#dorm - Hello Poetry

#dorm

I asked if you recalled the time in the snow to mega bed you hauled your bag and your speedo Got there, you sprawled said your back had a blow Said the mushrooms you did made your self-worth glow You claim you're too busy though I know you still care but something warm fills me whole not happiness, its unfair How you once trudged through the snow just to smell my hair

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Jul 21, 2025

Jul 21, 2025 at 12:21 AM UTC

Lees-literature-laptop

all jazz band members are the same

I asked if you recalled the time in the snow to mega bed you hauled your bag and your speedo Got there, you sprawled said your back had a blow Said the mushrooms you did made your self-worth glow You claim you're too busy though I know you still care but something warm fills me whole not happiness, its unfair How you once trudged through the snow just to smell my hair

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The lonely moth sits perched on the shower wall Raindrops fog up the mirror quite unconcerned Shampoo drips and stings my watchful eyes The lonely moth moves between my lashes onto the faucet Scruffy loofahs exfoliating my dirtyy limbs fall to the side Water pools outside the hair-clogged drain The lonely moth flutters– gone in a trick of the mind Hair cream coats dripping, bouncy locks of curls A fresh towel becomes soaked and softened

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Mar 12, 2025

Mar 12, 2025 at 1:26 PM UTC

Ode to the Bathroom Moth

The lonely moth sits perched on the shower wall Raindrops fog up the mirror quite unconcerned Shampoo drips and stings my watchful eyes The lonely moth moves between my lashes onto the faucet Scruffy loofahs exfoliating my dirtyy limbs fall to the side Water pools outside the hair-clogged drain The lonely moth flutters– gone in a trick of the mind Hair cream coats dripping, bouncy locks of curls A fresh towel becomes soaked and softened

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On days like this, I am reminded of a feeling once foreign to me A concept I’d only caught from books and from movies. One that crushes yet contains no mass That cripples heart and brain alike yet bears no blade. It is the bitter, biting brutality of winter with no fire nearby to curl up to Nipping at the heart and leaving it crisp with melancholy. It is a plague which I seem to have regretfully caught Despite having recently become so very aware of how to use its cure. The girl across the hall opens her door and produces a weary, sigh with her exit Perhaps a plea for an ear to listen or another to exist with. She passes by my open doorway silently, contradicting herself Our pleas for a social volley cast together into the blizzard. I imagine she feels that same apprehension; hesitation Or perhaps she had something to do. The simple smile of another among the thousands here Would be an ember of joy sufficient to set my hearth alight for days. I crave that warmth like few things I have craved before So close by, yet more scarce than it’s ever been. Chatter was once my sun, and I basking endlessly below How I yearn for summer in this raging storm.

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Jan 31, 2025

Jan 31, 2025 at 8:15 PM UTC

The Cold of Loneliness

On days like this, I am reminded of a feeling once foreign to me A concept I’d only caught from books and from movies. One that crushes yet contains no mass That cripples heart and brain alike yet bears no blade. It is the bitter, biting brutality of winter with no fire nearby to curl up to Nipping at the heart and leaving it crisp with melancholy. It is a plague which I seem to have regretfully caught Despite having recently become so very aware of how to use its cure. The girl across the hall opens her door and produces a weary, sigh with her exit Perhaps a plea for an ear to listen or another to exist with. She passes by my open doorway silently, contradicting herself Our pleas for a social volley cast together into the blizzard. I imagine she feels that same apprehension; hesitation Or perhaps she had something to do. The simple smile of another among the thousands here Would be an ember of joy sufficient to set my hearth alight for days. I crave that warmth like few things I have craved before So close by, yet more scarce than it’s ever been. Chatter was once my sun, and I basking endlessly below How I yearn for summer in this raging storm.

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Moonlight through a quilt of clouds we rush before the storm lightning, like a camera flashed as we made it to the dorm We shiver as we rush the stairs to the thunderous afterboom I survey the nights assignments when I’m safe inside my room We’d planned for this foul weather, and our tempest borne confinement by stopping for some chinese food - it was practically a requirement.

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Dec 14, 2021

Dec 14, 2021 at 7:29 AM UTC

before the storm

Moonlight through a quilt of clouds we rush before the storm lightning, like a camera flashed as we made it to the dorm We shiver as we rush the stairs to the thunderous afterboom I survey the nights assignments when I’m safe inside my room We’d planned for this foul weather, and our tempest borne confinement by stopping for some chinese food - it was practically a requirement.

