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Tyler Castro Apr 2017
Will a Phoenix doused in water reignite?
Should the Sun ever disturb the night?
As my eyes take their rest my mind takes flight
Then quickly plummets straight into blight
Straight into sorrow; reigniting my rage
And keeps me awake as if it were day
Awake to write my story/Awake to dwell on the last page
How dare I wallow over someone engaged?
Great Leviathan, Demon God of water and life
Lend me your strength as I overcome this strife
Baptize me in your waters and revitalize my sight
Clear away all the salt and callus to turn my scleras white
Drown the anger in my heart; cease its return!
**** the Phoenix, for its presence burns!
Drown the Sun so that the moon may take its turn
Allow my brain to rest so that I may have the capacity learn
How to fully move on…
The demonology was borrowed from Anton Szandor LaVey
Lauren R Dec 2016
Playing my cards wrong like
Jim Morrison prom night bath,
lavender and drug fixings,
we all just hope I went

Sorry I only love you
until I wake up in the
I'm on and off like
sunrise sunset.

My mind is stuffed
in a box
in the attic.
I'm a heartbreak
Don't ever let me heal.
Just stay away if you don't want to catch the other side of this double edged sword
Buddy T Dec 2016
Things will start
and things will end,
but the world will continue to turn.
For there's always spring after winter
and winter will come again.

And even as our days on earth shorten
and we love our loves no more.
The days on the calendar will continue to fall,
and we will move on
and we will continue to live.

And even when our laughs seem to stop time,
and this moment doesn't seem to end.
The clock on the wall will continue to tick.
And our hearts will continue to beat,
until death.

But it's funny!
Even after death
and birth
and love
and hate, all in our hearts,

the sun will continue to rise.
And the world will turn
and the stars will shine
and the seasons will change
and our child's play will never change our constants.
because even when things start and things end, the world will keep spinning and the sun will still rise
Aly Oct 2016
I shouldn't have dialed your number,
when I need someone to listen my babbles and rants,
when I feel sick--lonely, close to crying.
When I feel empty.
I shouldn't have dialed your number,
when I'm pained of missing you.
When I'm numb.
When I'm estatic.
I shouldn't have dialed your number,
but I want to hear your voice,
cuss on me when life gives you *****,
laugh with petty-or otherwise- mishaps.
I want to be your anchor--
like the old days.
Oh, those ******* old days.
You shouldn't have answered my call,
when you want to hear my voice,
when you missed the sound of my existence,
when you want to kiss me, hug me--
but you can't.
You shouldn't have answered my call,
when I need you.
I will always need you.
You shouldn't have answered my call.
You should let it ring,
until it became a missed call on your log.
You should swipe it to decline.
You should throw it on your bed,
or to something harder.
You shouldn't have answered any of my calls.
I called because I missed you.
I called because I want the old us.
I called because--****!
I can't live without you,
but I should live without you.
blue mercury Oct 2016
step one.
you close your eyes.
you close them tight.
then you press your palms
against your
closed eyelids,
you start seeing red spots that remind you
of a song you wrote
for someone so long ago.
that someone doesn't matter anymore,
not really, so eventually,
neither will he.

step two.
you wear a nightgown.
the one with the lacy v neck, the one
that exposes your thighs,
the one with the vintage roses.
you wear it to bed to remind yourself
that you don't have to wear his attention
like a perfume
to feel ****.

step three.
you listen to those songs.
you know which ones.
you listen to them and sing or rap along
until your throat is sore, until
your chest hurts. do it
until you don't know why you're crying,
then write a song about why
you are crying,
so that when you look back,
you can see that it doesn't matter.
heartache fades.

step four.**
dive into a body of water in only
your under garments.
force yourself
to swim,
no matter how much
you want
to drown.
not very easy steps. i lied. whoops.
Àŧùl Oct 2016
I fought against myself to love her,
To love her, I had fought my family,
Maybe she did too, but not as seriously.
I had overridden myself to love her,
To love her, I had ignored the world,
Maybe she did too, but not as seriously.
Perhaps, she too was just another illusion after all.

But NO!

I truly loved her,
Only I loved her truly,
The way I loved is not just an illusion.
She did love me,
But not at all as truly,
The way she loved was a fake illusion.
Perhaps, *her love too was just another illusion after all.
HP Poem #1167
©Atul Kaushal
FaithfulDots Oct 2016
In happy thoughts
You was like in a oath
I had love you
Even in the day and night

I chased you even it takes a minutes
I care for you in every seconds
My mind and my heart beg you

But what is this feeling?
Its like a fantasy and reality collide
O **** much!
Sarah Michelle Jan 2016
Eyes are sensitive
Heart is foul on the outside
But you are moving on
You used to paint pictures
with me. You were always smiling
when the brush glides on paper
as the colours spread everywhere.

Patiently, you'd recreate every
bit and impression of reality,
and add a version of your own,
until the picture will be perfect
with magical meanings
only we would have known.

But patience is a virtue
your self never learned.
One day, you were snapping photographs,
capturing moments, developing pictures,
pasting collages -- a panorama of
life you chose.

For weeks and weeks on end,
I went to those places where we used to paint;
Time is such a mystery to have put distance in a memory.
I would trade my whole life just for you
to colour it again. Like old paintings,
bring back its vividness; restore it.

And now, I am on this bus.
In transit.
A gift-wrapped box inside my bag.
I am sending it to you personally.
Take pictures with it and
live a happy life.
I'm letting you go. Please set me free.
Lizley Dec 2015
Sam walks around the galaxies
and reaches for each star that he passes by
Hoping he’d get warm from even just one,
– or two
of those flickering lights
And I stared.
Sam wanders in circles
looking  for utopia
under the bushes, above the clouds
Out there somewhere
there might be a Shangri-la
And I stared.
Sam examines the deepest seas
Two hundred, then five
–  a thousand meters below
wondering if he can still build a campfire
and enjoy his sweet beer  and s’mores
And I just stared.
But Sam stared back.
Sam pulled out his empty heart
and stitched me up in there
curious of how it would feel
So together with his heart I beat,
then I was beaten
Because Sam was a scientist,
and he wanted to know what love is
He wanted to test if it could ****
and I –
I was just his willing experiment
© Lizley (Maria Flordeliz Yamog)
This one goes out to you. Thank you for both the happy and broken heart beats.
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