Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alex McQuate Jan 18
Yellow lines blurring past
in rapid succession like a stream of tracers
wind tearing at hair and shaded eyes
a radiant warmth from the sun huggin' the back of the neck and shoulders
racing to catch up to this wanderer's position
cursing at this lowly traveler for getting the drop on it


You know... if you spoke "sun", I guess.
(Look I know the metaphor kind of got away from me on that one, my bad.)


Regardless, where were we?
(Lines....wind.... sun metaphor.... here we are)
This lone wanderer from the ancient east
where man and land alike were choked with smoke and rusted through
(Yeah, people love that shift from normal to proto-fantastical, hero's journey and all that jazz...)
Seeking outstanding territories
untouched, ******, and new
...
...

(Does proto-fantastical even sound right? I guess that works in the sense that it alludes to some kind of ancient civilization of peoples, taking place in some fantasy realm. That reminds me, I need to check that idea I jotted down when I was at the market so I wouldn't lose the idea if I forgot it. Which I did, so hooray for good habits! ........ Why are they staring at me? OH ****!)

Sorry about that!
Totally my bad, continuing on...

(Where the hell was I?)
...
And the Wanderer enjoyed these lands? The end!

(NAILED IT!!!)

......
......

(Why are they looking at me like that?)
Riley OHalloran Jul 2020
The ocean is not always blue—
sometimes it’s black,
intimidating and secretive and deep—
that being said, your eyes are full
of the sea over a trench at night,
and I am a diver,
not afraid but enticed.
Hollau Mar 2018
I was once a carefree and playful child
one who watched movies, and as a result  
grew up learning there was a love interest
in every scenario
I saw character development and watched
as the former loser would overcome their own fears
and get the beauty
every **** time.
they gained their confidence, plus
a partner in crime to share their new life with
as they shared a passionate kiss
and rode happily into the sunset

I grew with these false premises in my mind
as I waded carefully through the torrential downpour
of emotions in my angsty adolescence
I wasn’t yet confident enough in myself to imagine
someone by my side to share my suffering
but I thought that one day, I would be
and they would reach out to me
as suddenly as they had on tv

the former loser was never my path to follow.
I am ending my teen years as a different trope
the confident girl who doesn’t need anyone else
she knows her flaws, but loves herself endlessly,
but this is where the storyline fails.
I still walk with my head high,
but I have yet to attract my match
with the personality everyone boasts will be enough
it’s not.

it’s never enough.

it’s time for film to be a little more ******* accurate,
but maybe that’s why we love it so much?
It shares the stories that we may never know,
in a world so full of desire,
yet so devoid of passion for one another.

Cheers to you for seeking your sunset lover.
I’ll be waiting in the club of broken hearts  
when reality shatters your hope
and leaves you to live the same path
as I.

Maybe then it won’t be so lonely.
rb Aug 2017
Dear Manic Pixie Dream Boy,

You’re weird.

You like to dance badly to Michael Jackson. The Beatles are your idols. You’re a miracle worker when it comes to procrastinating projects. You choose to be Murdoc over Nightwing any day. A phone is a necessity you chose to live without. A good-looking leather jacket is among one of the many things you’d want in life. You have a vintage camera collection and your house has ninja swords that no one really uses. You let others borrow your bikes, and are not afraid to punch someone who’s a threat…

… and that’s why I like you.

I like the way you accept my flaws. I like the way your curiosity takes over every inch of space you’re in. I like how it’s so easy to talk to you, no matter how mundane the questions are. I like how you don’t judge my preference for long, critical words. I like how you value opinions a lot, and think them through. I’ve asked for your help too many times to count, and you don’t show any signs of being tired about it. I don’t know if you notice the way your face lights up when you talk about the things you love, because it’s blindingly endearing. It’s precious that you have a checklist of things to do before you die. Each word that comes from your mouth seems so genuine and sincere.

I could go on and on about the little things that make me so enamored with you… but I know I’m not supposed to like you.

Labels are a possessive sign to you, while labels give a sense of stability for me. Your nocturnal ways and my early-bird persona will clash eventually. I like finishing things early, while you wait ’til the last minute. Disney doesn’t exactly mesh well with the Gorillaz. Your stubbornness and mine will be our downfall, despite the numerous petty debates we’ve had so far.

I’m still glad you’re my friend.

I mean, that’s what we are, right? Friends? I mean, friends sit on the curb of the street and listen to how each other’s days went, right? Friends stay up until the late hours of the morning to talk about life through audio calls, right? Friends go to the park in the middle of the night together without their parents knowing, right? Cute nicknames as we wish each other good night is a friend thing, right?

Right. I forgot. Labels are a possessive thing to you.

I’ll try to stop checking Facebook for every chance you’re online. I’ll try to make our talks less about personal things, because I think only my labeled “boyfriend” should know them. Forgive me for trying to keep my distance, because I’m sure that I’ll only fall harder the more I get to know you. You’re probably starting to get weirded out by my strict, depressed lifestyle, anyway.

I hope that one day you’d find The One who would change your life. As much as I’d like that to be me, I know it’ll be someone else.

Signed,

The Snooty Protagonist
Best to write things down before it eats me up inside, honestly.
blue mercury May 2017
she who wanted to be
more
than a pretty face
and soft skin

/

nothing more
than a fading
daydream-
sick

— The End —