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Em MacKenzie Apr 28
She prays, she stays perched on her knees,
but she can’t admit she never receives replies.
All these days, it’s no phase but she never sees,
essentially she’s only talking to vacant skies.

She pleads with her beads, her trusted rosary
but every word falls on deaf ears.
Every night, routine tight, does she include me
or does she only prioritize her deepest fears?

I’ve only prayed once in my life
for something so meaningless most people would forget.
I should’ve saved my “one” for times of true strife,
but I’m a lucky gambler, I had never lost a bet.
Are you there God? It’s me, Emily,
not the one in the past or the future self,
I could ask for a million things but they wouldn’t hold much meaning
but I’ll neglect begging for my fleeting health.

Up, down, left and right,
I personally prefer the Contra Code.
It aids one better in a fight
regardless of the settings or the mode.
They say Sunday’s a time for worship and rest
but I’ve been working all night and my left brain won’t stop flowing.
I guess there’s a lot of things sitting on my chest,
and a certain type of comfort in uncertainty and not knowing.

I dig six feet deep to find the dedication,
and I put my hands together; connecting my fingers.
I can’t help it, I can’t find it, it seems my hesitation
has a will of it’s own, and it always lingers.
I mean no offence to any religious people on this site with this piece, we all believe what we believe, and sometimes things write themselves even when it’s tongue in cheek.
CL Fjell Feb 20
Mouth-foamed tremors
Spineless sinners

Ashe soaked layers
Mindless prayers

Hate thy father
Love, why bother
Sad goes farther

Candle carver
Shapely mother
Child she'll smother
I see thou walking over there,
With a single rose in thine hand,
Hafst thou loved another,
Just as I hafst loved thee?

Why, Randal, must thou leave me so?
I hafst been nothing but good to thee.
I prepare thy food, watch thy children.
I hafst done everything thou hath asked of me.

My heart aches for thee.
Thou hafst pricked it with a thorn.
For thou hafst cast me aside.
I guess thou hafst never truly loved me.

Thou know me the best.
All my dreams and fears.
What I value the most.
How shall I live without thee?
PS Sep 2018
Coffee in hand, she sits on a train
She smells a little like cinnamon and sage.
She hears a voice, her heart in her mouth
It isn’t him, as she fears. Absolutely no doubt.
Amongst the loud hum, she can spy at herself
So sad, so defeated, she’s like no one else.
Tears spring to her eyes as she looks at her screen
She’d been too busy living a Hemingway dream.
She won’t call him again, as he doesn’t care
She won’t let him in when he’s not really there.
She won’t be his last and she wasn’t the first
She isn’t the only girl to get hurt.
So coffee in hand, she’s no longer forlorn
For hell hath no fury like a good woman scorned.
Does it need an explanation?
Poetic T Sep 2018
Her legs weren't stairways
to heaven, for these ladders
       were anything but safe.

Pulled fibres collected
Victims to be caught upon
                    her wondering lusts.

For the best poison was that
   which took time to ****.
   And her bite was anything
   but fast acting upon her prey.

She never charged as much as
      those who were below her class.
              For she was scorned before.

And those who chose her beauty over
         instinct, only had themselves
                                                to blame.

For her man, was a walker of corners,
                      catching eyes of cheap thrills.
       His gift to her was a ring and a death sentence
                                                                        of A.I.D.S..

And now she passes the gift given without consent,
        to those who would choose a vine vintage soured
by gangrene grapes.  They'll all taste her sweetness,
     only to poisoned by its taste after swallowing  it.
Elle Kris Jun 2018
I bloomed like a flower for you.
An annual.
Shanath Mar 2018
We used to wake with the rising sun,
Before the sky could heat up enough
To burn us with her flames.
We would stay up long after the sun died
Every night, long into the stars' play
But we were always busy looking at each other.
The moon was and has to be jealous
Of us,
We took the time we gave to her
To give to each.

Then there were the other dolls
That swung out the door.
You used to be captivated by the sea
And stars,
But I broke your trance
And with your eyes on the ground
You drifted like the smoke from cigarettes.

You were clean before,
Never had a drink,
Never smoked, never catcalled,
For the moon had you,
You were stuck in dreams
But I broke your chains
And had you freed.

Now you use me as a match
To light up your darkness,
To fulfil your hunger,
Your midnight smoking ache
On the terrace,
The filthy parking lots.
You don't care that you are burning me
And I like a fool
Crave your fingers on me
As you strike me against the sand.
Again and again
Then discard me.

I never feared being burnt,
The whole world used to hit me
On me
Like stones rubbed together
To spark fire.
I would light up and ignite
But I never thought
You would bite.

I forgot that all birds in cages
Beg for the sky,
But once freed,
They all come down to litter the streets.
I freed you,
You carried me on your wings,
Made me forget the moon,
The stars.
The fact that I was a planet on my own,
And I tied myself to you
Like I was a lost moon
Surviving on gravity's pull.

You dropped me in a sky-less desert,
The horizon dancing in its own flames.
The sun and the moon collided
And the stars fell like moths
Burnt by desire.
You never did return.

But I was wrong
The world remained intact,
The clouds cried.
It was I
Blinded by the shine of your eyes.
You used to reflect the moon,
The fire of the stars years away.
I am ashes, black char,
On your wings I will be a stain.
So you shook me off
And never returned.

I only wish now
That when I lay well into the noon,
The sky will heat up enough
To evaporate me,
And I will dissolve.

You will feel me in your breath,
In the wind beneath your fake wings,
I will flow into your blood stream,
Block out your lungs,
And you will bleed through your nose,
Cough up black debris of the past.
I hope you will remember me
As the dolls you will collect
With their paper fingers
Falters to revive you.

But I will be deep in your mind,
Corroding your nerves,
Blocking veins and arteries.
And when you ask yourself
What is happening,
You will see my heart that you stole
To save yourself,
Will burst in your own cursed cage
And in your own blood
You will drown.
But God forbid I become caught in your dreams.
I always was a nightmare for men
So I will be no different for you.

Somewhere you did burn me,
I simply took it as a glow.
But you hate ashes
And I have regrets.

But this is the time
When your absence of mind
Lets the match burn your fingers,
And your clothes catch on fire.
But you, unlike the horizon,
Don't dance but wither in pain.

I will seep out through you then
And water the plants.
I will be a garden built
On your ashes.
So many thoughts
Unsaid, unwritten,
I share
And I am afraid
Of thieves,
How can I stay quiet
In this world?
Zauditu Dec 2017
Flipping  flicking  , food searching   through   the dumps
Wanting   to find .....something   ..... anything   to have a munch  .
Days , years ... what I can't recall is what I have .. The only thing that is torn and forced black on my back ..
When I'm seen .. noses and faces twist in pain ..
But I never   noticed  a thing in my little space ..

It's all blank ,  my speeches ,  my appearance   is a ghost .
My sanity and humanity   sank in the same boat , it seems  .
I'm rejected .. A reject that's what I am
With only the company   of the voice inside  my head
SS Apr 2017
im lying here in bed wondering when we will meet again, and angry that i trusted you with words no one else has read.

you took my firsts- my words and touches, and i assumed you would be my last, but you took them and never looked back.

i guess that's why i haven't written on paper since.
Vincent JFA Mar 2017
You don't have to talk
about breaking my heart
like you were just pulling weeds
from the front yard garden,
like it had to be done
before you went about your day
without a **** to give
about what I had to do
to salvage the flowers
that you thought
weren't worth watering.
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