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I finished moving into my residential college as a storm began - fat raindrops, as big as coconuts, falling from a black and fouling sky. These northerners were acting like a "tropical storm" (Henri) was a big deal. “Surely New England gets storms?” I ask, from behind my mask. “What about NOR_Easters?” I say, like a meteorologist. “Those are different.” I’m told, with no other explanation. “Did you bring this storm from the “SOUTH?” I’m asked, accusingly. (This was after I told them about coming from one ”bulldog-college-town” to another.) “Yes.” I reply, “It was in my luggage.” A silly question but they have a point - the storm feels like it’s involved and fulfilling some obligation to dramatize my college move-in story. “Time to quarantine!” I’m informed - “Yep, can’t WAIT!” I lie. One disaster at a time.

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Aug 22, 2021

Aug 22, 2021 at 2:41 PM UTC

I finished moving into my residential college as a storm began - fat raindrops, as big as coconuts, falling from a black and fouling sky. These northerners were acting like a "tropical storm" (Henri) was a big deal. “Surely New England gets storms?” I ask, from behind my mask. “What about NOR_Easters?” I say, like a meteorologist. “Those are different.” I’m told, with no other explanation. “Did you bring this storm from the “SOUTH?” I’m asked, accusingly. (This was after I told them about coming from one ”bulldog-college-town” to another.) “Yes.” I reply, “It was in my luggage.” A silly question but they have a point - the storm feels like it’s involved and fulfilling some obligation to dramatize my college move-in story. “Time to quarantine!” I’m informed - “Yep, can’t WAIT!” I lie. One disaster at a time.

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Millay Has Her Way with a Vassar Professor by Michael R. Burch After a night of hard drinking and spreading her legs, Millay hits the dorm, where the Vassar don begs: “Please act more chastely, more discretely, more seemly!” (His name, let’s assume, was, er ... Percival Queemly.) “Expel me! Expel me!”—She flashes her eyes. “Oh! Please! No! I couldn’t! That wouldn’t be wise, for a great banished Shelley would tarnish my name ... Eek! My game will be lame if I can’t milque your fame!” “Continue to live here—carouse as you please!” the beleaguered don sighs as he sags to his knees. Millay grinds her crotch half an inch from his nose: “I can live in your hellhole, strange man, I suppose ... but the price is your firstborn, whom I’ll sacrifice to Moloch.” (Which explains what became of pale Percy’s son, Enoch.) Originally published by Lucid Rhythms. This poem is based on an account of Edna St. Vincent Millay being confronted by a male Vassar authority about her rogue behavior. However, there is a some poetic license involved, for the sake of humor. It was actually Vassar President Henry Noble MacCracken who mentioned Shelley. Here is his account in a response to a question about Millay cutting classes: "She cut everything. I once called her in and told her, 'I want you to know that you couldn't break any rule that would make me vote for your expulsion. I don't want to have any dead Shelleys on my doorstep, and I don't care what you do.' She went to the window and looked out and she said, 'Well on those terms I think I can continue to live in this hellhole.'" The stuff about Enoch and Moloch is, of course, pure fabrication on my part. Keywords/Tags: Millay, dead, Shelley, Vassar, dorm, hellhole, drinking, partying, *** cutting classes

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Apr 17, 2020

Apr 17, 2020 at 12:32 AM UTC

michael-r-burch

Millay Has Her Way with a Vassar Professor

Millay Has Her Way with a Vassar Professor by Michael R. Burch After a night of hard drinking and spreading her legs, Millay hits the dorm, where the Vassar don begs: “Please act more chastely, more discretely, more seemly!” (His name, let’s assume, was, er ... Percival Queemly.) “Expel me! Expel me!”—She flashes her eyes. “Oh! Please! No! I couldn’t! That wouldn’t be wise, for a great banished Shelley would tarnish my name ... Eek! My game will be lame if I can’t milque your fame!” “Continue to live here—carouse as you please!” the beleaguered don sighs as he sags to his knees. Millay grinds her crotch half an inch from his nose: “I can live in your hellhole, strange man, I suppose ... but the price is your firstborn, whom I’ll sacrifice to Moloch.” (Which explains what became of pale Percy’s son, Enoch.) Originally published by Lucid Rhythms. This poem is based on an account of Edna St. Vincent Millay being confronted by a male Vassar authority about her rogue behavior. However, there is a some poetic license involved, for the sake of humor. It was actually Vassar President Henry Noble MacCracken who mentioned Shelley. Here is his account in a response to a question about Millay cutting classes: "She cut everything. I once called her in and told her, 'I want you to know that you couldn't break any rule that would make me vote for your expulsion. I don't want to have any dead Shelleys on my doorstep, and I don't care what you do.' She went to the window and looked out and she said, 'Well on those terms I think I can continue to live in this hellhole.'" The stuff about Enoch and Moloch is, of course, pure fabrication on my part. Keywords/Tags: Millay, dead, Shelley, Vassar, dorm, hellhole, drinking, partying, *** cutting classes

