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#badlove
He left her blue roses To commemorate his love Left her notes, Telling her to notice him When she didn't People had to die People who looked like the victim Who deserved to survive But not everything is perfect When predators lurk in the night He stalked her until her wounds had healed Those three little marks That she left on his brow Marring him, molding him Into the scar of a person This stalker really is
0
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 2:35 AM UTC
Stalker
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
this is the red flag
Let's cut the crap and all that sweet **** — we weren't those kind of people. We weren't made for romance and sappy poetries, weren't made for love songs, and cringey sweet nothings and gazing at the sunrise after camping out for the night on a hill. We were made to hold hands and a few almost-kisses during drinking sessions and forget about it the next day, to smoke and lie down a little bit too close to each other on rooftops and talk about depression and anxiety attacks, and deny everything in the morning. We were made for my unsaid "I miss you too's", that want to escape my lips the moment you say your drunken "I miss you's". We were made to see each other break down in between a pack of cigarettes and two bottles of local *** We were more like two ****** up souls recognizing each other; more like two faultlines causing an earthquake and taking everything down with them, more like the first raindrops to fall apart before a thunderstorm, like two planets out of orbit crashing on each other in a brief but destructive way. You see, maybe we're just drawn to people similar to us, and maybe, we're just drawn to each other because we're equally messed up. Maybe it was just the strong urge to save the other that borderlined to romance. But I guess being messed up wears people out, and sometimes I find myself wondering who got exhausted first. Where did the talks about "wanting to die together" go? When did the conversations about our saddest secrets cease? What stopped "Man, loving you is a disaster I won't mind being struck by," from coming? Was I too depressive and sad for you? Were my breakdowns suffocating? Did my fuckedupness stop feeling like home and started looking just plain ****** up? When did you start fading away? Why would you do that? Stupid questions. You should know, it beats the **** out of me to say it, but I was perhaps a little bit desperate for you to stay. Perhaps I got too comfortable with your demons, I almost adopted them as mine. Perhaps the fact that you were willing to give me your ******** all was comforting. Perhaps I was selfish, and I kinda wanted my darkness to be the only darkness you'll wanna light. Perhaps I miss you and it feels like I'm a chainsmoker on withdrawal from her cigarettes, and what ***** more is that I don't even know if I still cross your mind as that same sad girl you were happy being sad with, as that same sad girl who had always been your destination, and the very same one you apparently stopped coming to. And perhaps, thinking about all of these is ******** We weren't some modern-day knight and damsel. You weren't the guy with the beautiful blue eyes, and I'm not the girl with the blue washed denim they sing about. We were just misfits who made a mess out of the messed ups we already are, as if that isn't already enough. We were just planes thrown in the air, hoping to land, but ending up crashed and burnt. And that's how it always worked for people like us. I was never worn out by your sadness as much as I was worn out by mine. And clearly, you were my favorite messed up, but, you're just not worth it anymore. And this — this is a just an unpoetic musing about the wrecks that we are, an impulsive attempt of detoxifying you out of my system. This — this is me, disowning your sadness; this is me disowning your demons. So let's just cut the drama and all that sweet **** — we weren't those kind of people. We were the almost-but-not-quite's, the could've-beens, and the never were's. We weren't the kind that bags the happily ever after. We weren't the kind that makes it. All we are is everything short of lovers. All we're made for is everything short of I love you's. And this is everything short of love.
