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Vespa Woman Dec 2020
sleeping sad and looking back at those 1 pictures of you and i, wondering where you learned to smile like that. I remember takeing that picture, you touched my hand and my blood ******* fluttered. you let it go and my skin broke like glass.

what the hell had happened to us? I miss you like a bottle misses wine.

finding and figuring just what I meant I really wish I could make myself understand why.

and that there are people you just can't trust who say they wont lie, that everyone suffers from a broken heart from here to their, and not even rain can forget all those times when you made me laugh and you took my hand the notes the feeling ill never feel that again. I miss you

you're not coming back, and I know that I should just let you go and leave on break, break up break my heart like a vinyl record when you first touch it, everyone gets yelled at when they first touch a vinyl

that's something you said, words of yours tend to do loops in my head, but you never did yell.

whats that really good or bad because i cant really tell you never seemed to cry.
Heres a stuipd ******* break up poem thats just like all the others, i hope everyone on this site has a nice day and remembers that being cliche is ok
twindrill Oct 2020
Do you want to play?, it asks.
You have no choice.
A simple romp in vibrant green fields, surrounded by an impossibly blue sky—

That bottomless pit wasn’t there before.

Do you want to play again?, it asks.
You have a choice. You agree.
You play again, and again, and again.
And you never stop—

—until that cake is yours.
Amanda Hawk Oct 2020
I want to slip
Into Oasis
Become pixelated
Back in the 80s
Watch as all my fandoms
Come to life
I can have coffee
With Molly Ringwald
At The Peach Pit
Before hitting the beaches
Of Costa del Sol
Later check into the Overlook Hotel
To slow dance with Casper
As listen to theme music
Of Castlevania
To pedal a bmx bike
And touch the stars
To hang in detention
With the brat pack
To have my entire life soundtrack
Badly synthesized 80s tunes
I guess I am saying
I want my 2020
A little more Oasis
And a lot less
Black Mirror
Cox Apr 2020
Rich season.
High in value.
Retro gold.
All sunflowers beauty sold.
Kay-Rosa Apr 2019
Yeah, I write poetry.
Poetry is 'lit'.
It's emotion put into words we poets know
can't even begin to express our thoughts.
It's a lyrical dance with rhyme and rhythm and melody
with out the back up.
It's a safe space, where 'Anonymous' can be the most relatable person you've ever experienced.
It's a 'Come-to-Jesus' for some, a 'Join Lucifer's army' for others.
We find poetry through feeling or lack of it;
I found poetry through 'inner pain'.
Some find it through love, hurt, loss, new beginnings and old endings.
So, yeah. Maybe its not super upfront, and decoding the symbolism takes
heart, but, feeling reality will never go out of style.
Ankita Gupta Feb 2019
Open the door
Enter the time that lapsed
Draw out the curtains
There is light from the past
Breathe the air
Dance to the tunes slow and fast
Ride the carriages
Travel to the time of chance
sing me a story
sing me a song
sing me old country
it's where I belong
so sing me a story
and I'll come along
sing me a story
an old country song

Are the lights still out in Georgia?
Is the man in black in jail?
How are things in old El Paso?
Sing a song and tell a tale

Did the devil win his fiddle?
How's the Harper Valley PTA?
Did they ever stop that convoy?
Is he loving her today?

sing me a story
sing me a song
sing me old country
it's where I belong
so sing me a story
and I'll come along
sing me a story
an old country song

Is there a red headed stranger?
What went off that bridge in June?
Did the gambler ever fold them?
What was howling at the moon?

Is Donna Fargo still that happy?
Do you smell whiskey in the air?
Is the circle still unbroken?
Is there an angel hiding there?

sing me a story
sing me a song
sing me old country
it's where I belong
so sing me a story
and I'll come along
sing me a story
an old country song
Pick it up
     Slowly dial

Say hello
     Talk awhile

Bring back old times
     Talk of new

Remember the friendship
     That continually grew

Talk for hours
     And reminisce

Talk of old friends
     That you may miss

Now the bill is increasing
     It's time to go

There will be more times
     To say hello

For it is no big task
     To make a call

Just pick up the phone
     That hangs on the wall
So I wrote this poem back in 1987 for my best friend who my family moved away from. Living so far apart was hard for us so the telephone was out connection.  I was 11.
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