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Apollo Hayden Mar 2017
I was right behind that mountain,
now I'm just above its peak,
able to see things for what they truly are and not how I wanted them to be.
In hindsight the sun has shined its light on life's mysteries.
Out of the darkness we must rise; with resilience we will shine.
Before you I had no worries, I was happy and free, or at least I thought I was
In hindsight I was still a little boy running around and pretending I wasn't an adult because

If I stopped pretending it would mean I wasn't going to have fun anymore
But that all stopped when you walked through the door

When we met we clicked we understood each other perfectly
When we thought of our future if we'd always be together, certainly

When I was with you I was happy but in a different kind of way
I felt like an adult who had his whole life together, but with you I could still play

You kept me on track so my life wouldn't be wasted on parties and ****
But at the same time you made me think you were all that I would need

I didn't see it for what what we were, I saw a partnership
But when I was in a bad place you said you wouldn't stay on a sinking ship

You taught me that I'm valuable and shouldn't be tossed aside
But you taught me not everyone will stick with me for the ride

You taught me so much in our time together
Unfortunately one of those lessons was that we weren't forever

I opened up my heart for you like I never had before
Then you opened up your legs for him and left your ******* on his floor

You made me think I was the problem and the reason we would drown
But in reality, you were the captain, and your ship is going down
My friend Niko wrote this about lessons learned last year. It's true, what they say, the first cut is the deepest. I wish him well in his heart's recovery.

He's new to Hello Poetry, give him a follow - Nikolai Marzouka
DEW Aug 2016
Face first
into the pasty mud
too weak to crank myself up
too ashamed to continue hugging earth
but we all hug our mothers when we're hurting.

Finally risen from the pit
Face up, proud, and defying
I gave him my stony gaze
Face caked with loam

He sneers
I could swear there are
canines in all gum roots
as he speaks
tongue dancing to farce
I hope he guillotines the messenger

He utters
you look pretty when you wear
the ****

He thwacks me deadly
I tip and tumble
right down

It is the betters years now
I've soared up, up
and now people wear mud
for me
not on faces
not that I'd care
I'm paying them, after all
after all, I'm not buying their souls
after all, they want to be here
they're happy
and after all I've been through
It's high time someone takes the mud
for me... and then
I see her

Red hair rippling in radiant sun
casting glints of desire I catch with
hungry eyes
Her skin pale as pearl
Her face speckled like rich mineral
Her features delicate and strong
Her eyes, sharp and bright and silhouetted, like
windows to a garden,
green eyes.

I've tasted never
I've spoken never
of such quibbles as love,
but her beauty is the embrace
I've never known

It's all a shimmering flow
a cascade of fluid memory
the quenching of things
not known to be thirsted
My eyes open to a path
I've just found the will
to traverse in peace.

Yet, like Jack and Jill,
we go tumbling down
the hill

It's a wedding anniversary
not ours
because silence
and delirium imbibed
is preferred on such occasions

I smile
She glances
and sighs deep
unearthing cavernous
of misery
caked on memories
of bittersweet mysteries
called love

It is only in the mirror that,
with those windowed eyes,
she gazes with scorn, pity
a truth meant for me

Shame crushes my heart
heartbeat pulsing like
a crumpled soda can
rattling on empty road

With languid brushstrokes
she applies the mascara

You look pretty when you wear
the ****
I said

The pin drops
and with it
the canvas...

One man's trash is another's face
We can find solace in the
shattered remnants
of our dreams,
or we can challenge
the very precepts that
assured our rightful happiness
I burned the midnight oil to get this done... 1:28am to be exact.
Though, you'll probably only see this in the morning.

Still, today being August marks close to 8 years that I've been writing poetry (seasonally), from the days in which I was trying to dazzle people in my High School, senior year "Creative Writing" class and... sometimes succeeding, hahah, that is until administration pulled me out of that class and stuck me in Gym class (the history behind that is way too complicated right now, LOL).

Starting in 2012, I went through three years of not being able to write anything substantial. That was very painful.

I've got a really complex relationship with writing, so I'm always excited and amazed when I finish a piece, and I'm prone to sharing with anyone who'll give it a chance.

I've never won any competitions, I've barely been published and I still carry this idea that someone will care even if I don't, LOL. It's not like I don't want to do those things. It's that I'm too busy dying inside to care (cue fake laughter...)

Anyway, I'm always trying to write my thoughts out after the poem and am thankful that this option is here. I get to read over these things a month later and cringe at how weird I was and, "Why did I say that?" and, "Shut up, idiot!" and "Ah, nice, that was cool..." and "Oh, you always LOL me, man."

Yup, life is sad, but we get to write about how sad it is, as if that would make it any less sad, I mean, if that's the way it works, why don't I just write about how I don't have any money and *gasps* it's the cosmic loophole! Chuh-ching!!!
Luminous Night Feb 2016
There are many kinds of masks,
All fit for each of their tasks.

Some are made out of smiles,
Stretches longer than a mile.

Some are made out of silence,
Like speaking needs a license.

Some are made of good deeds,
Always ready to give a wise heed.

Some are made out of darkness,
Always doing mischief with grace and finesse.

There are too many to mention,
All have the same complications

Are they what they are to be,
Or just a cover for those who wanted to see.

A behavior that wasn't theirs,
All done because everybody gives fake cares.
Almost everyone wears at least one, to hide sadness or to be someone they couldn't be
Frank Ruland Mar 2015
When it was said and done,
          one little Piggy had his fun.

In his House of Straw he played
          as his idle hands strayed

A casualty of sloth, another hapless victim
          How he squealed as the Big "Bad" Wolf sicced him
Frank Ruland Mar 2015
One little Piggy toiled a while more,
     then relaxed as his brother was gored

In his House of Wood, were there no worries?
     You must not have heard the stories.

A lofty, strong safekeeping, so he thought,
     but in his dying breath...* "It was all for naught."
Becky Littmann May 2014
A chance you blindly took
Without even giving it a second look
Left you slightly damaged & bruised
Feeling twisted & used
Words not said,& answers that only confused
Like a fool, your heart was played
Too many years you stayed
But as the memories begin to fade
You became more wise
Quick to spot deception & lies
There's nothing now, that comes to be a surprise
There's just something's you can't deny
No matter how hard you try
You simply can't save everyone
Sometimes you just have to let go, walk away & be done...

— The End —