0
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 12:59 AM UTC
short of lovers
Let's cut the crap and all that sweet **** — we weren't those kind of people. We weren't made for romance and sappy poetries, weren't made for love songs, and cringey sweet nothings and gazing at the sunrise after camping out for the night on a hill. We were made to hold hands and a few almost-kisses during drinking sessions and forget about it the next day, to smoke and lie down a little bit too close to each other on rooftops and talk about depression and anxiety attacks, and deny everything in the morning. We were made for my unsaid "I miss you too's", that want to escape my lips the moment you say your drunken "I miss you's". We were made to see each other break down in between a pack of cigarettes and two bottles of local *** We were more like two ****** up souls recognizing each other; more like two faultlines causing an earthquake and taking everything down with them, more like the first raindrops to fall apart before a thunderstorm, like two planets out of orbit crashing on each other in a brief but destructive way. You see, maybe we're just drawn to people similar to us, and maybe, we're just drawn to each other because we're equally messed up. Maybe it was just the strong urge to save the other that borderlined to romance. But I guess being messed up wears people out, and sometimes I find myself wondering who got exhausted first. Where did the talks about "wanting to die together" go? When did the conversations about our saddest secrets cease? What stopped "Man, loving you is a disaster I won't mind being struck by," from coming? Was I too depressive and sad for you? Were my breakdowns suffocating? Did my fuckedupness stop feeling like home and started looking just plain ****** up? When did you start fading away? Why would you do that? Stupid questions. You should know, it beats the **** out of me to say it, but I was perhaps a little bit desperate for you to stay. Perhaps I got too comfortable with your demons, I almost adopted them as mine. Perhaps the fact that you were willing to give me your ******** all was comforting. Perhaps I was selfish, and I kinda wanted my darkness to be the only darkness you'll wanna light. Perhaps I miss you and it feels like I'm a chainsmoker on withdrawal from her cigarettes, and what ***** more is that I don't even know if I still cross your mind as that same sad girl you were happy being sad with, as that same sad girl who had always been your destination, and the very same one you apparently stopped coming to. And perhaps, thinking about all of these is ******** We weren't some modern-day knight and damsel. You weren't the guy with the beautiful blue eyes, and I'm not the girl with the blue washed denim they sing about. We were just misfits who made a mess out of the messed ups we already are, as if that isn't already enough. We were just planes thrown in the air, hoping to land, but ending up crashed and burnt. And that's how it always worked for people like us. I was never worn out by your sadness as much as I was worn out by mine. And clearly, you were my favorite messed up, but, you're just not worth it anymore. And this — this is a just an unpoetic musing about the wrecks that we are, an impulsive attempt of detoxifying you out of my system. This — this is me, disowning your sadness; this is me disowning your demons. So let's just cut the drama and all that sweet **** — we weren't those kind of people. We were the almost-but-not-quite's, the could've-beens, and the never were's. We weren't the kind that bags the happily ever after. We weren't the kind that makes it. All we are is everything short of lovers. All we're made for is everything short of I love you's. And this is everything short of love.
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5
There's some kind of emptiness inside your chest, where your heart is supposed to be, and it's sort of similar to the one that's buried in mine. And maybe we're two halves of that emptiness. Maybe we make the whole. Maybe that's our kind of love.
0
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 11:36 AM UTC
common denominators
There was something bittersweet about tangling my arm with yours as we finally crossed (or zigzagged through) the lines that had been blurred for quite awhile now. It was nowhere near a fairytale. Maybe it was something about you being the most beautiful, saddest thing I’ve ever seen, and maybe it was me being drawn to everything sad. Maybe all we had been is a cocktail of alcohol, terminal loneliness, and pent up ****** tensions, brewed somewhere between these nicotine-scented sheets and a series of bad decisions. It’s not love, just wanton desire, I’d say. And you’d agree in the mid of hitched breaths and sloppy kisses. And that was the last thing in our minds before we fumble over the zippers and get lost in each other’s uncharted skin. Of course deep down, we know that you’re everything that’s bad for me, and that I’m not the type to stay naked in bed the morning after the night to make you pancakes. But the way your lips drugged mine into kissing back, the way we said things we’ll never say when we’re sober, the way there was suddenly too much clothes and too huge gaps between our bodies all seemed comforting and sinfully magical. Of course deep down, we know that we’ll never stand a chance out there doing real-life romance; I wasn’t the one you were looking for, and you were just somebody I found. But right now, in this cramped apartment with leaky ceilings and creaky floors, all I wanna do before sanity rushes back give in to **** this", make all the wrong choices, and self-destruct with you.
