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Z 1d
A vivid evocation
A memory of form
A mutual ovation
The calm and then the storm
Steel yourself for the inevitable surprise
New ties knotting round your neck till you choke
Go for broken hearted again
Go for finished unstarted again
Fall in love for the feeling of falling from infinite heights
The rush of death grabbing at your clothes like a desperate lover trying to take you in.
The air wrapping round your limbs
For a moment you are
Frozen in a fantasy:
A collage of red eyes and tendrils of smoke, the smell of fresh rain, resonating harmonies, the fretting curl of a tongue around a barbed remark, and now this-
Shit shirts and shadows
This feels like remembering a dream when you fall out of sleep
Chasing through fog
Stumbling through memories of feeling like I wasn’t worth your time
That all I could aspire to was sunflower following you
Turning east to west
But feeling rooted to the spot
All tongue and talent lost
In the shadow of your apathy.
This feels less like fate
And more like I’m butterfly-catching
Sticking pins through anything beautiful
Trying to understand what makes it soar unaided for so long
And killing it in the process.
Other times, I am the butterfly,
Catching light until I’m trapped
My affection becomes a museum for you
To bring your children into, someday.
Because nothing can stop my descent
I am not iridescent to all of you
And maybe I know that
Maybe that’s why I choose you
The safety of a glass window to hide behind
And the familiar crunch and snap of bones As I hit the rocks beneath.
This is a poem about that feeling when you meet someone and just think '...fuck.' because you know you're gonna fall HARD for them, and whether they reciprocate your feelings or not, it's just not gonna go anywhere. The second half of the poem in particular hearkens back to a particularly teenage feeling of idolising someone who just doesn't seem to notice your value- hence 'all tongue and talent lost'.
Anya 7d
The air is thick with tension
Limpid red rimmed eyes, ready
for waterworks at a moment’s notice
Hands repeatedly
Clenching and unclenching
Feet drumming
Lips pursed, turning white
Stomach clenched
Wound up
Like a spring
Permeating sense of foreboding
As the teacher hands out our history test
Anya Sep 14
The acrid, rather salty aroma surrounds
me, cloud of it invading my nostrils and tongue as the salty
liquid drips past my parched, cracked, lightly parted
lips as my throat is made hoarse by screaming
with all my might as we score the winning
Look for the cracks in portraits of innocence,
the absent shards
splintered amongst the gloss.
If only I'd heard the discord,
the cacophony of pragmatic exploitation.

Your deviations from the truth would be easier
if you choked me before cutting the noose.

Alchemic contortions of affection;
they never bore me.
Such grandiosity
from unenigmatic complexity
should never have perplexed me.

I was blind to the periphery
when you painted the horizon
so quintessentially
replacing the idle
with an idol,
but you always stood to fall.
Caleb Hess Sep 11
In a coma induced by your dark heart. Blind to the evils and red lights. I feel alive in my dreams where your touch awakens me when in reality your touch pushes me deeper into the abyss. A microphone wraps me in it’s love. I express myself and feel at home with you and then feel cold and empty after I’ve poured my heart out to you. Hold my heart in your morphine covered hands. You’re the killer wasp of my honeycomb soul, aggressively protect me from outsiders so that I can never see any other light. Imagining a place where love is freedom and being alone is locks and chains yet reality is holding me back from this. Deep in my head, happiness is a passing train. Depression is always there, sadness hidden in plain sight, anger breaks me into pieces and leaves me black and blue. I lie in the dark in agonizing pain throwing bottled SOS messages into a river of blood. Me, myself and I have a lot in common. Only us to understand each other as others try to decipher our thoughts.
Love can be toxic.
Rowan Sep 11
Fingers moving, spinning an eerie dangling tale
Rising and falling, stroke by stroke
Gleaming castle towers to decrepit dungeons
Rich, sumptuous royalty coated in silver starling laughing amongst themselves
Threadbare, holed, dulled eyes staring out beneath a thatched roof
Voices calling out in anger, fear, and loneliness
Wanting to be heard, to be seen by those in gilded gold crowns
Faster now, heartbeat racing across a shoreline
Waves crashing down, breaking on the rocks
Whitewater rapids burst through a hollowed cavern
Lost faces, bent minds, warped bodies
Strung out in a single note
Dancing in the gentle moonlight
Hand on hand, twirling to the beat of the bird's twitter
Slowly falling in love, and the sorrow of knowing it's ephemeral
Grasping at strings being cut with a crude iron knife
Empty eyes, sinking in despair under the calming storm
Nights of blood and days of woebegone
Years of lingering in the shadows
Forgotten smiles, and nostalgic memories
Imbued in a mellifluous melody
Joyous delight of a child
The summery silence of a violet sunset
Laying with a loved one, hearts intertwined
Sweet stories, happy ever afters
Sung out in the ascending vocals
Gone, world's faded to black and white
Melancholy of what used to be
Murky gloom, painted in tears fallen
Plucking away, living in the moment of flying hands on a bow
Sucked into a spiraling forest of lyrical dreams
High seas and low tides
Wind whipping through the smoke saturated air
Bodies broken fall as autumnal leaves
Winter seizes with an icy grasp
Gleaming and glimmering against a deathly drop down to the snow ridden plains
Gossamer webs of cracks in a sea colored glacier
Breaking apart to reveal green grass in violent shades
And vines creeping, choking tendrils fighting, struggling
And when the silence ensues, the music put away for the time
She plays the soul sound again, telling an epic, a saga of heartbreak, and healing
A poem about the seasons in intricate detailing, written to show the world
That broken bodies and minds can create ethereal and ineffable legends
Sarah Sep 10
Fairy tales have always had an antagonist;
an evil witch or vengeful pirate,
plotting against the beloved hero,
but not all stories are realistic.
There are villains out to get you,
but they can be a lot closer than a broom ride away.
The ones glaring with glowing eyes from the shadows emerge
and you recognize that reflection.

Sometimes the one preventing you from completing a task,
celebrating a victory,
or capturing the damsel.
Is because the distress is yours
and the hand locking it away can be your own twisting the key.
Written 09/10/2018
How are we allowed to grow
When our silences are spread thin,
Our cheeks forever touched
By strangers on trains.
When our eyes are glued to
The girl crying in the bathroom,
And a child following
His mother carefully along the crowded street.

How are we allowed to grow
With the shouts from parties next door
Break down the bedroom walls,
When that boy who you used to be friends with
Walked down the other side of the street
And you hope he doesn’t see you,
When the man starts yelling obscenities
From the corner of the park
And you want to believe his words.

How are we allowed to grow
With all of the pain,
With our brief glimpses of joy,
With our arms outstretched for a better future,
With our minds stunted in the past.

How are we supposed to grow
When our very bones are torn apart
By questions we can never answer.
Serena M Sep 6
this is the calm before the storm
the quiet place by the shore,
where you lay down the corpse of your sweet remorse

this is the clap of thunder
the thing that pulls us under
where you lie awake
and wonder how it all got
so loud

this is the crashing of the waves
ominous, crisp echoes in our caves
where we learn to be brave
the sky fell above us
it just could not behave
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