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The stars sparkle like LED lights Hung upon the walls of a celestial dorm A college student in the skies studies the small creatures below She writes her essays on myths that humans told long ago Her professor grades the paper judging not on fact, but on prose Classmates chat in the halls About classes, about dating, about parties But the lunar lady continues watching with a cautious eye As we go about our daily lives

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Apr 7, 2020

Apr 7, 2020 at 7:13 AM UTC

The stars sparkle like LED lights Hung upon the walls of a celestial dorm A college student in the skies studies the small creatures below She writes her essays on myths that humans told long ago Her professor grades the paper judging not on fact, but on prose Classmates chat in the halls About classes, about dating, about parties But the lunar lady continues watching with a cautious eye As we go about our daily lives

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These Hallowed Halls by Michael R. Burch a young Romantic Poet mourns the passing of an age . . . I. A final stereo fades into silence and now there is seldom a murmur to trouble the slumber of these ancient halls. I stand by a window where others have watched the passage of time—alone, not untouched. And I am as they were ...unsure... for the days stretch out ahead, a bewildering maze. II. Ah, faithless lover— that I had never touched your breast, nor felt the stirrings of my heart, which until that moment had peacefully slept. For now I have known the exhilaration of a heart that has vaulted the Pinnacle of Love, and the result of each such infatuation— the long freefall to earth, as the moon glides above. III. A solitary clock chimes the hour from far above the campus, but my peers, returning from their dances, heed it not. And so it is that we seldom gauge Time’s speed because He moves so unobtrusively about His task. Still, when at last we reckon His mark upon our lives, we may well be surprised at His thoroughness. IV. Ungentle maiden— when Time has etched His little lines so carelessly across your brow, perhaps I will love you less than now. And when cruel Time has stolen your youth, as He certainly shall in course, perhaps you will wish you had taken me along with my broken heart, even as He will take you with yours. V. A measureless rhythm rules the night— few have heard it, but I have shared it, and its secret is mine. To put it into words is as to extract the sweetness from honey and must be done as gently as a butterfly cleans its wings. But when it is captured, it is gone again; its usefulness is only that it lulls to sleep. VI. So sleep, my love, to the cadence of night, to the moans of the moonlit hills’ bass chorus of frogs, while the deep valleys fill with the nightjar’s shrill, cryptic trills. But I will not sleep this night, nor any; how can I—when my dreams are always of your perfect face ringed by soft whorls of fretted lace, framed by your perfect pillowcase? VII. If I had been born when knights roamed the earth and mad kings ruled savage lands, I might have turned to the ministry, to the solitude of a monastery. But there are no monks or hermits today— theirs is a lost occupation carried on, if at all, merely for sake of tradition. For today man abhors solitude— he craves companions, song and drink, seldom seeking a quiet moment, to sit alone, by himself, to think. VIII. And so I cannot shut myself off from the rest of the world, to spend my days in philosophy and my nights in tears of self-sympathy. No, I must continue as best I can, and learn to keep my thoughts away from those glorious, uproarious moments of youth, centuries past though lost but a day. IX. Yes, I must discipline myself and adjust to these lackluster days when men display no chivalry and romance is the "old-fashioned" way. X. A single stereo flares into song and the first faint light of morning has pierced the sky's black awning once again. XI. This is a sacred place, for those who leave, leave better than they came. But those who stay, while they are here, add, with their sleepless nights and tears, quaint sprigs of ivy to the walls of these Hallowed Halls. NOTE: I wrote this poem from the window of my freshman dorm at age 18, while watching students returning from rush week parties in the wee hours of the morning. There is also a sonnet version of the poem. In this longer version there are clues that the poet, like Prufrock, is aware of the quaintness of his Romanticism in the modern age. I consider “These Hallowed Halls” to be my Ars Poetica, along with “Poetry.” Keywords/Tags: College, dorm, fraternity, rush, Romantic, unrequited, love, ivy, halls, learning, education, ivory, towers, stereo, music, romance, chivalry, maidens, damsels, knights, kings, monks, hermits, clock, time