0
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 9:31 AM UTC
favorite regrets
There was something bittersweet about tangling my arm with yours as we finally crossed (or zigzagged through) the lines that had been blurred for quite awhile now. It was nowhere near a fairytale. Maybe it was something about you being the most beautiful, saddest thing I’ve ever seen, and maybe it was me being drawn to everything sad. Maybe all we had been is a cocktail of alcohol, terminal loneliness, and pent up ****** tensions, brewed somewhere between these nicotine-scented sheets and a series of bad decisions. It’s not love, just wanton desire, I’d say. And you’d agree in the mid of hitched breaths and sloppy kisses. And that was the last thing in our minds before we fumble over the zippers and get lost in each other’s uncharted skin. Of course deep down, we know that you’re everything that’s bad for me, and that I’m not the type to stay naked in bed the morning after the night to make you pancakes. But the way your lips drugged mine into kissing back, the way we said things we’ll never say when we’re sober, the way there was suddenly too much clothes and too huge gaps between our bodies all seemed comforting and sinfully magical. Of course deep down, we know that we’ll never stand a chance out there doing real-life romance; I wasn’t the one you were looking for, and you were just somebody I found. But right now, in this cramped apartment with leaky ceilings and creaky floors, all I wanna do before sanity rushes back give in to **** this", make all the wrong choices, and self-destruct with you.
Continue reading...
2
I have a bad habit of falling for messed up people. Maybe it’s because my own sadness recognizes theirs. So darling, let's fall in love and apart.
0
Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 8:37 AM UTC
Robyn
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
asphodel
writing you poems feels like relapsing into self-destruction
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Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 12:58 AM UTC
venice
if we're all about lazy, blanket-cuddles mixed with Radiohead songs and missing breakfast in the morning, if we're all about playing Russian roulettes with our anxiety triggers and chasing them down with ***** if we're all about untouched calendars and jokes that aren't funny and telling them anyway and not saying i love you's, then, i love what we're all about. i love not saying i love you's with you. i love this kind of us.
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Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 2:32 AM UTC
pseudo-romances
Your Love Was Like A Gallon Of Bleach, Draino , And Windex, Down My Throat. I Was Dead Before I Hit The Floor.
0
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Poison
He hurts me while he's smiling I would die just to feel his pain His warmth is what I'm aching I'd dance in his stormy rain My skin and bones are trembling Not in fear but in sinful pleasure The liquor and sweat are reeking His rancid aroma that I treasure The one thing people are saying Is to abandon my lust for him I know he's the only one I'm craving So I pretend he loves me in my dream I'll receive his every demons and light Just for him to come to me everynight
0
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 9:48 AM UTC
Pain is My Pleasure
sun-kissed dewy skins, lovely sugar lips adorn me, oh baby, angel stolen kisses, feel my heart aching, tingly ugly bruises. stealing daises from your garden, watch you kiss that demon. heaven blessed us baby, feel your stares, so deadly. read you like a poem, love you like a rhythm, darling i'd die for you a thousand songs i'd sing for you. just let me take your hand, show you a little bit of light, baby, we'll be ****** walk me through the night. watch you kiss that demon, paint myself in crimson. baby let me love you, baby let me kiss you. what a sweet, sweet angel, but sadly, in love with a demon.
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Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
sweet angel.
red shoes cracked heel a woman folded in the shade broken or roughly interrupted it was a caress it was a kiss it was a hug it was love it's a punch it's a grin it's scary it’s infected love my blind love your sick love it was air and light it's metal flavor in my mouth kicks in my belly vomited words our guilty love hypnotic poison yes you can! **** me. **** me ! but before my eyes close in the eternal darkness! please! line to me I need the darkness in your eyes please ! give me a last beautiful oblivion! I lie motionless cold dirt above me badly thrown with the **** wet by tears of those who loved me your tears your guilty love there’s no more light for me cold corpse a flower into my hand withered food for worms my end your END you, interrupted interrupted. your skin your eyes your heart off. un-love your tyrant too much love your mate closed eyes my fault hush my useless silent cry
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Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
anthology "im-perfect love"
You stuck to me Like coffee stains on my shirt and Like paint under my fingernails; I could romanticize your pressence as much as I want But the truth is that you are nothing but filth. I wanted to wash you and All the memories we've made But I just can't seem to scrub you away. I tried and tried and tried Until my eyes were red Until my knuckles were bruised Until I sank to my bed Until I drowned in ***** Until my body was dead. But, it was too late to wash off the filth and dust That you made me believe, were glitter and fluff For you have seeped into the deepest crevices of my life To spread your virus of lovely lies. You made me think that bacteria was dopamine And this disease was love.
