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MG Aug 2018
730
“You were blonde when we met” You said
Lips pulled into Your sinister smile.
“I wanted you so bad.”
Exactly 730 days since our lips met.
But who’s counting?
730 days of trying to leave
But You pulling me back.
Each time hoping for something different,
But ending always the same.
Me, alone.
You with her or her or her,
Or even next to me.
But still: You leaving me alone.
(Until You get lonely).
Do you miss me too? Enough is enough.
B May 2018
my eyes were open for two years
fear, I couldn't close them, even when it was so clear

what had I just signed up for,
you swore, why are we in a civil war

waiting for you to just ******* crash
but with your stash, you're having a blast

drifting away from reality,
carefree, giving me the third degree, you lost me

control couldn't save you
and neither could I
I knew we just both had to survive
I felt weak, but now I know I was strong
my eyes were tired for being open for so **** long

you didn't just crash, you ******* burned
you burned all of your bridges with no where left to turn
flight or fight, fright, I can't trust you without a ******* knife,
I closed my eyes, finally, and I suddenly gained all sight

I didn't need a reason to help you
but maybe I wanted to close my eyes again
maybe I wanted peace, a close to an end

because for two years,
I couldn't close my eyes
so thank you
now I am wise
Brittany Wynn Mar 2015
My textbooks, propped between our knees,
I study how this became
our hot dates and the way I get to lean
on your chest makes me tingly,
shallow-breathed,
but I shift around
so you don’t feel my heart bumping in
between the stillness
of our bodies.

—stillness—

We lay in the same bed and actually sleep;
no squeezing fingers and searching
mouths, but at least our clothes stay on
and I don’t have to search for my nightgown
shoved under wrinkled
sheets, or worry
about ****** wrappers
stuck to my skin.

Finished with our club meetings
and fundraisers, we act like weekend
warriors, clinking bottles in half-lit
rooms, sliding around, laughing
in each other’s faces
and once we’ve smoked our stress
away, I place your hand
under the ruffles of my skirt and kiss
your neck, whispering
                                 I want you
Please touch me
                  I need you
but you put your lips
to my forehead, mumbling
that you’re tired and won’t keep it up
because you’re strung out
on Red Bull and Adderall, promising
we will tomorrow night.
WistfulHope Dec 2014
Do you know what today is?
     Today is the two year anniversary
          Of when I began to confide in you
               On a late night drive back from Barnes & Noble
                    You wanted to buy me dinner
                         So by the light of your dashboard
                              I was forced to explain --
                                   I chose to tell you --
                                        That I had a problem and couldn't eat
                                             And you told me that I'd be okay
                                                  Which I later was
                                                       Up until the day you cut me out
I love you.
I miss you.
Savannah Jane Dec 2014
almost two years,
oh god, two whole years
and you still *******
haunt my mind.
still wake me up at night
breathing heavily,
bathed in sweat,
crying harder than i think is possible,
screaming for you to stop,
hands off,
not yours.
i haven't been
"yours"
for almost two years
and you still
hold a knife
in my chest.
Evan Hayes Oct 2014
It's the day
Of sorrow and grief
it's the day I'm tired
the that I leaped

Today marks two years
Of that time I don't speak of
The day it all ended
The day I wasn't mended

The girl was away
What else could I say
I was alone and afraid
My life wasn't made

My stomach full of lead
It's all in my head
I collapse on the bed
I'm already dead
I'm better now though right....
rained-on parade Oct 2014
I walk these roads as
if I had known that
letter boxes are more like
an ice-box for transplant hearts-
you must move quickly or else
time tames the rest.

Words were like the map of veins drawn
on the back of my hands; I
thought that maybe if I
keep on walking
my heartbeat like a siren beating very fast
could guide me home.

And I am home.
I started writing here two years ago today and I could've never known the journey it would become. I am grateful to the countless people I met on this site- telling me stories about the life they've had and being my family on the rainiest of days.

I love you all.

To the people who inspire me and encourage me to be the hopeless poet that I am.


Kace, TL Sipple <3, Samuel Francois, Traveler Tim, Ed Coles, David, Daniel Lockerbie, Timothy, Paul Anthony Hutchinson,  Majd Shidiac, Bala, St64 and others who read, like, heart, and repost my work like they were philosophies. And I am glad that I can make people find themselves in my work as I find myself in them.

Poetry matters.

What am I but a bottle of ink had you not been the paper I write on?

— The End —