Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
badtaste May 6
I can smell a smoldering flame grow inside your home
I know this is really crazy
but if I help you you'll be saving me
you unwind my swarming thoughts
I over think
but I'm not over you
I've been burnt too
if it can start with a sorry I'll say them all
I don't want this to be the tragidety that ends our epic love story
v.2019
Samantha Nguyen Jul 2018
we kissed.
"are you happier now." you said.
nobody's ever going
to
          love
                    me.
but at least sadness doesn't devour me as easily.
i got thoughts to banish the
          sadness
and
                    pain.
the only thing i've ever wanted was for someone to love me.
it's a tragedy.
this is a love story that will end like r + j.
but unlike shakespeare, my brain isn't dead.
i will fight for love like the capulets and montagues.
i will die for this love to last.
and i will do anything just to make you happy.
but yet,
                    i'm
still
          not
loved.
it's impossible for someone like him, my romeo whose eyes are darker than the night sky,
to fall for a vulnerable juliet, who on the inside is a weak, emotionless girl who doesn't ever
get
what
she
wants.
when will you love me.
Laura Jul 2018
People tend to think it's an act
When you want to **** yourself
And it kind of is
You have to put on an act every day
In order to get through basic ****
Showering,
Eating,
Social interactions,
It's all an act
But you still want to die
That part most definitely isn't an act
That's the most real part of you
The deadest part inside
Is what's keeping you alive

The attention seeking *****
Seeks attention
Because they wonder if anyone actually gives a ****
Or if everyone else is putting on an act, too
Because if all the world's a stage,
And we're all just acting,
Then why not **** off some characters
Shakespeare got rid of Romeo and Juliet
And they were still famous
They were still the stars
And if you can be the star
But still be dead
Then why keep on living
When you're already dead inside
May Elizabeth May 2018
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal ***** of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
This poem/sonnet is the prologue to Shakespeare's famous play, "Romeo and Juliet." I obviously did not write this, but I love it. Thank you.
Renee Danes May 2018
The farthest point
Of beauty seen
By all most fair
Not in between

Do not forget
By means or measure
This beautiful sight
Of richest treasure

For fast in heart
Thou seek to find
The beauty of
The one in one's mind

Is thou not drawn
By such a sight
Of beauty grand
Who's heart is light

And care free to
I may's well add
But I shall allow you
To be sad

For she won't wed
She'll never marry
And now the burden
Of love you'll carry

Go find a maiden
As pretty as she
And you and her
Forever will be

For the price of love
Is up to rent
The bearing sadness
Of Romeo's lament
In my English class were doing a play on Romeo and Juliet, this is where he loves Rosaline and cannot get his mind off her...  Just a thought about the first part of it.
Lily Flower May 2018
Everything has a way of going awry
profound changes have to tell a story
How air may freeze and earth drown
in ashes of snow and tumble down
Lilies may turn red and violets green
All the opposite of what we have seen
I cannot stand against nature's will
With all these dreams I yet have to fulfill
All that foreseen, but dear love!
To the moon and heavens above
I swear my love for you does end
When Gods die with no love to lend.
Hasty midnight scribbles for an old woud, old friend, old love...
Laura Warner Jan 2018
One look was all it took
For my heart to become yours
One smile was all I needed
To know I had found the one worth keeping
Years may have past
But how my love only grows daily
I’m not sure how I can say this
But you are the one I always needed
The one I have always longed for
You were the connecting dots of my broken heart
The only one to really save me.
You are the missing pieces
Of the jumbled puzzle I call my life
You are the light that guides me home
When I’m feeling all alone
For you are my Romeo
My little dream
My life
Bee Jul 2017
fall softly, my love, for i have missed
the sweet caress of rain against my calloused skin
free from careless storms, i have found in you a love that demands to persist
an enormity so grand that is our wonderful sin  
of which we once tucked behind dreaming eyes
now, at long last, had bloomed into reality
and as we stumble further into love we shall publicize
an act as pure and vulnerable as you loving me
for angel, you shine too bright for i to feel ashamed
over cowardly concerns of loving openly
and through everything we have both proclaimed
that despite the odds, the best way to love is outspokenly
we carry the weight of our past regret
and yet, we dare to love, my juliet
Wk kortas Mar 2017
His oaths were all crimson passion,
(Oh, fleeting, evanescent boy!)
But were simply passing fashion,
Discarded like some broken toy
Put on or off as he saw fit
(Not employed for some higher good:
The fondling of some harlot’s ***,
The plucking of some maidenhood.)
Prolifigate in the bedroom
In constancy, he remained chaste
Cast in the role of a bridegroom
The play’s ending he brought in haste
(I say this without levity;
Forever is but brevity.)
Francie Lynch Jan 2017
She's a messianic complex,
She's way too self-absorbed;
She's not the centre of the universe,
Nor the orbit of my world.

She's not lit beneath the spot light,
She's not the colours of a rainbow;
She's not the sun or inconstant moon,
Nor the North Star of my nights.

She's not the compass for direction,
Nor the warm winds of my winters,
Or the cool rains of my summers;
But she's my predilection,
It may sound misconstrued;
It may be a prediction,
It may as well be true:
*It's hard for me to live this life
If life's not lived with you.
"inconstant moon" was used in R&J;, somewhere around Juliet blathering on about not being compared to a moon. Romeo should have figured it out then.
Next page