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Mar 24, 2020

Mar 24, 2020 at 8:18 PM UTC

michael-r-burch

These Hallowed Halls

These Hallowed Halls by Michael R. Burch a young Romantic Poet mourns the passing of an age . . . I. A final stereo fades into silence and now there is seldom a murmur to trouble the slumber of these ancient halls. I stand by a window where others have watched the passage of time—alone, not untouched. And I am as they were ...unsure... for the days stretch out ahead, a bewildering maze. II. Ah, faithless lover— that I had never touched your breast, nor felt the stirrings of my heart, which until that moment had peacefully slept. For now I have known the exhilaration of a heart that has vaulted the Pinnacle of Love, and the result of each such infatuation— the long freefall to earth, as the moon glides above. III. A solitary clock chimes the hour from far above the campus, but my peers, returning from their dances, heed it not. And so it is that we seldom gauge Time’s speed because He moves so unobtrusively about His task. Still, when at last we reckon His mark upon our lives, we may well be surprised at His thoroughness. IV. Ungentle maiden— when Time has etched His little lines so carelessly across your brow, perhaps I will love you less than now. And when cruel Time has stolen your youth, as He certainly shall in course, perhaps you will wish you had taken me along with my broken heart, even as He will take you with yours. V. A measureless rhythm rules the night— few have heard it, but I have shared it, and its secret is mine. To put it into words is as to extract the sweetness from honey and must be done as gently as a butterfly cleans its wings. But when it is captured, it is gone again; its usefulness is only that it lulls to sleep. VI. So sleep, my love, to the cadence of night, to the moans of the moonlit hills’ bass chorus of frogs, while the deep valleys fill with the nightjar’s shrill, cryptic trills. But I will not sleep this night, nor any; how can I—when my dreams are always of your perfect face ringed by soft whorls of fretted lace, framed by your perfect pillowcase? VII. If I had been born when knights roamed the earth and mad kings ruled savage lands, I might have turned to the ministry, to the solitude of a monastery. But there are no monks or hermits today— theirs is a lost occupation carried on, if at all, merely for sake of tradition. For today man abhors solitude— he craves companions, song and drink, seldom seeking a quiet moment, to sit alone, by himself, to think. VIII. And so I cannot shut myself off from the rest of the world, to spend my days in philosophy and my nights in tears of self-sympathy. No, I must continue as best I can, and learn to keep my thoughts away from those glorious, uproarious moments of youth, centuries past though lost but a day. IX. Yes, I must discipline myself and adjust to these lackluster days when men display no chivalry and romance is the "old-fashioned" way. X. A single stereo flares into song and the first faint light of morning has pierced the sky's black awning once again. XI. This is a sacred place, for those who leave, leave better than they came. But those who stay, while they are here, add, with their sleepless nights and tears, quaint sprigs of ivy to the walls of these Hallowed Halls. NOTE: I wrote this poem from the window of my freshman dorm at age 18, while watching students returning from rush week parties in the wee hours of the morning. There is also a sonnet version of the poem. In this longer version there are clues that the poet, like Prufrock, is aware of the quaintness of his Romanticism in the modern age. I consider “These Hallowed Halls” to be my Ars Poetica, along with “Poetry.” Keywords/Tags: College, dorm, fraternity, rush, Romantic, unrequited, love, ivy, halls, learning, education, ivory, towers, stereo, music, romance, chivalry, maidens, damsels, knights, kings, monks, hermits, clock, time

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Sometimes dorms stink of stories, Of drunken romps and late night melodies Of no-good ramen smashed down sinks Broken hearts and centipedes Sometimes late at night, (Tonight) Showers reset arteries, 'Til we smell of peppermint And scrub out grime and memories.

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Jan 15, 2020

Jan 15, 2020 at 10:30 AM UTC

Sometimes dorms stink of stories, Of drunken romps and late night melodies Of no-good ramen smashed down sinks Broken hearts and centipedes Sometimes late at night, (Tonight) Showers reset arteries, 'Til we smell of peppermint And scrub out grime and memories.

