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orion j Jun 2014
love is crooked lines. love is eyes that sting. love is short people tiptoeing. possibly the smell of a forest fire. love is the waves crashing against the shore. the sky changing hues. a watercolour palette with all the neon colours now blue. love is pairs of birds above us, fleeing from the cold. or maybe a curtained window blocking our view of the world. be my guest, interlock fingers. kiss rosy cheeks.  light the bridges. pay to be on board a shipwreck. love is you in the hallway, asking me to leave. love is okay, i'll go soon. love is you're right, i'll go now.
bucky Jun 2014
WHEN I SLEEP ALL I SEE IS YOUR ******* FACE
IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS AND YOU STILL WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE
YOU'RE BARELY A VAPOR BUT I STILL HEAR YOUR VOICE IN MY HEAD STOP TEMPTING ME TO JUMP OFF YOUR CLIFF
THE TRUTH AND I SHARE A WATERY GRAVE AND I DON'T WANT TO FACE MY OWN FUTURE
MY HEARTBEAT HAS FLUCTUATED SEVEN TIMES IN THE PAST HOUR
FOUR TIMES WERE YOUR FAULT
THE REST WERE BECAUSE OF MY ASTHMA ATTACK I HAVE TO USE MY INHALER WHENEVER I HEAR YOUR VOICE IN MY HEAD
I WOKE UP YESTERDAY AND YOUR NAME BLED OUT OF MY MOUTH LIKE WATER FROM A ******* SPOUT WHY CAN'T I FORGET YOU ALREADY
IF I SHOOT YOUR GRAVESTONE WILL YOUR GHOST GO UP IN FLAMES?IF I CLAW OUT MY EYES WILL I FINALLY STOP SEEING YOU IN PLACES YOU CANNOT BE?IF I LET FEATHERS FALL FROM MY BACK LIKE ANGELS' WINGS WILL YOU COME BACK TO LIFE?
TOUCH YOUR FINGERS TO MY CROWS FEET AND TELL ME I LOOK ******* AWFUL
PLEASE JUST TELL ME I LOOK ******* AWFUL
THERE ARE SEVEN WAYS TO TELL SOMEONE YOU HATE THEIR GUTS
ONE OF THEM IS DYING
I'M SORRY YOU HATE MY GUTS BUT I HATE YOURS MORE
I HATE YOUR LIVER AND YOUR KIDNEYS AND YOUR ******* LUNGS I HATE HOW MUCH YOU SMOKED
I HATE HOW YOU REMEMBERED MY ASTHMA AND BLEW OUT THE ASHES AWAY FROM MY FACE
WEAVE LACEWORK OVER MY HANDS AND FACE LEAVE DOTS OF BLOOD AROUND MY EYES
SHOW ME YOU WERE HERE
SHOW ME THAT I DIDN'T MAKE YOU UP YOU WERE NEVER A FEVER DREAM
YOU WERE COLD AND REAL AND I WISH YOUR PIANIST'S FINGERS COULD STILL PLAY
THERE IS NO GREY AREA ON A BABY GRAND
NO ROOM FOR ERROR WHEN YOU CRASH YOUR CAR INTO A BRICK WALL
THEY TOLD ME TO HONOR YOUR MEMORY SO I CUT OUT MY LUNGS IN THE HOPES THAT IT WOULD HELP YOU TO BREATHE AGAIN
THIS IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A TSUNAMI AND A HURRICANE.
nichole r Jun 2014
I wrote so many poems
for him
that impossibly
I was running out of metaphors.
Nickols Jun 2014
There is a lesson to be learned here. Maybe even a few.

I've been so angry.
So angry, I fear I might lunge at myself. My reflection shattering into a million peices, with the shards lodged in my chest. Churning and turning.

I've lost sight on things that should never, ever be misplaced. My heart on my sleeve, snipped away from a fraying string.

Know this: A man with out his heart is worse than a lion missing his courage. The fates takening, so where is the wizard to give back what I've lost?

There is no golden road to follow... Nothing but a ****** river to cross over on.
But where do we walk, when all the bridges have been burnt?

A lesson. A lesson to be learned.

Where do you go after the wolfs destroys your house, blown your stick home to the ground? Either in his belly or ****** and broken on the ground.

A lesson. A lesson to learn.

Never trust what you can not see, taste or hear... Then again, it's just not wise to trust anyone at all.
nissa Jun 2014
Roses aren't always metaphors, you know.
For the ghosts in the walls that write poems about how you sleep.
For the shadows in empty closets that you fear will creep.
For the rivers you've travelled that leave burns on your arms.
For the faces pressed against windows that slip colours into the wind.
For deserted bus stops made of crushed beer tins.
For the bars filled with grannies and trannies and the best kind of sins.
Sometimes they're analogies.
And boy, are they lovely.
received  a tumblr prompt (-::::
Ophelia Jun 2014
All your promises,
Each whispered "I love you",
Every smile, every kiss,
They've pressed my heart to a page.
Your careless words
Have lovingly tucked me away
Between the pages of your life
A mere prologue for you.
Once beautiful and alive,
Now all that is left of me
Is a withered smile,
Like an old flower,
Pressed to a page.
Lani Foronda Jun 2014
I am not yours
Nor can I ever be.
I am bound to this world
This earth
This terrain
While you-  
You are walking across the universe
On steps that I will never graze upon.

I envy the faces you pass-
People who don't even know your name
Yet are privileged to be in your presence
While I am here, clinging to the mere indentation of you on my bed.

I don't understand the logic behind this.
I know you.
I have seen you wake up in the early morning,
A sketch of hazy eyes and soft edges.
I have seen you thrash in the middle of the night,
Delirious and fevered from the demons in your head.
I've held your calloused hands
And mapped out your scars
To the constellations of the dark dark sky.
I knew all of that
And yet
I still could not be yours.
March 31 - April 01, 2014
Dianne Jun 2014
It seems that our love is like the rain. It will pour hard, unleashing all the contained energy. Then it will pour harder, letting it all go, consuming our very being. And eventually, it will stop. Leaving nothing but the aftermath of us which will dry soon enough. Looking like nothing even happened.
precarious words Jun 2014
4 seasons

summer
drops of salt water found their way into our crevices,
you were my best friend
and we forgot the stars,
instead counting every grain of sand on that beach strand.

when it was time for me to leave,
you sang with the waves as back up vocals,
they would bare their teeth every time you uttered the word 'love.'
it was a protest to age but you and i knew
youth had nothing to do with it.

fall
a subtle color change in the foliage appeared
and as the leaves fall,
they made the music of our matrimony.

it was all good and well
but your failures latched on to me
and god, i was 22-
carrying the burden of a 22 year old and your latest tragedies-

the leaves still turned from lush green
to cinnabar and vermillion and ochre and the more brilliant
they became the closer to death they succumbed
following a paradigm resembling our relationship.

winter
when the snow touches the ground
everything is pure- the cold woke me up.
it woke me up as you held me
pinned down
in your luxurious apartment hallway,
where two weeks before i mistook money for monogamy.

and i've never wished fatality on anyone
but i hope you freeze to death.

spring
i met you in the spring,
and here we are, two springs later.
we are watching one another bloom,
we are the honeysuckles, the poppies,
we are reconfiguring ourselves for a season
of growth and renewel,
of quiet grace and goodness.
cr May 2014
i know we are
terrified of each other
in the most oblivious way
and that you kissed that girl
with lips tainted in cigarette
smoke last friday because
you thought it would make you
whole; but my dear

heartbreaker, she broke
you in a single touch.
people like to grow attached to things that char their lungs.
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