Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
RazanSidErani Dec 2014
Look out the window.
Through the thick black glass,
I hope you look out properly.

Almost sincerely?

Turn away from the mirror and look out the window.

Listen to that noise ?

It's your conscious knocking.
The glass never breaks though,
You've ignored it for so long.
It fed off your insolence,
It ceased to be beaten down with love and humility,
And It ceased to be weak to them.

It fumed up sooty smoke,
like your temper and ignorance,
Clogging your view to reality.
It turned hiked just like your ego hype.
It made you blind and self centered,

Everything you promised you'd never be.

Only you could get rid of it.

Honestly, almost sincerely, will you?

Will you break it down and listen to the universe screaming.

Redemption, compassion, love and hope?
Forgiveness, repentance, patience and faith?

It'll scream you awake!
Strike you down from all your glory.
For everyone to see.
On your knees it'll make you repent.
It'll make you swallow your pride
and make you plow your heart out.
It'll pound on you till all that's left
On the ground is blood and ****** bones.
But in the end it'll make you whole again.
it'll purge you from explicits.
At the end, The Reckoning comes for all.
© RazanRinaldi
Jack Jenkins Jun 2016
A poem... to give you... is it enough?

As my heart yields to your wounds, you have given me five hundred scars to wear; I will gladly bear another five hundred for you! Is it enough?

I have snatched away five hundred stars from the firmament above, slaying five hundred angels who guarded their celestial light! Is it enough?

Would five hundred days make any difference to you? To set my heels in the clay and march forward step by step to you until you saw my perseverance, is it enough?

Five hundred souls you have sifted through to discover just how inadequate they are for you. I ask you: is it enough?

**My heart is yours... is it enough?
1 Corinthians 13:4-8
______________________
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails...
Peter Lyon Jun 2016
I hope you found someone
to wander with you down the dark alleys
away from the bright lights, the happy music
that play out on the concourse.

Someone who asks about the stains on the wall
that leak through from behind the doors
you don't mention to guests.

Someone who's more interested in how it works
than how it looks.

I hope you've found someone
who'll help you find beauty
in all the bits
you seem too ashamed
to look at.
Em May 2016
John. David. Issiah. Micheal. Andrew.  

Freshman year you were infatuated with him. You wanted to be whatever it was that he wanted: normal, attractive, popular, hot. You were willing to do anything to get his attention, yet it was never enough. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know what you could have given him. You were 15, young and full of hope. But you were never going to be what he wanted, and you knew that in your heart. You simply liked the way he made you feel in those few precious moments when his attention was focused on you. You loved him, maybe you still do. But you and I both know you'll never get to show him how much.

Sophomore year you found a distraction. You came to grips with the idea of never being his. At first getting involved with David didn't strike much enthusiasm, but as time went on he took up all of your time. You were so bitter towards him that you wasted precious time that could have been spent with him. You were too obsessed with a boy who was using you as a rebound, and couldn't realize that the time you had with John was slipping through your grasp. He left. He moved 1,493 miles away from you. He said he'd write, he said he'd call. You know now that he has forgotten all about you. Still I'm jealous of the people who flood his thoughts and get to simply enjoy his company. His energy was contagious. His smile was addicting. He promised he'd never forget but he did. It was devastating. Heartbreaking. So you used David as an even bigger distraction, until he too disappeared. And then once again, you were left alone.

At the start of junior year the depression got worse. Everything was hitting you all at once. It started to sink in that he was gone. You thought that one day everything would come together for the two of you, and suddenly he was just gone. Isaiah helped distract you a bit. He was always there to make you smile, but he wasn't John. Toward the end of the year someone new came along. Everything with him was so.. Easy. He made you laugh, made you feel wanted, made you feel worth something. He promised that "no matter what happened he'd always be there." It's ironic isn't it? How they can say words with such power and emotion like that and then leave. How promises mean so little. Michael never really explained it. One day he just woke up and "lost feelings". And once again all you could feel was worthless. He was wasting your time. He just wouldn't admit it.

