Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Look in to my eyes
What do you see?
Can you see the pain I've seen?
Can you see the places I've been?
Can you see the people I've known?
Can you see how much I've grown?
Can you see that I'm alone?
Always
Can you see?
Green and gold dancing around the inky black
My pupils
In brightness contracted
From the light refracted
Giving substance to what stands before me
Can you see?
Despair and joy
Balancing in a brutal ballet
Brawny and brittle
Becoming barely blissful
A benevolent boquet
Of clover
Is this over?
No
My eyes have seen beauty
Perceived pain
Punished by pleasure
And pleasured in anguish
Can you see?
The person standing here
With eyes swimming
In a sea of green
Steven Forrester Dec 2018
A pin drops
Sending waves of nothing
Into my cold heart
I grow colder
As I fall apart
The deepening darkness
Drenching me in despair
Drunk and dribbling
Drooling devilishly
Upon the door of doom
Soon, you say
Again
And again
And I wait patiently
Thinking absently
And then....

Cautiously waiting
A cacophony of cries
And a craving carrying
This cornucopia of craziness
I'm callow
Or so they say
Is this my life?
Is this my way?
Kind words
And actions
Melt mere sections
Of this muscle
But so far
It's not enough
And then......

Breathe in my soul
My very essence
Take in my life
My effervescence
I am champagne
Bubbles on the surface
But bitter inside

And then.....

I ask why.....

And then....

I beg to die....

And then....

I say goodbye...
Steven Forrester Dec 2018
Some times I wonder
Some times I think
Some times I ponder
Am I on the brink?
It seems so simple
But is it really?
A heart is delicate
And mines the epitome
It's barely holding together
In a messed up jury rigged state
Made presentable
With safety pins
And a lot of tape
When ever I start to feel
The way she makes me
I think is this real?
'cause it feels like a dream

I want to know
What makes her tick
I want to know
What makes her sick
Somebody better check me
Quick

I'm catching feels
And I can't catch my breath
My heart thumps
And I reel

Feeling feathery
Frightfully fearing
While furiously fighting
Figuratively of course....
This finesse at finding
Fiery finality

Kind of makes me hesitate
So commiserate
Emancipate
And resuscitate
Let's conversate
And enjoy the ride
stopdoopy Jun 2018
Letting you go to be happy.
A worthy cause in my heart.
If only it didn't hurt so,
but I can let you go.
We can remain how we were
I can be happy this way too.
On that day,
I became a pearl
instead of a rose.
low key steven universe/irl inspired ok bye
Steven Stevens Oct 2016
I put the paper in the printer every day
I put the paper in the printer every way
When the ink run low
And they jam the envelope
The boss man call me up and then he say

MARIA! MARIA! THE INK RUN LOW
MARIA! MARIA! I JAM THE ENVELOPE
MARIA! MARIA! I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO
JUST PUT THE PAPER IN THE PRINTER AND THEN I PAY YOU
JV Beaupre May 2016
"So why are you painting a woman in a bottle?"
The challenge. Handling all those quirky reflections and layers of transparency.

"She has phantom arms and legs, what about that?"
Yes, pretty cool. A Vitruvian woman in a bottle. *

"I'm looking for Meaning: Don't paintings look under the surface?"
You mean, what does it mean, really mean? It's just a way to test my skill.

"But what are you saying with that?"
It's not feminist nor anti, it's just an exercise. Besides, there's a rope.

"But aren't you, as an artist, exposing reality, presenting emotions and feelings, seeing the soul?"
I'm not on a soapbox-- I'm testing my skill-- I paint and don't think about it too much. After all, 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar' or is it 'just a smoke'?

"I don't like your message."
OK, I'll paint you in a bottle...
As a shrunken head.
On the other hand, I once painted an agricultural scene based on a photo from the 1930s that I thought carried a social message. Most people wanted to know what kind of tractor it was.
Margaret Jul 2014
I saw you for the last time
before you left for Georgia
we hugged in the hotel hallway
people walked by, we didn't care
what they thought of us.
It felt like it was just you and me.

I mumbled into your chest, "You smell good"
"It's Old Spice" you said "now whenever you smell Old Spice you'll think of me"

Now you're gone, and I probably won't see you again ever in my life.

I'll see you when I stand in the aisles
In the store looking for Old Spice
So I can smell you again.
I miss him so much.
Margaret Jul 2014
I yearn to put my head
On your chest
And inhale your delicious old spice.
You smelled good.

— The End —