Sitting here alone,
Atop a pile of ash and burnt paper encased filters,
As Plant tells me of a girlong past,
Causing me to reminise.

Met by chance,
And instantly captured by your pure differentness,
The tint given to you by the city seemed to almost glow off of you in amber waves,
So different to what I was use to growing up in the Midwest.

Your starkness in the way you went about things,
Your personality drawing me deeper still.

Guilt I felt upon realizing what I felt,
For you were the sister to a man I could easily call a brother,
And tales told seemed somewhat tainted,
I knew some of your story without you knowing,
Like an invasion of privacy without doing anything wrong.

I'd come to visit you and the family,
My first trip to a place so large,
Everything so tall,
Nothing but in person did it injustice,
But alas I was only passing through.

I'd end up nestled into the mountains and lakes of the deep north,
And sometimes when flying I'd imagine I could just see the tips of the scycrapers on the horizon,
Like fingers on a hand waving a hello.

Plant has already left,
Waters, Gilmore, and Wright take his place,
Telling a most mournful tale,
The mound is growing quicker by the minute,
Teeth being unconsciously being ground.

When returning sometime later,
You could instantly see through the ruse,
Of the damage being hidden,
That the smile wasn't quite reaching my eyes,
But you said not a word,
For you knew I wasn't ready to talk.

I look away ashamed at our last meeting,
Hurting and lashing out,
Acting in a way quite opposite of the way I was raised.

I sit here now alone,
The guys long gone,
Leaving me with a parched throat.

Stepping out to the porch,
I look to the east,
To where the woods lay,
And imagine the glow of the city lights on the horizon,
So that New York Girl doesn't seem so far away.
Can someone tell me the best way to end a poem?,
because for the past year
I’ve been thinking I’m leaving them incomplete
Writing out of pure desire
Memories that bounds us
And the night together

I know you can’t forget
The way our shadows moved
To the song the light bent,
But like everything,
It always ends

Poem after poems of irritable pain
How much emotions they hold
How much of you they show

If you want to learn more about yourself

Just read a poem I’ve written
You’ll be bitten by bitter honesty
At the fact they are not finished

They always talk about how amazing you are
About how much I care

Please don’t stare too much
The words will get shy
And like everyone in my life

They’ll run away
Showing me another way to write

Tell me how to finish my poems love,

Show me a new way to live

Tell me that the stars glow because us

Show me which way the river flows

Because, I’m so lost tonight

Without the moon and the stars,

Blinking from a far
I told you about my weakness
You told me you'd love me regardless
I told you about my uniqueness
You told me I'm harmless

Give me your regrets
Give me the lies
Tell me the whole story
Break me with your fists
Drench me in your sorrow
Twist my arm with your anger

But just know that I will never leave you.

I stay even when you say you don’t need me
I touch your lips
Because I know the words that drip off of them
Are not meant for me.

When you strike the wall out of anger
I bandage your hands
They bleed hate and pain
But I kiss your bloody knuckles
And cradle your head in my arms

You are a mess
But I am as well
We are a mess

But I promise I won’t leave you.
Do you ever find yourself wishing you could start over?
Do you yearn for the moments you never took advantage of?
Oh, how I wish I could relive the past so I could become a better me,
So I wouldn’t have to learn the hard way of living (if you can even call it that).

What exactly is living?
Whatever it is, I know I have never experienced it.
Because if I did, I would have been so much happier,
And would have felt like it too.

But as I sit here without a doubt in my mind,
That somewhere out there is thinking the same thing,
I can’t help but wonder if this is all life has to offer.
Just a box full of chocolates, spoken affections and the roses you didn’t think you would have to pick up after.

But the petals give me comfort because they didn’t enjoy this either.
It’s not like they love to be cut down only to suffer for one’s affections for another.
I guess we are all roses stuck in our vases,
Who just want to get out and feel the fresh air that the world has to offer.

All we need is just a little nurturing,
And a small packet of food we can enjoy in the meantime,
To grow and become a better flower,
Like all are expected to be once selected.

And once we are picked, trimmed and primed to perfection,
We can fill the room with our scent of beauty,
Something only some can appreciate,
Like everything else in the world.
Aren't we all roses wishing to be held in another's arms?
her lower lip trembled, a burning sensation began to swell up from behind her throat, her mind was swept into the storm that raged within her, but her hair was still dry.

-Will you come back?-

Desperation began to crumble as realization hits her, she was no longer holding this inferno that hid between her eyelids.

A silent “no” from the anonymous person she adored, could be heard from the back of her mind.

Hurting. She is hurting from head to toe, every bone grinds against each other, making this obnoxious noise, that keeps on going until she falls to the floor, the ceiling embarks onto the stars, the floor disappears to the core, except where she stands, this raging storm that used to dorm her mind, calmed.

But it was just the eye.

she starts choking on nothing, just like if water filled the room, silent echoes of her last breath began to run down the hall, windows open in every room, every door slams again and again. Until, it stops.

The windows close, the doors lock, and her, she’s still looking at the ceiling, with a blind look on her pale blue eyes.
Brokk66 2d
all i have to give
is myself
as i am
wherever you are
know that i'm near
you will feel me
inside you
without limits
and without boundaries

whenever you're alone
think of me
and i'll know it
as i have always known it
i am inside you
heart mind and soul
you belong to me now

i will not stumble

i will never get lost

i will be your guide

you are mine
and i am yours
now and forever
and everlasting
For her, as always.
I’ve heard by so many people that,
suicide isn’t the answer
That life has so much to offer,
That dreaming doesn’t take much,
That dreams can become real,
That love will come.

Nothing will overcome this feeling,
Im drowning in thoughts,
Im Overthinking,

Sometimes the sky looks clearer
Than other nights.

And today,
Today’s one of those nights,
I can see the stars
Shining bright tonight
Clara E 2d
I remember being offered the same bed. It was a joke amongst friends, amongst friends who'd already heard my heart flutter when I'd brought you along for quiet drinks in the kitchen. You couldn't sleep without a smoke you said after everyone had gone to bed.

In the summer air I joined you outside, turning down the cigarette when you offered. Something about the summer haze made it only natural why I'd followed you out in the early hours.

We used to talk about our lives and our feelings and the flitting of people through them. I recall the grass being wet as you paced, insisting you were holding on for something better and it was coming, you just didn't know when.

Last year in that morning dusk all I recall is the content quiet, the improbable, the quiet of the garden as your company became the volume. This was never love, this was a collection of moments that put the bird calls in the day. Placed us in orbit around the sun. Made days feel like days and nights feel like night.

(Early fondness)
Within a year we weren't speaking but this is a fond thought.
Share your heartbreaks.
Tell me,little boy.What does make thou weep?
Could it be,that you're sick or maybe weak?
Tell me,little boy,where could your mother be?
On this day filled with delight,
And the sun shining so bright,
Other boys swift as arrow run,
And I scarcely can comprehend why tears your face sweep,
Tell me little boy,what makes you weep?

Never mind it old man,for I cry for thee.
As of your age,what have we to see?
It is you who robs me of delight,
On a day this bright,
Ooh!Regret forms a shade,
O'er your lovely grey head,
Old man when I look at thy face,
Disappointment I trace,
What's even worse old man,
Is that by the mirror you passed,
Perhaps to take the last glimpse before thine life you take.
That is why, I weep old man.
I wrote this poem at night while thinking of what it would be like to be old and full of rue.To the extent of taking one's life.I hope you like it as much as I did writing it.
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