Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Laura 3d
satin shades of ribbon
tie the knot around my heart
more than I wanted to you I've given
it was only half past twelve
but the mice stayed quiet and the pumpkins had all died
**** like Rihanna's fragrance
I feel shocked at our current status
like does he love me?
or was that really fantasy like my mind is playing tricks on me
suspicious minds like Elvis
drunken lies might shelter this
if you fail to turn up sober again I'm done with this
like you were my 'first kiss' it was so pure and selfless
so why am I so selfish when it comes to you?
but hey I guess the sky is still blue
we remain under the same atmosphere
tell me please if you feel this over here
Willard Feb 6
wherever you go, there you are
in a world of silver legacy
where all you feel are
living emotions of memories
you thought were dead;
hands on the dash,
passenger seat,
their eyes are too friendly.

glass ***** that act
like warm pillows, i'm
ready to fall asleep.

no melatonin,
no split palms or slit wrists,
no fever dreams of vision loss
where i'm left a
broken nose bruised beauty.

i'll be a beauty, or something like that,
but i won't be nothing
like i've been recently.
How I always think the event will be the end
Even as they come back, they read the bible in their own hearts
Love each other they do I think But surely I cannot tell
Plaguing thought clouds arrive when she leaves. Is she coming back?
My fears of the dark still are here. What do they contain within the crushing?
Eventually I think I should end.
An Acrostic Poem, focusing on my aversion to change and my sadness. And how one of my crushes switched schools.
Clarissa Ng Feb 1
Can’t you let the sun tint you
And the air wrap round your suffocated
Cant you pretend to drift like a dandelion
Dropping into withered grass
Cant you hold the rainbows in your
Daunting irises
And let the rays beam around your
Fragile heart

Dear you
Made up of intricate bonds
That crumble to dust
Ashes in the firewood
Of hopes and kindling flame

Would you take heart
In the glassy persona
Behind mirrors and closed hearts

Would you reach out your fragile hands
And with shaky fingers
Hold the mountain and skies
In your fingertips
random piece :)
Teenage love
is just
so fake.
Holding you hand,
that I love you,
taking you to a dance,
eating lunch with you.
I think that now,
I am ready
for the real thing.
For someone to say that they
love me
and for them to really mean it
with all of their heart.
Anna Jan 18
I see him every single day. The longing inside of me aches for his acknowledgement. His knowing of my existence.But truly I should hate him. He is a monster after all.  I hide in the shadows of halls and argue with myself. There are people at my school who cannot let others joy pass through their sights. It’s as if their desire is to make everyone else weak so therefore they can maintain their power. But what is power that is taken from negativity? I will never know so therefore I will never speak up. I can’t speak up. No one will ever hear me or see me. No one even notices me unless I fall and cry or break when the teacher calls on me. I’m their daily amusement. My hands are always clenched in agony and my heart is always being ripped into shreds from vain conquests. Despite the tear in my throat my heart beats for the ailing souls of the forgotten. It knows what the others don’t see and hear. Despite my agonizing breathes of air I’m still alive today. How I can still walk with my breaking bones and how I can still see through the foggy lenses society has bestowed upon me is truly beyond me.

I cannot allow myself to speak. Speaking takes energy. I don’t have enough energy to simply express my being and then have my voice heard. My voice is quiet and raspy with edges of cut mirrors and thorny rose bushes. I used to be a lemon tree sweet and sour but golden and sunny as most people expected from me and came to realize and to be simply put that was their recognition. But then the hazy storms of dread pricked my fragile fingers and brought forth blood of ruins. I was ruined. But at first they didn’t care. They wanted to see me for the way they knew me and not the way I had became. How was it fair that she got the recognition from her ex and not I? Not everyone knows of my full story simply because of the sacred secrecy I have been cursed with. He has banished all thoughts of fantasy and left me as a beggar for mercy.
Quiet Justin Jan 17
I'm not too poetic.
I can't rhyme all the time.
I don't know all the right words,
I don't use metaphors or fancy language.

If I did, then it wouldn't be genuine, would it?
I would be trying to fit a stereotype
instead of trying to speak the truth.
Even if the truth is hard to say.

Not that its bad or anything, you're amazing.
Truly amazing.

It's just that I'm not that poetic.
And sometimes I sit in class,
trying to get the courage to say hi.

And forget saying "I love you."
I'm not even sure it is love.
But it is something.
Something special.
something nice.
sahra Jan 16
the place
that exists in the darkness
between days
3 am
lost in songs
that take me far away
please i want to stay
Meredith Ann Jan 14
Legs burning,
Chapped face,
Following the ebb and flow,
Swaying in the familiar dance.

American romance,
Empty pools,
Teenage dreams,
The unknown.

Resting on top of the world,
Watching activity below,
Yet singularity in existence.

Shattering what’s to come,
Turning over past,
Shocked in present.

Familiar tracings,
Rough seats,
Cool breeze,
Triumphant warmth,

The textures,
Soft and rough,
Metrometric rise and fall,
Occasional shifts,
Constant peace,

Spurred by rain and impending eyes,
Rushing on,
Vibrant, brilliant, psychedelic chromatics.
Melting tones,
Air cutting,
The overwhelming, vivid senses of falling in love for the first time.
XyL0S Jun 2018





It does...
Next page