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WistfulHope Mar 2017
Breathe me in like your last cigarette,
because you swear you're going to quit,
as the smoke swirls past your head
and heads east.

Drain my cup like the last coffee
you pour yourself, even though it's 11 pm
and you really should go to bed soon
because you never sleep enough.

Color between my lines like you tried
to show your little sister, when she stole
your colored pencils and scribbled
all through your sketchbook.

Give me the kind of attention you give
sunset on the beach,
because someting about it makes time stop
and brings you peace.

Love me,
even though the only time you ever thought
love just might be more than a fa├žade or a con
left you detached and empty.

Love me,
because I promise
I'm already trying
to love you.
Verbs.
WistfulHope Mar 2015
If I gave you my hope
Would you burn it

Not dark at the edges
But clean through
Until there is nothing
But the ashes of
What once was

Purified in fire
Damaging, destroying
What you sought to
Glorify now gone
... but I'm not.
WistfulHope Jan 2015
i suppose i am composed
of some of my mother
and parts of my father
no matter how i try to shed them both
i am warped by premature exposure
to prostitution and *******
my veins are ***** from
the needles i don't use
and my head is clear from
the pills i don't take
painted skin covers
the pale emptiness
my skin as a canvas
that all too accurately reflects
the blank white nothing inside of me
cruel hope after hope that's been
left to disappoint
disapproval of myself end to end
fiber to fiber is deemed inadequate
so focus outward forget about this body
how to impact the world
how to change the world
how to fix the world
I don't know, okay? It was an attempt. :I
Thanks to konr and Creep for putting this out.
- - -
Guys, I got a new twitter, am I "hip" yet?
WistfulHope Nov 2014
Thanks for the less-than beautiful breaks.
Thanks for the leaving leaving leaving.
Thanks for empty promise on top of empty promise.
Thanks for the words, every name I believe is true.
Thanks for the continued surprises, keeping the torment fresh, new.
Thanks for the wicked hope you've given me.
Way to make my night and ruin it with one text.
Steele Jan 2015
I don't know what you think of the word "wicked";
but where I come from it's a funny thing. It doesn't mean evil or sad.
We say "That's wicked cool." It's meaning rings the same as, "That's the ticket!"
Wicked means more; and more hope can't be all that bad.

I guess what I'm saying is, you're "Wicked" nice.
Despite your talent, your wall is full of other people's "Hope".
Vanity is certainly not your choicest vice.
Empathy, perhaps, would better fit the scope.

Your story's still being written down; I'm not sure where that path will stray.
I don't know if it will end in fire or ice- or if either would suffice-
but were Robert Frost here, (and from my home town) he'd say
"I've heard the name. That chick's wicked dope."
Thanks for being Wicked Cool, Wicked Hope
I've been meaning to thank Wicked Hope for being such a caring and kind member of the community, particularly in regards to all the encouragement and empathy she's given me over the past week. Since the challenge is out, it might as well be a public thank you.

In the famous words of Ron Burgundy, "Stay Classy"
Cheers,

Steel
WistfulHope Jan 2015
I wear baggy clothes so that I can feel skinnier.
I reread all of the notes I've saved almost every night.
I write really loopy because it's hard for me to let go.
I close my eyes and imagine things, constantly.
I paint with black because colors are too interesting.
I rub my face when I'm stressed, or I claw at my skin.
I wear my hair over my face so I can't see people staring.
I hate liquid eyeliner, insincerity, and pomegranates.
I love being in the rain because it stings, cleans, drenches.
I want to either die young or marry young, always have.
I try to walk everywhere I go so I can lose more weight.
I wish I remembered how to be happy.
Some things that don't matter.
Jan Harak Jan 2015
Do you really want
your body to be covered in scars
for the rest of your life?
Yes, I hope you will live a long and fruitful life.
And that you would have kids of your own
and stop them from doing the stupid mistakes
you are doing right now.
WistfulHope Dec 2014
Once He (a) was my Two A.M.,
And I tried to make him (b) my Three.

But to be honest, from Ten to Six A.M.,
It's usually just lonely ol' me.
Two and Three are different guys, to clarify.
- - -
Two A.M.
He is my wicked hope.
- - -
If you know what I'm talking about message me.
If you don't, don't waste my time please.
WistfulHope Dec 2014
Out of place and rather uncertain
Lacking instructions, suggestions and a warning
Bouncing about like a toy ball
Uncomfortable with all my tics
I've always felt so quirkily and small

Lacking order and any sense of being,
Feeling out of place, unloved no ones ever hearing,
Broken and bruised from head to toe,
My scars shining bright against the pale white snow,
Just because I couldn't learn to walk straight,


Crooked toothed but grinning
I always feel like I'm sinning
Every time I'm early I feel late
Burnt to a crisp is the price of the flame
I'm just a solo player stuck in this game*

Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint,
Your halo is burning, getting lost in the flames,
Take my hand and join with me,
For we can end the heartache that seems to be,
Lets be awkward together,
There's no one better
I'm bold, he's italics.
(Posted under both our accounts.)
I loved doing this. :)
Andrew Quilles Dec 2014
Out of place and rather uncertain
Lacking instructions, suggestions and a warning
Bouncing about like a toy ball
Uncomfortable with all my tics
I've always felt so quirkily and small

Lacking order and any sense of being,
Feeling out of place, unloved no ones ever hearing,
Broken and bruised from head to toe,
My scars shining bright against the pale white snow,
Just because I couldn't learn to walk straight,


Crooked toothed but grinning
I always feel like I'm sinning
Every time I'm early I feel late
Burnt to a crisp is the price of the flame
I'm just a solo player stuck in this game*

Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint,
Your halo is burning, getting lost in the flames,
Take my hand and join with me,
For we can end the heartache that seems to be,
Lets be awkward together,
There's no one better
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