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Running cross country
Just so you can hurt me.
Desert me in the dessert,
Leave me tethered to the sky.
I fly just fine
As long as
I’m high enough.
I’ve been staying dry enough.
Been getting by- sly enough.
Not shy enough to be alone
In my own personal reserve.
Haven’t you heard?
Awkward, anxious caterpillar
Took her time off too cocoon.
Now she watches you all swoon
Over her metamorphosis into
Social Butterfly.
I will be friendly,
I will not try to please the masses.
I soar through open sky.
With looks that serve and wings
That swerve.
All you insects
Are disturbed by the words
Of my accomplishments.
I can’t wait to see the astonishment-
I love who I am.
And if you are perturbed by
My self love,
Then Darling, I’m
Sorry your self esteem has
Fizzled out so low.
But you can still support others
From a friendly distance,
Rather than watching
People succeed
And immediately feeling
Through the lens of a camera, everything appears far away. It's easy to feel nothing when you designate yourself a spectator.
My girlfriend was a spectator. All the time, she was carrying a camera in her delicate, pale hands. My mother had a name for delicate and thin hands: "artist fingers." My girlfriend used to call herself an artist.
"Mom, do you think Rebecca is a good girlfriend to me?"
My mother looked at me. Her glasses reflected the light from the living room lamp. I couldn't see her eyes. I was petting my cat while I spoke to her, and as I looked at my mother, my grip tightened. She opened her mouth to speak.
My girlfriend broke up with me via a Skype call. I watched her through the camera. She didn't look at me. Our relationship lasted a year and a half. I sobbed. She didn't look at the camera. It's easy to be a spectator. It's easy to not look at anything.
I raised my eyes.
My best friend was watching me. "Can you move your leg a little?"
Once I did, he lifted his camera. He took some pictures of me.
"Vincent... can I talk to you about something?"
He paused, and then lowered the camera.
"I had a fight with Rebecca."
Something in his eyes changed. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would have missed it.
January. "She said bad things about you."
My heart beat a little harder. My lungs hurt.
"I don't care."
I didn't look at him.
We were lying side by side. I looked at her. I had given her a necklace of guitar picks. It rested on her collarbones.
Suddenly, I said, "If we break up, promise me you're not going to throw away the necklace."
She looked at me. She had blue and green eyes, so beautiful. My mother often said that she had striking eyes.
"I promise."
I remember how, during our dates, she used to take pictures of the sky. I found it cute.
Vincent always thought that it was cliché.
My psychologist was watching me. "I'm not judging you."
I was silent. I looked at my fingers. Thin. Fine. I was an artist too. But she was the artist.
"How can you know that I'm not judging you if you don't look at me?"
A moment. She leaned back in the chair. Another moment. I remember that I could hear the ticking of her clock.
It came quietly. "Sorry."
I was at a party, talking with a pretty girl. The noise of the party seemed muted, somehow. Suddenly, she took one of my hands.
"I like your hands. You have such beautiful fingers."
She looked at me.
"Like an artist."
I looked at her. She had brown eyes, like dark chocolate. Striking. She was smiling just a little bit. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would have missed it. I laughed.
"Like an artist..." I repeated.
She laughed too, a little embarrassed. Her laugh was joyous, almost musical.
I smiled.
so i know this isn't a poem per se, but i wrote it for a short story class and i wanted to share it. enjoy!
With you, I didn't cry much over
But with you, I felt the most pain
You didn't hurt me, at least not intentionally
Though it hurts more than I can explain
You fell in love and pursued her
I felt my heart break again
Because she fell for you too so it shattered
I was unable to restrain
No one knew of my feelings
I couldn't put them on display
I tried to give up by avoiding you
In hopes this love would go away
How many times I've failed
Because you kept enticing me to play
This friendly game between friends
When I know you wouldn't look my way
Your eyes made me weak
I had to look at them everyday
They reminded me why I fell for you
I felt a connection I couldn't contain
How we are when it's just us
I wondered if you felt the same
Your actions and words, I misinterpreted
But I know you are not to blame
No matter what, I have control
My heart is my responsibility to tame
For if it were someone else,
Or something else,
Something unavoidable,
I would let it slide.

As we grew older,
our dreams and ambitions,
our sprinkle and sparkle,
thoughts and decisions,
would slowly alter.

For if my own body and mind would deny it,
I still crave you, crave you, with each fibre of my being.
You may have hurt me, hurt me beyond repair.

Hurt me so that I had to put on a mask and play out my role.
My role, of forever having my memories engraved in my skull, but with a cheerful smile and carry on.

Sometimes loving you was hard, sometimes it was almost impossible.
But never had I regretted or had my love for you fade.
Despite that, hearing what I did, gave me a shiver down my spine.

As I finally realized, that I was only a tool, made to love unconditionally.
Love someone that had me replaced with a flick of a finger, with no regrets and sorrow.
Without caring if I were to survive exiled as if it was all for nought.

In truth, I survived, I got reborn.
I had my wounds all patched up, my memories erased and replaced.
Although, there is something, something deep inside me, a piece which would remain to be void.

That, this is a part, which I am forever cursed to carry in me, my final long and everlasting, piece of art.

For when my last moments come, I am sure that my last beat, would be for you.
This poem is devoted to the person that made me change.
calcium 2d
To think you were actually looking for yourself
How ****** can I get?
I kept thinking we were the same
but we’re not
you are someone else
and I am glad I’m not you
you will always be a mystery
but I’m growing tired of trying to solve you
I’m no longer going to play with fire
I don’t want to get burned for you
I will make sure you won’t come my way anymore
You never did, to begin with
I’m going to look for the person in the mirror
and make sure that she finds herself
i'm tired of hoping. it's time to move on.
pluto 5d
Imagine giving life
to what consumes yours,
reviving the pain
that caused devastating wars.

Imagine fixing
what tears you to pieces,
remembering the broken
and lying kisses.

Imagine destroying
what completes youㅡ
what makes you whole
yet poisons you from the inside.

Imagine killing
what makes you alive.
burn old memories, tear old letters,
forget people and, maybe, survive.

Bury it all.
Erase it all.  
Leave what you treasure the most.
Destroy what holds your shattered soul together.

Can you break away
from what binds you to home?
Can you let go
of what you hold on to?

No, you can't.
Because it is in this pain
that you found home.
"Imagine" he began, "and do not forget that it is only a figment of your imagination"
pluto 6d
and they never knew
they were lost stars,
building their empires
after many lost wars.
Now she is a mosquito
In the amber of my diary
She was my velveteen rabbit—
She was real when I loved her
But the realest things blur, and fade
And die, and get lost, and get buried
Unless we maintain them
She is immortalized, but at what cost?
She’s a cellulose shell
With ink for insides
Maybe I should burn her pages
Smash her golden prison
And free her
This is about a straight girl I fell in love with in high school, and about how the things that seem the most important in the present become insignificant with time
It's called "Straight Girl II" because "Straight Girl I" isn't finished yet lol
October Dec 3
It's not a fairy-tale
It's just love, you and me
Learning to give
Learning to be
Don't get me wrong, your love
It's true
And deep
And Strong
But it's not a fairy-tale
It never will be
Not like it was with him and me
But a smolder still creates heat
It's not a fairy-tale
But it's not defeat
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