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blaise Mar 2017
you're flaming. little specks of crimson burn like fire in your heart. your physique melts like *** on a fire and sparks of amber make you glow like a candle in the darkness. magenta lines cross your lips and your skin mocks the setting street lamps and the burning sun.

you're a mountain to me. dwarfing cities below you with peaks that stride above the heavens, attempting to graze the planets if even so slightly.

you are worth becoming the enemy of hell. you are worth every friend you've ever lost to file yourself. you are worth it, because i've never met anyone who loves as perfectly and passionately as you.
for my cutie.
Scott Hamsun Jan 2017
This is a story from very long ago,
I suppose some might remember it from their own reminiscing,
but I learned it from my Pa.
It goes like this.

There was a man named Anthony,
he was married to a younger woman,
Sophia.
The two had tied the knot one year prior,
In 1931.
Anthony knew not to fully trust Sophia,
(although he himself was not a man of great moral character)
because she was never loyal to a soul.
It was systematic,
even if she loved who she was with,
even if she had everything to gain,
she found a way to justify infidelity.
Anthony did not know about all her scandals,
just enough of them to keep his eyes peeled.

The two of them had owned a tobacco farm,
In the middle of Oklahoma,
I do suppose it was Anthony's in reality,
But I would guess if a couple shares a bed,
and a home,
and their money,
the farm is also in joint custody.

This was not just a farm,
It was the heart of the town,
pumping out a vital product in all directions,
It was the only thriving business around,
I suppose because it feeds an addiction,
it was a tough time,
even from farmers,
but dust does not hurt Tobacco plants.

The time came around however,
when a successful business owner came to town.
He was asking what was making the money in this village,
Anthony and Sophia's hands were always raised,
in preparation for this question,
they had enough pride to fit twice inside of a musician.
The man asked to buy their property,
along with the plantation and all the workers.
the money offered was somewhere between,
one hundred and fifty thousand,
and,
three hundred thousand,
the exact number has been lost with age.
Whatever the case, It impressed the couple,
who proceeded to sell,
and buy a small house in the town.

What hasn't been told to you is that Anthony's father was gravely ill,
Anthony promised if he ever ran into money,
he would pay for better care for his beloved father.
When Anthony Remembered this promise, he wrote his father.
Sophia, did not like this,
the fortune was theirs, and not for some sick man,
with only half the life,
(if he got better)
that they had.

Even with her tricky seductive ways,
she could not convince him to keep the money,
Anthony wanted to give the whole of their new fortune to his father.
Anthony saw the rage of the devil in her eyes,
and every day she blocked him,
the monster within her had come alive,
roaring with anger, and retaliation to nobility,
which caused his inner beast to stir.
It never awoke,
but turned his empathy to dust.

They always tell of how small the sum of money Anthony sent was,
but maybe its more important to count what he did not send,
whatever the case was, his father could do nothing with it,
it was not enough to pay for better care,
just more of his original care.

Anthony and Sophia,
dressed in the most stylish clothes,
and wearing the most elegant jewelry,
soon went to visit his Anthony's parents,
when they walked in,
there were typical greetings,
just what you would expect from semi-estranged family members.

When however,
Anthony's mother took a hard look at the two of them,
she cried, and hit them,
cursing them for wasting their money and lying,
(for Anthony told his parents he didn't have enough money,
and that he gave what he had to his father.)

She told them to begone,
and that they could not have cared,
because they could not be bothered to give any more money,
Anthony left the house and Sophia trailed behind him.

On their way back to where they parked the ford,
Anthony and Sophia were struck down by a car.
they were killed instantly,
and the police came to claim their bodies.

That was the plight of a young couple not many people know of anymore,
Why it ever became famous I don't even know,
perhaps it was the despicability of Sophia,
or the unknowing victimization of Anthony,
but it holds an important lesson,
and I'm glad to have told you about it.
Scott Hamsun Jan 2017
I lived in a house with seventeen doors,
two in the front,
and the rest were red.
A staircase led to one of the red ones in the front,
and underneath the floor of the red front door,
there was another carpet,
and it was also red.

