#badideas - Hello Poetry

We go on the Ferris wheel We put our kids on the Ferris wheel When can we claim We are the ******

0

Oct 1, 2025

Oct 1, 2025 at 6:16 PM UTC

breeaudrey

It is Bluster, Buster

We go on the Ferris wheel We put our kids on the Ferris wheel When can we claim We are the ******

4

darling, loving me is falling apart with octobers and kissing your poems goodbye. it is watching autumns unfold while slipping into the tracks of a freight train. i will kiss your skin, all chapped lips and sweetened cigarettes, my hands on your neck, as if feeling the walls of an athenian ruin. i will be every distinctive silhouette in a film, every line in a song, every secret spilling gracelessly off your lips before you catch yourself. i will set you on fire and you will burn; all wide-eyed and irises made of the storm, beneath my feather light touches. i have a proclivity for breaking hearts and you will find yourself neck-deep in whirl of heartbreaks and headlights — all moonstruck and confused. i will break you — destroy you, bit by bit, in the most elaborate, exquisite way, that you will know one thing, darling — chaos has a tendency to look beautiful.

0

Oct 11, 2019

Oct 11, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC

femininedeath

this is the red flag

darling, loving me is falling apart with octobers and kissing your poems goodbye. it is watching autumns unfold while slipping into the tracks of a freight train. i will kiss your skin, all chapped lips and sweetened cigarettes, my hands on your neck, as if feeling the walls of an athenian ruin. i will be every distinctive silhouette in a film, every line in a song, every secret spilling gracelessly off your lips before you catch yourself. i will set you on fire and you will burn; all wide-eyed and irises made of the storm, beneath my feather light touches. i have a proclivity for breaking hearts and you will find yourself neck-deep in whirl of heartbreaks and headlights — all moonstruck and confused. i will break you — destroy you, bit by bit, in the most elaborate, exquisite way, that you will know one thing, darling — chaos has a tendency to look beautiful.

3

she was just another poet who wrote late night proses about smoking ten cigarettes in one sitting, and climbing closed gates at 1 am and other bad ideas — bad ideas like him.

0

Oct 3, 2019

Oct 3, 2019 at 10:25 PM UTC

femininedeath

mica

she was just another poet who wrote late night proses about smoking ten cigarettes in one sitting, and climbing closed gates at 1 am and other bad ideas — bad ideas like him.

11

lost souls don't end up in asphodel meadows, honey — they end up in your apartment; a messy, poorly-lit place. or so i did. our systems filled with nicotine and other bad ideas i will for sure regret. well, truth be told, you're mine to regret. well truth be told, you're not. but there we were, flung in a den of frenzied kisses — skin next to a black hole, a black hole next to a skin guess we'll never know which is who. but tonight break me — we both know this isn't your watching-sunset-and-gazing-at-stars type of love. so tonight stain me, and i'll call it a pseudo-romance, darling and maybe after, we can smoke cigarettes or watch the city fall asleep or stare at each other's empty eyes; maybe somehow that's more of our style darling, than staring at the sunrise is. but at this moment i know, in this poorly-lit place, dripping roofs, ***** sinks, that i will waste my words writing beautiful poetry for you, even if i'm not that beautiful myself. even if you're not that beautiful yourself. even if we're not that beautiful ourselves.

0

Jul 8, 2019

Jul 8, 2019 at 2:03 AM UTC

femininedeath

asphodel

lost souls don't end up in asphodel meadows, honey — they end up in your apartment; a messy, poorly-lit place. or so i did. our systems filled with nicotine and other bad ideas i will for sure regret. well, truth be told, you're mine to regret. well truth be told, you're not. but there we were, flung in a den of frenzied kisses — skin next to a black hole, a black hole next to a skin guess we'll never know which is who. but tonight break me — we both know this isn't your watching-sunset-and-gazing-at-stars type of love. so tonight stain me, and i'll call it a pseudo-romance, darling and maybe after, we can smoke cigarettes or watch the city fall asleep or stare at each other's empty eyes; maybe somehow that's more of our style darling, than staring at the sunrise is. but at this moment i know, in this poorly-lit place, dripping roofs, ***** sinks, that i will waste my words writing beautiful poetry for you, even if i'm not that beautiful myself. even if you're not that beautiful yourself. even if we're not that beautiful ourselves.

37