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Tyler Jun 23
Beautiful garden
Don’t ever change
Water your flowers
And don’t rearrange
Keep your distance
From flowers and fury
From roses and sadness
Sunflowers and grief towers
Don’t stop to smell them
Lie down and dwell
Lie down, cherry plum
Lie down, cherry plum.
Cherry plum sweet as whiskey
Whiskey cold as fire
That’s you, cherry plum sweetheart
That’s you, cherry plum love.
h bridgeman Apr 2018
i couldn't tell you that what
i feel for you is love.
the only reason behind that is
because i have no experience
in what love actually is.
i've never had feelings reciprocated.
i've never been kissed.
never be touched intimately.
i can't say i'm in love with you because
i do not know what love is.
however, i can tell you that you're the
only thing i think about.
looking at you makes my heart feel
warm and every conversation with
you feels like it will be my last.
a smile from you can be the only
thing that will get me through the
day.
i don't know if i love you but i do
know that i care so much about
you that it makes my heart hurt.
h bridgeman Apr 2018
sometimes i think that i'm over you.
and then i'll see your face somewhere
and it'll make me hold my breath and
make my heart pound at a million
miles per second.
sometimes i think that i'm over you.
and then you'll smile at me slightly or
say my name softly and suddenly i'm
head over heels all over again.
sometimes i think that i'm over you.
and then your next to me, talking to me
and my whole body freezes up and the
world slows as i watch your lips move.
sometimes i think that i'm over you.
and then you be you and i can't help
but rip my heart out and hand it over
to you once more.
h bridgeman Mar 2018
dear you,
if i could say these words to your face without
stumbling over my tongue and spewing a mindless
combination of 26 different letters, then i would.
but, me being me, i can't seem to look at you without
a knife dragging from my heart to my toes and
my tongue falling out of my skull like a dog that ran a mile.
i wish that i could speak to you the way that
i write about you.
i wish that my tongue would form words like my fingers
do when they type or write or draw.
i want to express myself to you. to your face instead
of hiding behind a screen, sending a message
to tell you how i feel.
i may have a way with words but i do not
have a knack for speaking them.
h bridgeman Mar 2018
the very ground you tread on changes colour with every step you take.
you create art wherever you go.
everything you do is art.
everything you say is art.
you are art.
you're entire being is made up of different patterns, colours, shapes.
and every single part of you is so ******* beautiful.
i want to frame you.
take a picture.
paint you myself.
because i'll be ****** if someone can find art that is prettier than you.
h bridgeman Mar 2018
there was something about the sun
that made me think of you.
it could be the glow of your eyes,
or the heat of your skin,
or the warmth of your gaze when
you look at certain things.
the sun also hurt.
it was too hot to touch and it
burned you if you were in it's
presence for too long.
you burned me.
you burned my skin and my
heart and my soul.
you make my eyes sting with
tears when i look at you for too
long.
you are so much like the sun,
beautiful. but dangerous
i have an insta (dwarfplanetz) were i post some of my works. feel free to check it out
traces of being Feb 2016
.
Musical brush strokes paint
               the pink honey moon
               full and bright ;

the melody wafts lightly
               with a sensual scent
               of Jasmine fleur

Lonely hearts sip the sky’s
               lambent elixir’s gentle persuasion
from separately dispersed novas

the perennial blossom of the perpetual tide ..,                                       .
               merely pined moonlight

Immersing wholly in wistful reflection
               alight on wellspring emerald pond

Verily unspoken words cavort
               like musical rivulets spiraling flow
into the crystalline echo

Luna’s haloed heavenly sighs ,
               emanation bestrewn
               shimmering through dark nebula

like shooting stars shattered
               by the weight
               of their darkest radiance,
echoes upon the tide-less mirror pond

               the nimbus of moonlight
               imbuing all the ways I want you
. . .


wild is the wind ...© 6.17.2015
from a year ago, still longing for the touch of solacing song in the breeze as the waning last winter moon stirs the ache of loneliness
Going Going Gone May 2015
Horror movies flash
I'm jumping out of my skin
Yet still traces of your memory
Soaked in
Can't even peel them away
From my paper thin skin
I love the way I hate you

— The End —