Ive talked little about the staircases in my home,
of which there were eighty-seven,
but only two of them had any steps,
one had a small room under it
and spiders would plunder it,
It was always dark,
and that's where I found my ring,
when I found it however,
it was just a piece of metal,
I used my drill to shape it,
and I sold it,
and with the money I bought a house,
With twice as many staircases,
and doors four times Redder.
Joshua Trevino Apr 2016
One time when I was seven I called the police because I was home alone for too long. A boy was standing over your bed, I panicked and froze. When we dropped him in he sank to the bottom and clawed against the water for air. I sat alone in the apartment rubbing crayons against crayons. You were asleep and he reached out to touch you and I yelled. I caught my first pet on a fishing trip with my dad. I think this was the first time I ever noticed how silence can attack you. When you woke up he was gone and I was crying. I hooked a wriggling earthworm and cast out the line. The woman who answered the phone said, 911: What is your emergency? When I was five my mom saw a ghost in my room. When I pulled the line out of the water a small turtle had the end of my worm. My parents came home as I hung up the phone. She said, I was just coming in to check on you and there it was. I took him home and put him in  a plastic Tupperware container full of water.
Sam Y Starlight Dec 2015
Snowflakes are fragile feathers pouring out from pillows of the sky, falling elegantly, ever so silently, resting on the cushioned flooring.
Icy wind breathes over frosted tops of Evergreen trees, powdery crystals fall onto My lashes, forgotten moments begin to appear in flashes;
As laughter echoes from every corner, the cool air starts feeling warmer, I remember the times I spent in winter playing carelessly, without any worries, twirling merrily, Like the flurries of snow. 
Delicate flakes dissolve as they kiss my face; soon these memories will also evanesce. Life is brief like a snowy day; So be grateful and enjoy every day!
Sam Y Starlight Dec 2015
Do you remember those summer noon times when the sun painted the world with shades of warm butterscotch. We sat stringing daisies together; like unbroken chains of our conversations - that lasted till sunset -

Swirling candy floss clouds, dissolved; leaving hues of soft pink that fused with the periwinkle sky. We'd walk home marvelling at nature's tie and dye.

After all these years you've drifted away like wisps of floating clouds; But the warm colour of your friendship has splashed itself onto the canvas of my memories

..and I will always remember those vibrant summer days that I spent sitting by your side.
Reposting an old poem that I e also edited.
Nathaniel Harley Jul 2015
Dear Ex-Lovers,

i. You were poison to me and I loved to get burnt. How could you leave me lying breathless on the floor wanting more? You used me like an escape and I welcomed it. You filled my head with empty promises; I was just a puppet on your string. Oh darling I should have known I was dancing  with the devil when I was captured in your eyes.

ii. You were my midnight calls and 4am drunk promises. We spent our summer under the moon with poetry written on the back of your palm. I was your everything and for a time, you were mine. But summer is over and I am gone and you are left with the realization I only used you as a muse.

Iii. It started off with shy hugs between you and I. We were misplaced kisses and awkward silence on a Saturday afternoon. You were all push and no pull, I was too. We never tried hard but that's okay; we were only a distraction from the battles we had within.

iv. I always wondered how I could love someone as cold as you. I was your blanket and you were always trying to keep warm. Maybe you needed a reason to keep trying in this turbulent world and maybe I just loved to play with broken things, but three months have passed and I still sit by your grave and wonder if all I ever did was suffocate the little candle you had burning within.
-V
Things I've wanted to tell you but it's too late.
Nathaniel Harley Jul 2015
Mother warned me not to fall for girls who turn their
bodies into a trick of light whenever you are with them.
“Careful with the pretty ones,” she would say. Smiles that can
launch a thousand ships and start civil wars were never any good.
“Be a lover, not a muse,” she would say. Careful of the girls
who love what you bring but never love who you are.
“The devil was an angel once,” she would say. He was pretty eyes
with an angelic voice and temptation in it's purest form.
Oh how mother knows best; how I never learned.
-V
Some prose poetry here :3
rogue Jul 2015
Imagine, if you will, a boy. A boy with dark hair and soft, pretty eyes framed by long lashes. And you want this boy. You want to reach inside him, pull out his still-beating heart, and swallow it whole. You want to peel off his skin, inch by inch, crawl inside of it, and never let go. You want to pull him apart, limb by limb, until you've studied every inch of him. You want him to put his hands inside you. Deep down into parts of yourself you forgot existed. You want him to soothe the ache he left in your chest.
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