Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
a gale Aug 2014
I wrote about you
And I wrote about you
And I wrote about you

But things have changed
And all those pages I filled
I’ve ripped out
Hoping, maybe
If I rip these pages
I’d be able to rip
You out of my life

*a. gale
i May 2014
walk and fall,
rip the rough,
blue material,
and scar yourself.

a metaphore,
slightly strange
comparing you
to a pair of ripped
jeans,
but maybe a pair
of ripped jeans
will perfectly
suit your
***** outfit.
a very stupid, very bad, and very strange
poem
Martin Narrod May 2014
while I may do you perfectly. the snow angels on gasoline st., did you
see them? All of the houses were dripping wet too, one girl with gold laces on her leopard shoes wore red plastic pants; totally soaked to the bone.

to train ourselves to brave the heat of each others' bodies as we awaken in  one small bed, one small blanket. the both of us yawn. it's so fun to make waffles but neither of us like to eat preference. I love you to death but prefer to brush my teeth alone- one tooth at a time.

embrace your new t-shirt, even though not everyone enjoys a good show of a flock of crows. hand drawn indie wicker-hipster prints. coffee by the pint. you crack me up like vitrifying glass sheens of the individual bubbles in a bubble bath or the ******, glazed eyes of the monsters' eye while a shark attacks.

creaky sounds of bodies mapped by fingers, tickled tummies rippled by listening to witch house singers. you crack me up, count chocula. It's Saturday, I love to laugh while laying down. everybody's funnier when they're laying on the ground. we toast to ghosts.

luminous lengths of birthday candles

lickedidddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd­ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd­dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd                                                            d 0  y0urself as best you can
Daniela Apr 2014
You got under my skin,
and ripped my heart out of my chest.
You lit a match against my skin,
and then stayed to watch it burn.

              * I still cross continents for you.
I'll bring a fire extinguisher next time
i Apr 2014
on my couch,
alone again,
with a cup of tea in
my ****** hands
and a book next to me,
whose pages are missing.
the pleasingly bitter taste
hits my tongue and
i am re-born again.
this poem is just how tea calms you and you feel like a new person after drinking it. at least that's how i feel.
anonymous Apr 2014
My heart is stitched
I no longer feel
Though deep beneath all those veins of hurt
I feel nothing
Nothing at all
But I still hang on
I hang onto people
People who couldn't care less
I seem sad
So simply sad
Though there isn't a word to describe my loss of trust
And lack of love
Because to me
Love is just a word
There is nothing behind it
Because every time I fall for it
I end up getting pushed back down
But back to reality
I've been stuck between two sides
But I no longer am part of any
My heart is torn
And now I have
Ripped stitches

— The End —