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Garland Baldwin Feb 2015
i used to write poetry
about not talking to you for the weekend,
how the words bottled up inside an hourglass
the seemed to stand still
now time flies
and weeks pass while you forget me


i used to write poetry
about sleeping through sunshine
so i could stay up with the stars
worshipping you
now the moon rises
and i fall asleep in an empty bed


i used to write poetry
about star trek and bad ***
with words that rhyme with ****
just to make you laugh
now times have changed
and the metaphors aren't funny


i used to write poetry
about the beautiful, twisted mystery
that you were to all of the world
except for me
*now the pages are blank
and i don't know you at all anymore
Jazmine Moore Feb 2015
;
It's amazing how one person can touch your heart and you're never quite the same. Sometimes I feel as though I've painted this beautiful picture of you that I can only see; and that's fine because love needs faith. I have faith. I have enough faith for the both of us.
Garland Baldwin Feb 2015
i kissed you a kiss of
see you soon
and i'm gonna miss you;
you kissed me goodbye.
i soared away naively,
gliding on metal wings and
the lift from my own lovesick heart.
it took me months
to understand the sadness in your eyes
and that i was the only one who didn't know
i'd never see you again.
Phoenix Rising Jan 2015
you find me
hauntingly beautiful
on the days
i feel the
worse
i wish i could
share the moments
you love me
the most
with
you
Phoenix Rising Dec 2014
You owe me many nights of sleep
and medicine for making me weak
I can't even breathe anymore
because my lungs are battered and sore
from trying to tell you I love you
Over and over and over
Phoenix Rising Dec 2014
she had weak tear ducts
and he had good gaze control
she hoped for an epiphany that she meant something
but no fairytale unfolded
eventually she grew numb
and he disappeared
Phoenix Rising Dec 2014
She was the home-cooked apple pie I never grew up eating
The drug I never got to favorite
She was the tears I cried confusingly
The oxygen I felt I lacked

She was the poltergeist I saw down my hallway
The illness that manifested into my mental state
She was someone I haven't met but loved, like my father
The magnetic pull I could never reach
Phoenix Rising Dec 2014
It's 4 o'clock in the morning and you breathe "i want you's" into my face that smell like my favorite *****.

I'm not lookin' for a forever, but stay another night.
You are simply a delight to lose myself with.

The people I always fall in love with I have the least fun with.
At least, I can be myself with you and myself isn't much a fan of sobriety.

Carsun, you don't have to worry about girls like myself because we aren't lookin' for serious.

It's hard for me to be serious, it's a drag.
Can I have a drag?

I like the cigarettes you smoke, or maybe you're just a **** smoker.
I guess commercials of good-lookin' people using products do sucker you.

Let's lay here until things start feeling serious and then we can pour another round.
Here's to the nights I won't remember but I know were great.

I hope I won't look back and think how the fun we had together was something special.
Phoenix Rising Dec 2014
Your heart is made of silicone
I know, because it bends and changes form
I shake and I tremble
Because I don't know if you'll love me tomorrow

Your head is made of marble
I know, because it's hard and chiseled a newly mood
I shake and I tremble
Because I don't know if you'll remember me tomorrow

Your eyes are made of rollers
I know, because you never look at me for too long
I shake and I tremble
Because I don't know if you'll find me beautiful tomorrow

Your feet are made of amphetamines
I know, because you always walk away and around
I shake and I tremble
Because I don't know if you'll be here when I wake up tomorrow
Phoenix Rising Nov 2014
I am slowly disintegrating out of the various lives I have been nesting in. I love the comfort of my lifestyles I build inside others until they become horrid and decrepit from abusing "the playground". I am quickly losing grip of my identity. I am changing ever-so quickly. How am I supposed to know the real me? Or are there multiple versions?  I think I need an intervention for the succubus I have resurrected inside of me.  I like who I am, yeah. Sometimes. It's confusing when you play both roles: day and night. I flip like a switch, yet I always feel turned on. Oh, so clever. Patterns are hard to break, guess that is why they call them patterns. I am drained from being both dissociated and overstimulated by life simultaneously.
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