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I’m in a dorm room with the lights all off, You were there, it’s 5:15. The day was fading and all I see Is the flickering lights from the city. The sun was burning now just like the whiskey, Or was it Crown? It’s 9:16. I smelled tangerines. Was that your perfume? I swear I could see for miles in your eyes. You wanted me to say it, so I said it. I’m afraid. To be myself, to be a man. But I’m 19. Guess I’ll figure that out as best I can. I really miss that dorm room.

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Nov 11, 2019

Nov 11, 2019 at 11:33 PM UTC

Cardboard_Jones

The First Truth I Told

I’m in a dorm room with the lights all off, You were there, it’s 5:15. The day was fading and all I see Is the flickering lights from the city. The sun was burning now just like the whiskey, Or was it Crown? It’s 9:16. I smelled tangerines. Was that your perfume? I swear I could see for miles in your eyes. You wanted me to say it, so I said it. I’m afraid. To be myself, to be a man. But I’m 19. Guess I’ll figure that out as best I can. I really miss that dorm room.

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Sitting on her dorm room bed Three feet from the floor Not quite happy But not quite sad She wants to feel the ache in her bones The hatred she has for herself She wants that to come back she doesn’t want to feel ok Cause she’s not Trying to make that decision To walkout in the middle of the night While her room mate sleeps And to never come back She’s ok right now But she wants that sadness The depression to fill her bones She wishes she could pull the metaphorical trigger And not live Oh how she aches To just want to not be ok anymore Because when you’re not ok You feel alive Or at least she does It’s terrible beast She hates when she’s ok but hates when she’s sad She just wishes she could not exist That would be her ultimate goal She types this in the dark as her roommate drifts off to sleep I know cause that girl is me

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Sep 9, 2019

Sep 9, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC

Sitting on her dorm room bed Three feet from the floor Not quite happy But not quite sad She wants to feel the ache in her bones The hatred she has for herself She wants that to come back she doesn’t want to feel ok Cause she’s not Trying to make that decision To walkout in the middle of the night While her room mate sleeps And to never come back She’s ok right now But she wants that sadness The depression to fill her bones She wishes she could pull the metaphorical trigger And not live Oh how she aches To just want to not be ok anymore Because when you’re not ok You feel alive Or at least she does It’s terrible beast She hates when she’s ok but hates when she’s sad She just wishes she could not exist That would be her ultimate goal She types this in the dark as her roommate drifts off to sleep I know cause that girl is me

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i just realized that tonight might be my last to spend in bed with my obese cat purring under my arm because now im an adult and my life will move on no more crying too or talking and cuddling and holding in front of a mirror so she can see her reflection no more petting or kissing or waiting to scoop up when i come home because now im an adult and my life has to move on and im moving out a kiss on my finger one last cuddle by my face as she walks on my keyboard as i type this accidentally hitting space the saddest of goodbyes that i'll ever have to face

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Aug 21, 2019

Aug 21, 2019 at 1:17 AM UTC

i just realized that tonight might be my last to spend in bed with my obese cat purring under my arm because now im an adult and my life will move on no more crying too or talking and cuddling and holding in front of a mirror so she can see her reflection no more petting or kissing or waiting to scoop up when i come home because now im an adult and my life has to move on and im moving out a kiss on my finger one last cuddle by my face as she walks on my keyboard as i type this accidentally hitting space the saddest of goodbyes that i'll ever have to face

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I hate this feeling This feeling I’m feeling is a feeling that’s not appealing This feeling I’m feeling is way to unappealing I scream to god “why aren’t I healing?” This feeling that’s revealing, People see what I’ve been dealing with and It’s hard to express this feeling I’m feeling better cover it up better start concealing it… I can’t say a word though… to anyone about it …because if I do I’d cry, I’m depressed and people ask me why I get high? Because I feel college is getting dry This isn’t what I expected, this is all a lie The thoughts of me failing would only leave me mortified Got me in my dorm thinking why should I even try? Beating me up leaving me with this ugly black eye And people got a nerve to ask me why I get high? That’s why I get high This is what college is about? This is why I’d cry Now a days I get so busy and overwhelmed I don’t even have time to admire the blue sky I’m drained This feeling I’m feeling make me lean to god more and more I pray I get some faith healing Kneeling on my knees I pray for the answers I’ve been needing The negative voices in my head are getting louder and louder The words that my demon has been speaking can get a little much I’m screaming I can’t bare to feel this feeling that I’m feeling I’m stressed But the cutie on the 8th floor got my back Call him down for some ****** healing After he’s gone I’m still left with this feeling that I’m feeling I’m done But I can’t be, people say have courage and I’m trying to They say I’ll be right here for you But this feeling I’m feeling is so unappealing I just don’t want to feel it anymore