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Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
SICK DAY
BASTARD! In my mind a hundred times a day it caws, A black and flapping creature hopping awkwardly Across the even furrow of my love. Dining on the choicest seed, uncovering the rest, Making sure no crop will ever flourish here, As I stand and gaze, Too weary from the endless days of planting all alone, Too hungry from the meals I've missed to care, I turn into an ineffective scarecrow Who just watches. LJM
0
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC
THE CROW
Today before it rains, I'll big a big boat and sail away in irregular sleeves. Big floppy ones that hang below my wrists. Cut little slits to slide my thumbs in. Then I'll buy a telescope and peer through the wrong end, Thinking far left when everything seems so right. Sailing in a pool of rain on the perfect day. Of all the things I brought from the store. I still find myself being the main ingredient of a certain stew. For each drop that will fall I will smile. Maybe a tad bit old fashion. But who else can see things exactly as I do. Splashing my shoes in odd shaped puddles. Today before it rains, I'll think of something a bit more subtle. Something a bit more complex. Hell I didn't have anything else better to do so I thought of you. Wondering exactly what you'll look like from the other end of the telescope. So far today has been strange. Buying a boat for no particular reason. Seeking kaleidoscopes and telescopes, Waddling my wrists around in odd fitting sleeves. Climbing aboard my boat waiting on the rain to pour. By chance if I were to see you on today of all days, and you were to ask why. My reply would possibly be the most simplest thing I've ever said. Taking nothing odd out of context, Or the extra length added to my sleeves. I'd simply reply. Hopefully sail away from you. The telescope was just to distract you
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Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 2:46 PM UTC
Deep End
I thought I was gone. Thought you took my heart with. Turns out you weren't even the one who had it. He did. My best friend. The one I'd go to about you. The one that threatened you and never left my side. I love him. Not you. Never did truly love you as I thought. I thought i lot of things that turned out to be false but I am sure about him. He is caring, loving, sweet, truthful. All thing you'll never be. I would say I am over you but honestly one good look of you know and I realized there was nothing TO get over. haha. Now bye. Friends right ******
0
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
I thought I was lost... Not even close
I kept running back to you; the one who kept breaking my heart - spewing venom off your tongue and poisoning my mind was your art. I tried so hard to see the Angel hidden in your demonic front; but of your destruction and your sadistic nature I bore the brunt.
0
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 5:03 AM UTC
Poison
You were the boy always drinking and high on drugs and I was the girl always falling for bullies and thugs; in our toxic relationship you smashed me into pieces time and time again, yet still I chose your "love" regardless of the torture, abuse and the pain.
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
Mishandled
You were the Venus flytrap enticing me in, and once you'd imprisoned me; everybody knew it would begin. I was only a flower with petals so withered, I'd die at the hands of you, everybody figured.
0
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
Bad Love
I'm seaching for traces of you in the ether left of your short presence The warm glow of basking in your thoughts of me The quiet pleasure of knowing I've affected you in some way Unruffled you refuse to give anything away You didn't think it through My soul has a window on you The stony looks hide nothing of our irreverent connection Lost to the world for seconds that fill the void with lifetimes Scorched by those burning eyes your glow already envelops me Don't get too close, Sparks have a habit of spurring flames We know better than to mix fire with gasoline A quick touch Transfers so much I am left reeling I push you away though you still linger in my atmosphere Standing in your vacated place Till the last vibration of warmth dissipates And my soul has the course to move again searching for another chance to hover near you In time and spaces undefined by the regular course of love.
0
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 6:12 PM UTC
By chance to linger irreverently in love