I am looking at the moon, with its silver skin, gleaming light and mesmerizing craters
And I am reminded of what we were, how we were beautifully imperfect chapters
I am looking at the moon, again.

It is 3:15 am and I am still trying to forget how a love so beautiful can crumble
My heart’s still pumping blood that seems to heat when your image tumbles
We were something real; *we were lost fingertips that found home in each other’s palms

But time was too weak to grasp a love so soft, a love that resembles seas that were calm
You were the moon and I was an ocean, and I willingly let you pull at my veins
Causing a tidal wave of memories and unspoken words that left me insane
I am looking at the moon, still.

It is 3:41 am and I am still thinking about your hands and how they held an atlas
How you memorized maps of my surface and how beautiful things don’t really last
We were something beautiful and true and something that was bound to break
Our love was a forest of mixed rose bushes and thorns that time wanted to take
But don’t worry about me, the moon still listens, its light still glistens on my scars
And I can close my eyes knowing that *you and I still cry under the same moon.

So I will look at the moon, for as long as needed,
until your hands
aren’t my home
**anymore.
i'm still trying to forget you and i'm sorry i still love you
- t.p.
rs Jul 2015
there's still blood on the floor

and my heart is still broken
rs Jul 2015
-
the biggest mistake i have ever made is not trusting someone when i should have- because maybe when i would have trusted someone, i wouldn't be like this; sad and alone.
rs Jul 2015
.
the smaller things mean the most.
dumbdeadpoet May 2015
I am so sick of holding on to things that have no grip that slip out of my fingertips like dust like when you told me your back doesn't bend sideways and you swore my hands were your favorite thing. and I believed you. because you have a way of saying things that seem like they will last forever but they always end up fading away like your whispers .. or your touch. and you swore to me that my voice was the only thing that kept you apart when your spine was the only thing holding you together you should've told me you felt like snapping like twigs in a forest dry and brittle because they have nothing holding on to them giving them life and baby you should've never told me that you are dead. that you've been dead for years now and you've given me a piece of you to hold on to baby you should've told me you are a ghost.
RH Feb 2015
His lips are clean
Of coffee breath
And cigarettes

His hands are clean
From holding hands
And one night stands.

His shoes are clean
Of ***** stains
From liquor chains.

Yet his tongue,
Indulged in lies
Promises turned into goodbyes.

His mind is a clutter
His lips have uttered
Names of girls who do not matter.
AB //STAIN// ED. Get it? No matter how clean the boy in the poem may appear to be, he still has something that stains him. I don't know. It's 12;30AM, I need sleep.
... is when you're deliriously tired, your eyelids heavy and hanging over your orbs like curtains containing the summertime heat.

... is when you've just met the one who lights your skin on fire with a single kiss and fills you with life unlike any other.

... is when you've finished your last drink and you're sitting alone in your bed wondering where your life will turn next.

... is when you're standing in the shower and all of the thoughts of the day come rushing to your brain like the heat of the water on your back.

... is when you feel you have nothing to say, and even your bones are hollow.
n.v.
jan. 27, 2014
♡ ☥ ☽ ☯ ☾ ☥ ♡
angela Dec 2014
we've all waited for something
or even someone at one point of our lives
there are a few kinds of waiting
we've all gone through

the wait we go through
while waiting for a bus, a train,
or even for the cake in the oven
to be done ,
for your favourite tv series,
for your best friend's birthday,
or your anniversary with your loved one
this is the kind of wait where we know
what we're waiting for will come to us
pain won't exist in the process of this wait
because we are sure that the wait will be over
sooner or later
dates of the days we marked down
on the calendar or
times of the days we set a reminder for
in our phones
they are constant and there forever

there's another kind of waiting
that we all have gone through too
at some parts of our lives
the kind of wait we go through while
waiting for our lives to get better,
or waiting for our loved ones
while they are fighting for
their lives in the emergency room,
or for the one you love who
left you a long time ago
to come back,
or for a second chance
this is the kind of wait
where no one knows when
will the waiting ever end
the kind of wait where it
might not even have an end
going through this breaks your heart
day by day
you start to question and wonder
when will this end?
will this even end?
even though not knowing of how
things might come to an end
we still wait like this because of
the hope we are still hanging onto,
holding onto for our lives because
if we were to ever let go,
we'd fall down and usually
the fall hurts

but what if,
what if the first kind of wait
turned into the second one?
what if,
your best friend never
makes it to her birthday
because all this time she
stayed up late was to
fight away her demons that
won her in the end
what if,
your anniversary no longer exists
because you found that
all the texts that read
"not coming home for dinner,
pulling an all-nighter in
the office to finish the assignments"
actually meant
"not coming home for dinner,
staying over in her house to finish what
we didn't last night"
you realize that
all the "i love you's" you've
ever told them in the
form of messages
were being read by them
on someone else's bed
or being read by someone else
who eventually deleted the text
after reading it
what if,
what you've been waiting for
never comes even when you were
so sure that it would?

in the process of waiting
the minutes,
hours, days, years
we spent waiting for what
we thought we knew would come
can turn into
hours, days and years
of the longest wait
for what we thought
we would never lose
and the days we marked down
on our calendars,
the times we set a reminder for
on our phones,
will still be constant
because the earth will still spin
in the direction
it always had

everything may still look
the same as it always was but
little do we know,
everything is slowly changing
and when we look back
we will realize how different
things actually were

time is a disability,
that blinds us from reality
time is a thief,
that takes away what's precious to us
time is a murderer,
killing us with each second we've
spent on waiting.

-a.l.
wrote this quite awhile ago but, thought i'd upload it here haha idk why. kinda ***** though.
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