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Nov 15, 2018

Nov 15, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC

kristin-marie-1

This feeling I'm feeling

I hate this feeling This feeling I’m feeling is a feeling that’s not appealing This feeling I’m feeling is way to unappealing I scream to god “why aren’t I healing?” This feeling that’s revealing, People see what I’ve been dealing with and It’s hard to express this feeling I’m feeling better cover it up better start concealing it… I can’t say a word though… to anyone about it …because if I do I’d cry, I’m depressed and people ask me why I get high? Because I feel college is getting dry This isn’t what I expected, this is all a lie The thoughts of me failing would only leave me mortified Got me in my dorm thinking why should I even try? Beating me up leaving me with this ugly black eye And people got a nerve to ask me why I get high? That’s why I get high This is what college is about? This is why I’d cry Now a days I get so busy and overwhelmed I don’t even have time to admire the blue sky I’m drained This feeling I’m feeling make me lean to god more and more I pray I get some faith healing Kneeling on my knees I pray for the answers I’ve been needing The negative voices in my head are getting louder and louder The words that my demon has been speaking can get a little much I’m screaming I can’t bare to feel this feeling that I’m feeling I’m stressed But the cutie on the 8th floor got my back Call him down for some ****** healing After he’s gone I’m still left with this feeling that I’m feeling I’m done But I can’t be, people say have courage and I’m trying to They say I’ll be right here for you But this feeling I’m feeling is so unappealing I just don’t want to feel it anymore

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My room is looking emptier than it ever has before, Got the clothes on my back; boxes are packed, sitting by the door. Oh, how this is happening oh so soon feels like a dream, But by the time the week is up, it’s me, my dorm, and the university.

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Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 2:33 AM UTC

JessicaJarvisPoetry

Me, My Dorm, and the University

My room is looking emptier than it ever has before, Got the clothes on my back; boxes are packed, sitting by the door. Oh, how this is happening oh so soon feels like a dream, But by the time the week is up, it’s me, my dorm, and the university.

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Take me back to the night we met When the day was hot And the air was humid The sky was crisp And the clouds were nonexistent Our skin spotted with sweat My life was sprawled out in front of us both My emotions were high But you didn't care You listened to it all Stories Memories About my family About my friends About my random little trinkets Things that meant nothing to you And everything to me You listened to it all Take me back to that night When we cleaned sticky **** off the wall With Magic Erasers and Goo Gone When we did nine loads of laundry And you saw all the underwear I own But you still didn't care The air was silent But we filled it with our voices With laughter With nervous excitement Coming from the first date Take me back to that night When I first fell in love

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Jul 26, 2018

Jul 26, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC

SerenePineapple

The Night We Met

Take me back to the night we met When the day was hot And the air was humid The sky was crisp And the clouds were nonexistent Our skin spotted with sweat My life was sprawled out in front of us both My emotions were high But you didn't care You listened to it all Stories Memories About my family About my friends About my random little trinkets Things that meant nothing to you And everything to me You listened to it all Take me back to that night When we cleaned sticky **** off the wall With Magic Erasers and Goo Gone When we did nine loads of laundry And you saw all the underwear I own But you still didn't care The air was silent But we filled it with our voices With laughter With nervous excitement Coming from the first date Take me back to that night When I first fell in love

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In this dorm, Where I first met you I did'nt like you. We were roommates, It was weird 'cuz you're a guy As time goes by, We became close friends But I did'nt realize, I already fell for you I wanted to confess, But I was scared I got nervous when you called me to meet up What if you'll say "I have a girlfriend" Negative thoughts came into my mind I got to the place where you told me I saw you, you waved at me I asked you what is it about You told me that there is this girl you fell inlove with It broke my heart hearing those You describe her and asked what to do I told you to confess directly even if it hurts "She is standing in front of me now" Tears fell into my eyes We kissed under the moonlight Well, being under the same roof was'nt bad at all.

