Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zia Mar 2020
what more can I say
when I show you every day
there is no one but you
you better believe it boo
Zia Mar 2020
The whispers from her yesterdays
haunt her everydays
turning her tomorrows
into sorrows
Zia Mar 2020
You lived in my teenage dreams
Nothing has changed, it seems
Your face always dominates
Every time my mind illustrates
You’re still stuck in my head
Even when my heart lies in a new bed
Zia Mar 2020
I didn't think twice
for which I paid the price
Aiming for new heights
I now select my fights
chitragupta Mar 2020
It's been a while
since I've felt her felt tip
scratch through the surface
Deep into my soul
to take me out of hiding

-x-

I remember how we parted
I regret not saying goodbye
And in a text back to a midnight apology
She had promised that she would write

She left an empty canvas
and a naive head full of dreams
and thoughts she never coloured
that festered deep within

I tried to draw her contours,
the little hat she used to wear
and beneath it, to recollect
the texture of her hair

But her pencils betray me
They don't want me to tell her tale
or mine if ever I was part of it
So I chose these words instead

Reams of paper in my cabinet
Meant for her delicate brushes
Black and blue stains of poetry adorn them
Like scars of sin on skin, permanent.

A million Gods to pray to
You'd think I was spoilt for choice
For my devotion was never aimed at them,
perhaps they do not heed my voice

-x-

It's been a while
since I've felt a felt tip
scratch through the surface
That provoked my senses
to come start fighting

I'm hanging on.. I'm hanging on..
But for how long?
The mind is fragile. Thoughts start yet do not finish before others come take their place.
It's chaos.
It's wonderful.

But just not as wonderful as she.
Zia Mar 2020
As I walked away from you
My heart was breaking into pieces
Knowing that I was hurting you
For you turned out to be just another one of my vices


As I walked away
On my mind, a slide of your face
Creasing in pain (or disdain?)

It was child’s play
Nodding to your lies with a straight face
I had to pull the chain

So today
You left me no choice but to grace
you with the truth you thought inane

And as I walked away
I crossed your name off the master race
And out of my brain
Zia Mar 2020
She likes playing with words
Builds beautiful sentences
He likes playing with dolls
Breaks them into pieces
It won't work, it won't work
People smirk
Another love story
Out of the ordinary
She didn't care
Emotions laid bare
To him she whispered
"Give me your word
Promise to love me
Before you destroy me"
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Whan the turuf is thy tour
anonymous Middle English poem, circa the 13th century AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When the turf is your tower
and the pit is your bower,
your pale white skin and throat
only sullen worms shall note.
What help unto you, then
was all your worldly hope?

*

Original Middle English text:

Whan the turuf is thy tour,
And thy pit is thy bour,
Thy fel and thy whitë throtë
Shullen wormës to notë.
What helpëth thee thennë
Al the worildë wennë?

“Whan the turuf is thy tour” may be one of the oldest carpe diem (“seize the day”) poems in the English language, and an ancestor of Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress” with its virginity-destroying worms. Keywords/Tags: Middle English, translation, medieval, anonymous, rhyme, rhyming, medieval, lament, complaint, lamentation, turf, tower, pit, bower, skin, throat, worms, note, help, worldly, hope
Carolina Feb 2020
A blink of words
That can't be said
Or even be written
She is her own poem of thousand words


She is fierce and gentle
All at once
She's a song
An unending, Beautiful song.  


She is a sparkle
She is a shine
She is the only thing
That i want to call mine

She is my everyday
And my every night
She is every morning
And my every twilight


She is all i know
She is all i see
She is a sweet melody
She is my unmatching rhythm


She is the firefly dancing in the moonlight
Zia Feb 2020
"You are beautiful", says the mirror.
My mind sneers, "Here's another liar."
Next page