#fullstop
No matter what
Tonight
I may write
A single word
Too sad to read
Twice
"Fullstop"
Nov 25, 2020
Nov 25, 2020 at 5:41 PM UTC
With that stillness
Probably
It's time to bid
Condolances
For the death of
The dream
With heavy heart
Tear
D
R
O
P
S
.
.
.
.
Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 10:39 PM UTC
Some days I go from top speed to a dead halt in the same amount of time it takes to unlock a door or flip a light switch.
And when I'm standing still, it's hard not to feel like everything around me is crashing down and shattering. And it's loud. It's in my face. Etched onto my skin. Burned into my memory.
But somehow, I'm still here. After the thundering collision and the screeching of tires. I'm still here. In the middle of the crossroads. Still breathing. Still standing. Still here.
Because there are a few strings keeping me from crumbling. And here and there an iron rod that will not let me fall. Small truths and sentiments that shout louder and whisper sweeter than any of my thoughts ever could:
"someone cares" "you matter to me"
"don't walk alone" "careful" "would you like a hand?" "how was your day?" "you're smart too" "I like your face"
It brings me back. Back to that crossroads: my past behind me. A vast future ahead. Calling, beckoning the same way you do with that smile on your lips, your hand outstretched. And even in my clumsy fingers I will grasp it.
And follow.
From 0 to 5, to 10. To 20. To 30. To 40.
Slowly propelled forward yet again, out of the darkness my mind pulls up and around my shoulders like a shroud. Out of the ******* currents that pull me down. Out of the shadows where my bones grow cold.
Into the light and glow of countless stars. Each perfect, each warm. Each far away and watching from their perch upon your shoulders, your arms, your cheeks. Each inviting in the way a warm bed calls on rainy days.
Let me follow. Let me fall. Let me sink into your embrace and tell you how afraid I was today. Let me bare my soul, and make me strong. So that one day. If you should hear the collision and smell the smoke, I will be there to lift you out of the wreckage and hold you to my chest. The way you do now.
That one day I won't need saving from myself. But love fearlessly instead.
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 7:06 AM UTC
I'm the verses others
wish to syllabise,
But I'll be to wordy to condense
into rhyme or reason..
I never configure to a word
count,
To abstract for other to realise
the meaning of my existence.
my lifes just to complicated to put
into any kind of words.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 7:26 PM UTC
If someone asks
Why don't you write,
Those days?
I can't
Pretend
Just reply
Jul 9, 2019
Jul 9, 2019 at 11:10 PM UTC
The hardest questions to answer are the ones that end with a full stop.
May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
Full stop.
Too strong to end any sentence.
Too weak to start one.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 5:41 AM UTC
i used to hate fullstops
i hated the way they ended
stories which i never wanted
to see ending
i hated the way they sit
on the side of a page
thinking that they had the authority
to stop. and restart
i hated the way they didn't signify
a beginning, only an end
and the possibility of things continuing
were never certain
but what was certain,
was it's end
poetry‘s not meant to be certain
it's not meant to close up a story with a single line
or a single rhyme
must less a single dot
but then your life starts spinning
and suddenly you're looking at this tiny dot
and just wishing it could appear in your life
so that your story can finally end.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
My thoughts are signed upon the
Wall
If you look closely
Reading the words that
Scream,
"I wrote it quickly"
Some may think with
Little thought,
But I needed to show how I felt
Anger,
Confusion,
Tears
Sit still upon my face, mixed
With the ink that permeates the wall
There is but one full stop
It signed the end of my write
The pen had but one nib
And I pulled upon the trigger,
My words were expelled
Upon the wall,
If you cant read my words,
Then you'll never know why
"I had to write my end upon the wall"
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
I loathe the fact that a boy I don't even know can fill me with so much insecurity.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
I punctuate with close precision,
aware of where
I'm placing my semi-colons and
dashes,
using Oxford commas
like a grammar geek.
Your punctuation always bothers me
but you, with your misplaced apostrophes
and oddly abbreviated words
that you cradle in speech marks,
never care.
You were constantly callous in your conduct,
your handling of punctuation marks.
I assumed you never understood
the significance I attached to your words.
I could feel the excitement
and anxiety and apprehension
build in my belly every time
with your exclamation points!
I could feel my brows furrow together
deep in confusion,
every time you sent me just
one little question mark?
I suppose I never did tell you this
but when last month you ended your sentence
(accidentally, of course) with a dash,
well, I knew then that we’d be for ever.
and when last week you sent me
a comma to end your speech
I knew for certain that
more was to come.
but I see now it was silly
to attach such hope to a hyphen
because yesterday you concluded
with the biggest full stop I've ever seen
and let me know that that was all.
I felt that period’s punch
deep inside my gut
like you were trying to make me
throw up my jam and toast.
I had never before known
one small,
simple
dot
to be so powerful
and hurt so much.
It did though,
and you couldn't even tell-
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 3:56 AM UTC