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Aug 21, 2017

Aug 21, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC

Under the same Roof

In this dorm, Where I first met you I did'nt like you. We were roommates, It was weird 'cuz you're a guy As time goes by, We became close friends But I did'nt realize, I already fell for you I wanted to confess, But I was scared I got nervous when you called me to meet up What if you'll say "I have a girlfriend" Negative thoughts came into my mind I got to the place where you told me I saw you, you waved at me I asked you what is it about You told me that there is this girl you fell inlove with It broke my heart hearing those You describe her and asked what to do I told you to confess directly even if it hurts "She is standing in front of me now" Tears fell into my eyes We kissed under the moonlight Well, being under the same roof was'nt bad at all.

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i fell in love with the way you put your pen to paper so smooth, carelessly and still so thoughtful i fell in love with the way you looked at me when you were around your friends it’s like im the only person there i fell in love when you ran to hug me when the shooting was mid chaos i was so afraid but your arms were radiating comfort i fell out of love when you brought your girlfriend to the dorm for the weekend and she got all of my attention i fell out of love because there was never any love to give

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Aug 20, 2017

Aug 20, 2017 at 2:45 AM UTC

i fell in love with the way you put your pen to paper so smooth, carelessly and still so thoughtful i fell in love with the way you looked at me when you were around your friends it’s like im the only person there i fell in love when you ran to hug me when the shooting was mid chaos i was so afraid but your arms were radiating comfort i fell out of love when you brought your girlfriend to the dorm for the weekend and she got all of my attention i fell out of love because there was never any love to give

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Whose pizza here, I do not know. He's partying in the dorm below; I do not think that he would mind Me taking seven slices home.

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May 27, 2016

May 27, 2016 at 5:39 PM UTC

Whose pizza here, I do not know. He's partying in the dorm below; I do not think that he would mind Me taking seven slices home.

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Looking out the window, The melancholy snow stops all. The once bright city desolated left to die smothered by the bitter cold I crave the warmth of a companion someone to hold me. It's never felt so cold Remaining inside

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Dec 24, 2015

Dec 24, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC

Looking out the window, The melancholy snow stops all. The once bright city desolated left to die smothered by the bitter cold I crave the warmth of a companion someone to hold me. It's never felt so cold Remaining inside

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Wake up,wake up It's Still dark,still dark Wake up,wake up Keep dreaming and keep snoring For somehow the feeling was gone, Four Friend is wake up, Doing same thing,same thing everyday in the morning, left the soul,left it just a body that going to class Wake up,wake up but Already wake up no? Souls is still sleeping at bedrooms

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Aug 31, 2015

Aug 31, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC

Wake up,wake up It's Still dark,still dark Wake up,wake up Keep dreaming and keep snoring For somehow the feeling was gone, Four Friend is wake up, Doing same thing,same thing everyday in the morning, left the soul,left it just a body that going to class Wake up,wake up but Already wake up no? Souls is still sleeping at bedrooms

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Some part of you is like the moon softly glowing beside me on my too-small bed, and the monumental loneliness you wear as a halo must be a trick of the eye despite keeping me awake, hunched over a folder of unedited poems at 2:45AM. I wonder what the moon dreams of when the sun tucks it into bed at dawn as your eyelids flutter and your breathing hitches for a moment before you roll over, face the wall, parting clouds with a small sigh.

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Mar 2, 2015

Mar 2, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC

The Moon in my Bed

Some part of you is like the moon softly glowing beside me on my too-small bed, and the monumental loneliness you wear as a halo must be a trick of the eye despite keeping me awake, hunched over a folder of unedited poems at 2:45AM. I wonder what the moon dreams of when the sun tucks it into bed at dawn as your eyelids flutter and your breathing hitches for a moment before you roll over, face the wall, parting clouds with a small sigh.

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One little window in my tiny dorm room. To watch the sun rise and then sleep Makes me miss my tree house windows untoasted bagels for breakfast And a textbook for a friend-- Thomas's 12th edition One little Window. That keeps me sleeping Until noon. One little window. That keeps me so concealed. One little window That makes me miss home.

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Sep 17, 2012

Sep 17, 2012 at 11:24 PM UTC

One little window in my tiny dorm room. To watch the sun rise and then sleep Makes me miss my tree house windows untoasted bagels for breakfast And a textbook for a friend-- Thomas's 12th edition One little Window. That keeps me sleeping Until noon. One little window. That keeps me so concealed. One little window That makes me miss home.

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