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storm siren Nov 2016
I feel like you think of me
As a child.

Pat my head,
Kiss my cheek,
I'm cute sometimes
I'm funny sometimes

But I won't get what you think
I won't get what you feel.

You're proud of me occasionally,
But you won't ever lean on me,
Or let me help you.
I'm too broken myself
To help any part of you.

And I'd like to say,
That after each wall I break through
There's another and then another,
But there's only one or two I've gotten through.

Maybe I am just a little girl,
A child who's been too used
And too injured
To really get it,
But that doesn't mean I can't get it.

Though I understand the fear
Of opening up to anyone.

There was a lot of fear
When I opened up to you.
I just kind of thought,
At first,
"What do I have to lose?"

Apparently a lot.

I have a lot to lose.
Oooooooowwwwwww

Edit: Slowly coming down.
AL Braddy Nov 2015
Red Heated rash,
stinging to the touch.

Aching to the core,
and burning through your skin.

Denial,
Betrayal,
Acceptance.

Then it starts to peel.

The rash will eradicate,
the burn will be no more,
the pain will peel away.

The skin will be renewed,
the red now replaced with fleshy pink,
and the ache now a dull pain.

But the heart remains broken,
it's love now shattered,
the inside torn,
and the ligaments now severed.


The Ache is Diminished,


But the burn is forever.
Sun Burn: Please understand the representation of the sunburn. (Hint: It's not really a sunburn.)
Paige Nov 2015
I can't really put together my inhabitable thoughts anymore. Everything about you is still left wide open just like the door you tore apart.
I look for you now in everyone I meet.
Searching for a small sign that you are still in my everyday life. That your smile isn't wiped off the face of the earth and you coffee eyes were still within someone else who shared the same taste of music as you. Your hands reminded me of maps which lead me to where I wanted to stay for the rest of my life. Every exhale that came out of you guided me like a lost sail boat and hushed me up to shore. I loved listening to the sound of your voice telling me to sleep, yet reminding me that our time was limited and that I didn't have all the time I needed to have with you.
Absolutely no one can compare to how your coffee stains left on old written notes were like my gold stars. I felt at home in your arms and you were at peace in my head. I want that back. I want you back.
i ******* miss you
Jaclyn Jackomis Sep 2015
My back hurts so bad,

But nobody will help,

Please let me die now.
A haiku about being a girl.
Marisa Lu Makil Jun 2015
The light dapples in
Throwing odd shadows
On the plastic surrounding me.
Like a strange sunset put there
To taunt my eyes

Each droplet of water
Is another arrow
Shooting new spikes of pain
Through my body

Hundreds
Thousands
Millions of drops
Per second
Splash onto my skin.
1,000
2,000

I could have avoided the pain
I could have stopped this
Not going to the beach
Not going on that walk

But oh, I would not take it back.

Not one second.
Every
Happy
Minute was another
Happy
Memory

To add to my collection
And even
As I lay here
Rivulets of water
Washing down my red skin
I am making another.

You tease me
Like some cruel trickster
Happiness
Dripping down my back

Turned to cruel
Twisted
Pain
Running up my spine like a knife.

Oh, blissful pain
Would that I could feel
You to your full relevance

Instead, you trip over me
Leaving pain in your wake.

Like a torture machine.

This feels so bad
But so good.
Once the water is freed
From the contraption shooting it
Like a pistol in my heart
Onto my skin
It rebels against its maker
And trickles delightfully across me, sending delightful shivers
Into me
Only to betray me again.

Oh, sweet treasure
Would that your painful side were invisible
So
I
Could sleep
Once
Again.
I got a sunburn, and skinned knees. I am in copious amounts of pain. -_-
Meghan Doan Jan 2015
The first time I spent the night in his room, I did not sleep.
He laughed when he came back from the bathroom to see that I had folded his shirt while he was gone, asked me why, and I did not answer him.
At four o'clock in the morning I slithered away from his bed, wearing his sweatpants.
I folded them neatly in my closet.

When you grow up with a single mom, you learn quickly that there are times when you will have to be alone.
You learn to do your own dishes and check your own homework and wash your own laundry.
You learn to fold things neatly and put them away.

There was never anything neat about you.
No matter how many times I folded that shirt, my feelings for you were always messy and they were everywhere.
It reminded me of laundry day,
Clothes scattered around my room, listening to upbeat pop songs as I gathered them to be washed.
Some things were muddy from a rainy October recess, there were white pants stained red from a ****** knee, a green sweater splattered with grape juice because I just couldn't keep my glass full.
Some things almost looked clean, but I knew better.

My days with you were full of almost clean.
Evenings of red wine and laughing and card games that became nights of drunken giggling and pulling off my white tee shirt, stained with grown up grape juice.
And my mom isn't here to help me get the stain out.
In the morning, you made me tea and sang me Bob Dylan songs and I almost felt clean until I remembered your hands clasped at the curve of my waist the night before.
But I am well versed in cleaning up my own messes.
I lathered your sweat off my body with too-hot water and vanilla body wash, but your finger prints stayed under my skin and I couldn't remember the recipe for homemade stain remover and besides, it kind of looked like a pattern.

I should know by now that wine is not going to make the messes any tidier, but it's nice to forget how bleach smells sometimes.
You didn't notice how nicely my shirt was pressed when you were talking to her, and I guess that's when I realized that you didn't really mind the stain on her collar or the wrinkles
And I realized how harsh I looked next to the dirt on your canvas shoes and the rip in your jeans.

I guess I thought that if I folded my feelings for you neatly enough, you'd think it looked pretty,
But I never imagined that you wanted me messy, you said you like sleeping outside and you wish you could see the stars in the city,
I thought,
I wish you looked at me the way you look at the galaxy.

When you brought my sweater back to me, you told me you tried to fold it like I would, but I thought it looked better crumpled up and half-folded.
As I took in your disheveled hair and wrinkled tee shirt, I said goodbye.
I never really took my body out from under your fingers, and maybe that's why my chest bruised when you left,
And all I could do was fold my sweater.
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Sorry, I got in a brawl with my sloth girlfriend and she slammed my head into my keyboard...
Greyson Fay Jan 2015
Its funny how your words hurt more when your not speaking them.
Its funny how you blame me for the action when you continued it.
Its funny how you leave, then get mad at me for being distant.
Its funny how much you hurt me.
Its funny how much I take.
Its funny how much I blame on myself
Ita funny how i still love you
Its funny how neither one of us can tell who's worse

This acctualy is not funny at all
Because I just lost my best friend.
Amd im never getting her back.
And she will never
Accept my apology

But i am sorry.
All i ever wanted to do,
was help,
I promise,
Im so sorry

So leave me Alone
And let me cry.
Ember Evanescent Jan 2015
It would be funny if there was a guy who yelled Ow! and felt like he'd been slapped every time someone broke a law, no matter how minor.
I think he would be justified in his hatred for high schoolers if this guy existed lol! idk, I have weird thoughts. I would laugh so much though.
...WOW I have problems...


It's a series. Feel free to add to it. Title is self-explanatory. Literally, any spontaneous thought no matter how weird (like mine), funny, sad, deep, happy, thoughtful, or random.

Just include the hashtag #spontaneousthoughts and use the same title as mine: Spontaneous Thoughts (Series)

also feel free to message me to let me know you added to my series so I can read it.
#spontaneousthoughts
possibly Oct 2014
he plays a two part harmony, solo*

m.b.
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