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A M Ryder Aug 9
Hours of childhood
Impatient, with nothing but
Playing by ourselves
Enchanted with
what alone endures

Between world and toy
A point which shows a child
Who they really are

Who sets in constellations
And puts distance
In his death
c May 30
I am impatient with information
I flip to the back of a book
To preview the ending
I don’t like surprises
I read the plot for a movie
Before I ever see it
Just so I always know
Exactly what comes next
You cannot read people like a book
And there’s no plot guide
For relationships
But I always try to spot the end
Before it’s near
Arisa Mar 3
I missed the bus seconds after the last passenger boarded.

Now I sit here alone,
Waiting for another vessel
To drag me to my destination.

The air is cold,
And my heart is still thumping away
Due to physical exertion to reach the thing I missed -
But like everything else,
My hopes,
My dreams,
They're too far to reach.

I don't know how to end this
But mention the tiny speckle of headlights
And the roar of the large vehicle in the distance.
So now I think:
'There's always another bus.'
One of my meh poems.
Maddie M Jan 2
i wish i was a flower

a dead one

so I can grow again

rise from the ashes

and bloom, when the time is right
tallene Nov 2018
lost in this world created on a screen,
I can't even see things that really matter to me,
I miss the rawness of your voice,
the pen to the paper,
now we have an abundance of choice.
I can type without looking,
I can manage five tabs while ordering food,
--whats cooking?
everything is so instant.
we are the impatient,
the damaged,
and the distant.
adaptation creates us to be dynamic,
but I can't seem to not panic.
you are high and dry,
but you're glorified.
you keep staring at your phone
I am just begging to know
why
Kewayne Wadley Mar 2018
I've never been very good at listening.
I imagine that I resonate with a piece of you that reminds me of the same piece of me.
When I come face to face with this piece.
I realize that not everything can be changed.
That's what makes it important.
Otherwise the urge to speak would never come.
Realizing this occurrence,
It becomes familar.
Not once does fear strike.
All in all there's no interruption.
The well being of ourselves.
The very things that no matter what, we tend to recognize.
No matter the grief.
And like that very thing I become a child.
Not realizing the meaning of being alive.
Within these moments I turn to you for guidance.
I look up and realize a stubbornness.

I admit.
I've never been good at listening.
Although I vocalize the feeling.
We go through extreme measures when the appearance isn't quite right.
In light of innocence I am struck time and time again.
The lashings of what I'll always believe.
It becomes excessive.
Coming into contact with this same piece of me that I have found in you.
That no matter the argument.
We understand that there is an accord that cannot be ignored.
We live in a state where this paradox becomes conscious.
Separating what is right, as well as wrong.
At times we may disagree, proving in these times that it takes growth to be heard.
And I have heard you this whole time.
This piece of me that has fallen in love with every piece of you.
Both stubborn and impatient
ashley lingy Jan 2018
Today I beg for the sunset,
and for stars to be revealed.

Yet I will not be satisfied.

Tonight, when I see their lovely shimmer,
I will yearn for the sunrise.
Lou Dec 2017
If I had two better hands
I'd write out a list of all my plans
But one of them would be crossed out in a red inked pen
Two words that do nothing but weaken my message
How useful is atonement if it doesn't make amends?

It could be my clown teared eyes
Or the masquerade I use to hide
All my riddles and blues are part of a balancing act
I can juggle while I'm crying and say two offense
I must look like such a fool in my angst performance.

But when you speak to me
I slip into a dream like trance
Where poetry makes love to me
And two words are never at the end of every sentence
But you're not the type to let this go
I can feel it when we hold hands
It's so simple to be regretful
But harder to forget.

I know two words
And That's all I ever say
Time is a glass house mime with silent parties within
I bang on every door screaming, "Let me in",
She comes over to the window just to shake her head.

I could change like a fantasy
Pretend I'm a Jester singing to a Queen
Pulling out a veil of blue and green
Charm her with my comedy and ****** her with magic
If I could pull out more words from my sleeve
I would lead with a compliment instead of plead apologetic
Two words are like a hook and I'm caught on them again.

Wallflowers bloom brightest in the cold
I could be picked if I didn't try and control
I know you need peace
And I just need it to snow
Freeze my words and wait for Springs' thaw
I'll wait for you to come and pick a bouquet
I'll look lovely in your window
If I can just stay frozen.

I promise to be more patient
Hold my tongue and count back from three
On my list I'll take two words
And cross them out of my vocabulary
It must not mean that much coming from me
But I got a list of plans
You and I will just have to wait to believe.
I gotta stop saying, "I'm sorry". I gotta do better to change my words. I'm struggling to show you I can give you time. I just needed to prove it to myself.
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