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I love you,
Her boyfriend used to say
Every time he missed her birthday by a day.
Those three little words accompanied with
Thanks for your forgiveness,
That she never really gave
Beneath her false smiles.

You are beautiful,
Belongs to her mother
Who dressed her up in frills that itched
And tied doll ribbons in her hair.

You are gorgeous,
Whispered her second husband
Only in bed and not
When she had morning breath and hair,
And needed to hear those words then.

I hate you,
Never slips past her painted lips
While shining so brightly in her eyes.
Saint Audrey Feb 19
Reveling in
Simple things
Loved before they're gone

Playing down
Entropy
For the moment
We should let it go

Aware of
All the things
Thing's I can't control

In finding
Evidence
Of another
Brighter type of dawn

Out here
Past the point
Never quite alone

Resonate
In bitter sweet
Little moments
In the undertow

Aware of
All the things
Thing's I can't control

In finding
Evidence
Of another
Brighter type of dawn
DYN Jan 26
Perhaps he’d write about his heroine ?
The one he sketches in his stories
Split between being a spectator, or a participant
His mind is dark, void of sentiment
Is that a lie he tells himself ?
May be or may be not


A loveless soul he says, yet his heart seems to yearn for affection
Mouth saying something, but
Expression and actions betray thy lips
What made you so cold ?
Why do you feel so undeserving?
You’re perplexed because even you can’t answer this


Slowly he builds a monster he seems unable to tame
Briskly this costume he has designed fits to skin perfectly
A villain he has become ; this time it isn’t fiction
Would his heroine become a reality?
Do I really need heroine in this story, he says
May be or may be not
ThatBrokenOne Jan 25
There hasn't been a day gone by
Without a thought of you
Every day again
Every hour again

There hasn't been a day gone by
Without a thought of the past
What we did
What we wanted

There hasn't been a day gone by
Without a thought of the here and now
How much I hate it
How much I resent it

There hasn't been a day gone by
Without a thought of the future
What it would have looked like
What we would have done

There hasn't been a day gone by
Without my mind being ****** up
Every day again, I torture my self
Every ******* day again, I wish I could travel back in time
You warned me
I did not listen
Nor did I want to

Stranger from the past
Be gone without my heart

You told me exactly what you wanted
Build my truth
'Till it be a skyscraper
Only to shake the earth
Only to see it all fall around you

Built my appreciation for the sky
Climbed to the top of the highest land
Assured me that I could fly
"Till you chose to chop off my hand

The sky ain't so celestial
Not so angelical
You lied about the sky

You made it seem so light
But everyone knows
the skin of the earth
it weights more enough

Built my admiration
made me believe I could hug the sky
Then you let gravity take care of it all

Fallen
From the tip of your tongue
Fallen
From Eros' edge of his bow
*From Ancient Greek poetry. He carries a bow and an arrow and intrudes in loving affairs (Yes, same thing as cupid)
(I had sold my soul
& the price was cheap)

Still soaking up trouble, like rain in the dirt,
I’m blessed to anyone I get to know,
no-one can be called the Devil, I’ve peaked
behind the curtains, no-one else comes close,
when you’re someone special, you’re either
loved or hated, rarely in the middle.
Reality doesn’t wait for anyone, when you
see someone you love die in the mist,
I’ve been told there will days like this
& it’s silly to pretend, that one’s sins won’t
be accountable for, but we commit, repent
& continue, I guess it's the way things go,
& I knew my cousin was on junk, I blessed
to see twenty-four. Grew up, grew apart,
to our surprise, I got my than five years,
started with poetry & spreaded out with it.
Still people think I’ve got to act only for the block,
where they only see me in the poems I write,
with needles & bourbon, fooling around, like magic
I got up & got out, like I snap my fingers.
Since early days of life, we’ve been friends, now
I see the Devil in your grin, hatred in your eyes,
Satan in your lies, it’s like snakes in disguise.
So how come, you talk with bitter & spite?
It’s my fault for what you’ve done with your life?
We barely embrace, can’t even look at in my face.
zsazsa Jan 22
Because of you I hurt another
Who could have been my first true lover
Brad post Jan 15
I’ve held onto this too long,
and it’s killing me inside.
The self-entitled *******,
that we selfishly call pride.

My every waking moment,
every irrational thought,
every time that I blamed others,
for what my decisions brought.

Ya I have a problem,
and everyone’s seen,
but that is no excuse,
for the way that I have been.

I’ve been a harborer of hate,
till my cup overflowed.
I invited **** in,
and if you knew me then it showed.

I shut myself off,
and told myself that no one cares.
I stopped worrying bout others,
and stayed out of their affairs.

I was selfish, and ******,
thinking only of me,
till the poison turned inwards,
on the me I used to be.

I’ve never hated someone,
so much as what I’d become.
The hypocritical *******,
of all that I’d done.

I know it might be too late,
but I still have to try,
because if the poison remains,
then I’m going to die.

I can finally see clearly,
and maybe that’s fate.
Either way I’ll find out,
so goodbye hate.
Em MacKenzie Jan 14
I have never considered myself weak.
Physically, I have nothing to fear,
I believe myself capable of defending myself from any violent attack that may ever come.
Believing in your own strength is half the battle, after all.
I also rest on the assurance that I will die fighting if need be,
where not many would risk that chance, or persist to have to ****** someone.
I will die on my feet, I will die fighting,
I am afraid of nothing that can hurt my skin.

But,
and there always is a but,
I am terrified of that which can hurt me internally.
You can’t fight feelings,
you can’t hold your own against
love, or sadness, anger or betrayal.
I loathe being vulnerable,
especially when no one attempts to convince you there’s nothing to be afraid of.
Atleast they haven’t lied about that.

I have had women who have left me abandoned in glass boxes,
who have turned on a tap and let the water flow and fill up the space,
promising me they would return when the water touched my chin.
Acting as if it was an a show of affection, providing me with a warm bath to soothe my soul.
But they’ve left, I drowned,
and once discovered, not one could bother to administer CPR.
They gave no condolences to what family I have left,
nor show up to the funeral,
they did not even shed one tear.

But yet, years later they seek out my headstone,
hesitating at the wrong plot because they couldn’t bother to learn the correct spelling of my name.
But they would dig me up, pry open my coffin,
and gently part my decomposed eyelids so they had someone’s eyes staring only at them.

If you **** someone,
atleast have the decency,
to let them rot in peace.
Just slightly bitter today. No big deal.
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