Our love story
is written
with blood,
that's why
it hurts.
you are the composer
of my
eloquently written sonnets
the fingers that gently pluck me
on a heavy violin
the muse behind my intricate ballads

- katrina ******
instagram: @wordsbykatrina
twitter: @_wordsbykatrina
tumblr: wordsbykatrina.tumblr.com
fatxma 7d
am·ne·sia here to stay
am·ne·sia wont go away
A broken glass i don't remember
A broken heart full of fear
A work place with a hammer
am·ne·sia wont go away
Was i born on a tree?
A bee with clear honey i see
am·ne·sia  here to stay
Will time break it away
Will time set me free
Oh! am·ne·sia you treated me with misery
am·ne·sia a look of agony
am·ne·sia so plain
tbh i try really hard to write poems this is from my head
but weird fact  about me is that i can write good poems when i'm in a bad mood only.
he came to me in a dream,
     demanding to read the books she's written
the words authored from a time when she
     explored the cosmos concocted from the
     confined crevices of her consciousness
to see
these fantastical realms
spun into creation
but where
did she get
these great worlds from
what parts of the universe
did she see
to get a glimpse of ***

- katrina ******
where did she go when she fell asleep?

instagram: @wordsbykatrina
twitter: @_wordsbykatrina
tumblr: wordsbykatrina.tumblr.com
Lee Aaun Jan 4
And i had choose you;
in a hundred lifetimes,
in thousands galaxies,
No matter, which
fairytale will be
written for me in
my destiny.
I will choose the path
that lead me towards
our fairytale.
Like our old one.
Brynn S Nov 2018
Words shift
They dissolve
Melting onto pages
Sinking into skin
Each piece faded
Never to return
All memories lost
None to return
Lynnia Oct 2018
a life in words,
the edges blurred
sync what you’ve read
with what you’ve heard

though limbs may tire
and mouth’s a liar
the dancing pen
is still on fire

in the Real,
tongue can’t reveal
just what the heart
is prone to feel

yet the ink-stained mirror
makes truth appear
and sets free the doubt
the mind so fears
Maegan deme Oct 2018
people have written about everything,
nothing has been left to be found.
I've tried to find what wasn't left over,
but it's gone.

there's been poet's and scribes,
prophets and writs;
but they're gone,
for now.
until another one reincarnates.
again.

love is nothing new to us.
and war never changes to.
but what we write is just rhetoric,
maybe that is too.

what's written makes no sense.
but there's no more writing to found.
weird how i'm writing
what already seems so profound.
we've reached everything, but haven't found the end.
is writing just a super-task of infinitesimally unfinished words. or do you have to furnish all the poems with fancy oak and gold
Danielle L Cook Oct 2018
I once knew this boy
who would walk miles and miles
just to understand
the reason she'd smile.

She thought long and hard
about being his girl,
but decided that he
just wasn't made for her world.
Ivy Leigh Sep 2018
Step 1: Make a list. Throw out list. NEVER do anything on the list.

Step 2: Observe the state of your room, it represents your mental state. Do not clean unless you are emotionally prepared.

Step 3: **** the fly in your room. It represents all of your frustrations. Show no mercy.

Step 4: Hurt someone close to you. If you can't be happy, then they can't be happy. Blame everything on them.

Step 5:
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