Senior year was a wild one. Before it even started Issiag was admitting his "love" for you. He talked about going to school with you. Dating you. Growing old with you. Loving you. Making memories with you. When in reality I think he was using you to fill a spot that she couldn't. He'll always go back to her. Issiah and Lauren were meant for each other. You've known him for almost four years now and suddenly he just decided to disappear on you. You thought you were the best friends that he proclaimed you to be. You weren't all that he made you out to be. You were a distraction. A happy place. A drunk call. When Andrew came around saying all the right things it was refreshing. He sounded sincere. Then again, they all did. It felt right, it felt scary, it felt new. He seemed too good to be true, and he was. I'm sure part of me just wanted to believe him. Believe that I could be wanted in the capacity he proclaimed I was. He said all those things. "I love you", "I could never hurt you", "I want to have children with you", "let's buy a house", "hurting you would be hurting me". It wasn't what he said, every word he rolled  off of his lips effortlessly and without flaw. It's what he did. It's the moments when you weren't looking. The exhaustion and stress that set in because of the double life that he led. The guilt and pride which overcame his face. He thought he got away with it. I know the truth. I know what it was about for him. I know what he did. Even now, 7 months later he won't admit to it. But it's okay. I know. After he left all I could think about was John. He started the patterns of goodbye. All I could think about was what he would do if and when he found out what I had done. I felt worthless because now, more than ever, I knew I would never be what he deserved.

It's that unsaid goodbye. The one which comes like a thief in the dark of the night. There's no warning, no time for questions, no room for error. One day they are there and they love you and the next.. They're gone. The person you knew and were so fond of has disappeared into the night. I think that for a long time they're just working up the courage to tell you that you aren't what they want, but they don't know how because you're both already so invested in one another. So they cut it short, cut deep, cut to the point. You aren't what they wanted. You'll never be what they wanted. I think that's what ***** me up the most.

All of them made me feel worthless. They continued to send the message that I was never good enough for them, it wasn't until Andrew showed me that perhaps I was too good for all of them. I don't deserve to be a convince. I don't deserve to be an object. I don't deserve to be a drunk call. I don't deserve to be a distraction. I deserve to be so much more.

High school is more than just nouns and arithmetic. It's more than staying up all night to finish a paper or to read a book. The last four years have taught me so much more than just how to solve an quadratic equation or how to find the mass of a star. I've learned to dream wildly and love fearlessly. Life is scary. Love is a fine line. Walk across it slowly and with caution, but don't be afraid to fall. High school is about making connections that will last a lifetime. It's about memories. How people made you feel. It's been a rough, wild, long, sad, joyous four years filled with many many critical events. But it is four years that will never ever be forgotten.
Written 5.24.16

Something always brings me back to you, it never takes too long.
There's only one thing about this situation,
And it's that you don't like me
Like I
Like you.

I can see it in your eyes Hailee,
Or rather the fact that
I never
Catch them.

When I look at you, you don't look back,
Your eyes don't dilate and I doubt
That you
Feel warm.

I didn't think I could feel this much
Care. For another person again.

But Hailee, I felt it for you.
The warmth inside of my chest and gut,
My face and arms and torso diffusing
Adrenaline.

I care for you, you are an amazing individual,
And it's okay that you don't feel it back.

I'm not your type anyway.
Please don't let this affect us.
Insulting my  roommates in your presence is still one of my favorite pastimes.
Trevon Haywood Feb 2016
I'm sad and broke
Because I don't have any money with me today
And it's all my fault.
Maybe tomorrow will be better when i become rich again
As soon as the rain wash away all the pain of my life. And I'll be happy to see lots of girls again.

Anomynous. 2/3/2016.
Hannuh Jacey Jan 2016
You are the freshly aged petals on the page.

Pressed first up against a cheek or two and dried to last forever.

Transcending all stages of beauty and living long after withering.

Your soul extends beyond the softness in your texture - the sweet scent of all your cracking gestures.

You cannot change the closing of the day - the frosty creeks still rush to all your heart does say.

You have plucked the petals from your budding heart and we pick them up to keep as art, because your flailing is a performance.

Your movements are enticing, you sway to all desire, the sounds murmured by your coarse crying voice inspire.

The beauty is in your entire existence.
Jan 22nd, 2016
Anonymous Jan 2016
"I miss your love"
she said.

I used to write you poetry.
Last Christmas I made you a journal;
You loved that.

"Things are different. It's a really strange change, isn't it?"
I replied.

"Yeah they are different, you don't love me anymore."
"I miss your cuddles. And your laughter. "
"But mostly your love."

Your three texts remain unopened.
They've been haunting my phone screen
For the past hour now.
And that's how the unsaid things remain unsaid.
Next page