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when i was ten i discovered these books about summer
it seemed all the chapterbooks were filled with strange stories of girls finding their destiny by the sea as their whole life changed between boardwalk adventures and family urgency, like melodrama in small increments with too much sunscreen
something about one of them specifically stayed with me for years
the cover was of the shore and the sand dollars lined in a row as if waiting to be picked up or maybe had just been put down
something about them gave me the impression that this could be my life
an eternal summer that i didn't have to abandon, the book i didn't have to close, look into the sun and not have to pick my body up from the water
it seemed agreed upon that i could live in a continuous day
nighttime didn't exist and the moon was a name given to my mother's friend
everything was promised warm, my feet would touch pavement while my hair was permanently bleached
but the sunset came and shook my shoulders

2.
i stand in my bathroom
cold and harmless
the window is fragmented so no one can look at your ***** body but it makes everything outside look like when you didn't realize you needed glasses and once you did every memory was post foggy
i could be a dying star or a sun brushing its' rays and you'd never know
sometimes my hands are so clean my nails taste like soap and there's no way to go about it but accepting that

3.
there used to be a fire
and if i had to give it a name it would be Frederick
i don't know when it disappeared or how it even started existing
one day someone asked me if i knew how much wholesale toothpaste cost and my feet curled, i bit my lip so hard in fear i would scream until my throat bled
but that didn't happen instead something burst, not a vein but a sentiment
there were theories i used to develop while i went on dinner dates
i remember thinking of what i now reference as the sangria theory
while we sat and ate pasta and i could feel my head drifting while his eyes sank into the bottom of my shirt
i thought maybe all the people that you meet have no chance but a say
all circumstantial until you find something that harvests your attention
until you slip past the underwear and then nothing feels important anymore
was it ever?
you go separate ways, separate directions
as if in fear of finding something too close to whatever it is you're trying to find because then what would be the point of looking?
there was a fire and now there's a glow and i can't tell which one i like more
There's love in this hate
Passion in the flames
I'll be the monster that hurts you,
The lover of your desires
And you the change that makes me better
To be the guardian and swear to protect you,
Shield you and have you as mine
There's others that deserve you
Your sweet eyes and caring soul
But no one will love as strong as I
We tear down the castle walls
Storm the castle and conquer our siege
Oh of course, darling,
I still love you,
Though you're in his arms instead of mine
- SkullsNBones
View more poems on my instagram
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SGrewal 10h
Everytime we bond
it is so seamless.
Feels as if we are
   walking on water
   laying on clouds
   gliding over reality
   defying laws of gravity
carving out our dreams
for all of the nights
that we fall dreamless.

- S.Grewal
Limem ALi 11h
Will you sing me a song
A song to sleep
A song with a happy ending
So warm and sweet

Will you tell me a bedtime story
A story to sleep
A story with a happy ending
Where lovers meet

Will you tell me a memory
A memory to sleep
A memory to share and remember
A memory to sleep

Will you.. Will you
I cannot fall asleep
Anything with a happy ending
Anything to sleep
Laine Viv Aug 2014
I've told people not to let others
plant flowers inside them,
for they will leave,
and all the loveliness inside them
will wither and die

I've said it as if
it's the simplest thing in the world.

But clearly, it isn't.

And you don't get to choose
who will do it,
when they will,
or whether they will.
You won't feel it when they finally do.

One day you'll wake up
with a garden blooming inside you

until they leave,
and you've got nothing
but tears to water what they've left.
Laine Viv Oct 2014
One moment, you’ll start to realize
how much his touch could melt your skin,

and how his words bled
with empty promises

but could fill your soul,
starving for security, trying to fix the cracks.

And there will be agony,
but you’ll mistake it all for love.

One moment you’ll see yourself in his eyes—
lifeless—buried in tragedies, unable to escape

and there, you’ll stay.
Not in his life, but in his eyes,

burning with catastrophe;
there will be flames, devouring your insides

and you will mistake gasoline for your patience
Laine Viv Sep 2014
We are obsessed
with the idea of building homes
out of flesh and blood and veins,

which are those not solid enough
to get through hurricanes,
and tsunami tides that come crashing,

washing us away to the ocean.

I’ve once stumbled upon
a beautiful spot to build mine,
in which I felt secure in its arms

but storms were stronger than the walls
we’ve built, and not once did I stand
a chance to stop the flood.

My home crashed, and got tired of fighting
calamities, no matter how much I tried
to fix it, to rebuild everything.

My home crashed,
my home left.

Now, never build one inside something
that walks, and talks, and utters you promises
and grows a garden inside your soul

Never build yours inside something
too weak to battle against rain.
Laine Viv Sep 2014
I hear voices somewhere inside my head
telling me that you are not worth writing about
but I wrote about you anyway

There was a fire in me and I feel your touch
igniting more flames, striking my heart,
wanting to explode

My thoughts were raging and everything was a blur,
shadows were dancing before me
but you were nowhere to be found

You are here, but you are not real
I craved to taste your words again,
to replace the aftertaste of what was burning

I chewed on the ashes,
searching for a tang of you, stinging, yet sweet
And I remember your promises,

They tasted like whiskey and tears,
like a drug, running through my veins,
and disappearing into an ocean of wounds and blood
When you left
there were no words
or meaning

Just endless piles of dictionaries.
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