#girlfriends - Hello Poetry

#girlfriends

She’s got daisies in her hair Collected on a hike With a bubbling brook laugh We circled the bay on bike Her blinding essence We fit like a glove Dive in the pool And also a love She’s got apple cider lips And cinnamon filled eyes Leaves drift off the trees We promise no goodbyes Her coat warm and ready For the next blanket of snow Carols in the square Sleepy snuggles by the fireplace aglow

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Sep 26, 2025

Sep 26, 2025 at 12:49 AM UTC

A Year’s Worth of Her

She’s got daisies in her hair Collected on a hike With a bubbling brook laugh We circled the bay on bike Her blinding essence We fit like a glove Dive in the pool And also a love She’s got apple cider lips And cinnamon filled eyes Leaves drift off the trees We promise no goodbyes Her coat warm and ready For the next blanket of snow Carols in the square Sleepy snuggles by the fireplace aglow

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My dorm room was bright this morning. It was disorienting. The sky outside was a cloudless, striking neon blue. The air was so crisp and clean, I could hardly feel it going in and out. It all sparked to create a diffused sense of well-being. Gone, it seems, were the concrete bunker feels of winter. There's been some loose talk of ‘spring’ lately—I thought it was fake news—but from my third floor lattice windows I could see what looked like people outside. They were walking in the sunshine, riding bikes, throwing frisbees, kicking hacky sacks, a couple was making out in the grass—it was a riot of activity. Sunny skiffed out of her room (which looks like a hotel room trashed by some rock star), she seemed lighter than air. Three days ago, she announced there was someone of “particular personal significance,” in her life (translate: girlfriend). Start the schmaltzy, string-drenched soundtrack—love is in the air. Our challenge now is to carve out a poised and measured final act to our undergraduate years. There’s a scurrying, cynosure, beehive, hyperfocus to labs and classes, a heightened, almost cinematic quality, as if, up to now, we’ve only been practicing for some undefined ‘real thing.’ . . Songs for this: Daylight by Harry Styles Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing by Michael McDonald Dizzy (feat. Alfie Templeman & Thomas Headon) by chloe moriondo . .our cast: A reader once asked, “Who are these people?” (a solid question) So now I do a cast list. Sunny, (suitemate) 21, a (pre-med) molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major, is a cowgirl from Nebraska (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady. Your author, a simple, multinational, upper-crust, trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia who's also a molecular biophysics and biochemistry major (pre-med).

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Apr 4, 2025

Apr 4, 2025 at 9:22 AM UTC

My dorm room was bright this morning. It was disorienting. The sky outside was a cloudless, striking neon blue. The air was so crisp and clean, I could hardly feel it going in and out. It all sparked to create a diffused sense of well-being. Gone, it seems, were the concrete bunker feels of winter. There's been some loose talk of ‘spring’ lately—I thought it was fake news—but from my third floor lattice windows I could see what looked like people outside. They were walking in the sunshine, riding bikes, throwing frisbees, kicking hacky sacks, a couple was making out in the grass—it was a riot of activity. Sunny skiffed out of her room (which looks like a hotel room trashed by some rock star), she seemed lighter than air. Three days ago, she announced there was someone of “particular personal significance,” in her life (translate: girlfriend). Start the schmaltzy, string-drenched soundtrack—love is in the air. Our challenge now is to carve out a poised and measured final act to our undergraduate years. There’s a scurrying, cynosure, beehive, hyperfocus to labs and classes, a heightened, almost cinematic quality, as if, up to now, we’ve only been practicing for some undefined ‘real thing.’ . . Songs for this: Daylight by Harry Styles Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing by Michael McDonald Dizzy (feat. Alfie Templeman & Thomas Headon) by chloe moriondo . .our cast: A reader once asked, “Who are these people?” (a solid question) So now I do a cast list. Sunny, (suitemate) 21, a (pre-med) molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major, is a cowgirl from Nebraska (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady. Your author, a simple, multinational, upper-crust, trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia who's also a molecular biophysics and biochemistry major (pre-med).

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Allow me a moment to gush I don’t have any girlfriends, you see No, not that way. The old way Like the friend you call from a pink princess phone To tell about your latest crush I don’t have a girlfriend who eats french fries dipped in caramel milkshake While I describe all the ways he’s amazing absolutely gorgeous, smart, kind There’s no vanity in him, he just wants to be in nature She’d offer me a cigarette (I decline, well, maybe just a drag) Are all men in Austria like this? I don’t know, but I’ll ask if he has any friends If I had a girlfriend, we’d drive around town in her car (faded smoke, Hawaiian Tropic, sun-scorched vinyl) No destination but mischief I’d be blushing Because she’d ask how far we’d gotten Well, there’s an ocean between us but Our souls touched

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Aug 22, 2024

Aug 22, 2024 at 10:59 AM UTC

18. Girlfriends

Allow me a moment to gush I don’t have any girlfriends, you see No, not that way. The old way Like the friend you call from a pink princess phone To tell about your latest crush I don’t have a girlfriend who eats french fries dipped in caramel milkshake While I describe all the ways he’s amazing absolutely gorgeous, smart, kind There’s no vanity in him, he just wants to be in nature She’d offer me a cigarette (I decline, well, maybe just a drag) Are all men in Austria like this? I don’t know, but I’ll ask if he has any friends If I had a girlfriend, we’d drive around town in her car (faded smoke, Hawaiian Tropic, sun-scorched vinyl) No destination but mischief I’d be blushing Because she’d ask how far we’d gotten Well, there’s an ocean between us but Our souls touched

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It's the weekend (Friday night). Lisa and I are hangin’, music’s playing, and we’re rummaging through my suitcase, for an outfit option, for me, tonight. Call it cliché, but we like going out - and getting ready to go out with a friend, beforehand, is one of the rituals of beauty culture. Let’s get poetic! *If the sun is gonna shine in an endless blue (climate-changed) sky, if the temperature’s going to climb, until eggs on sidewalks fry, then it’s lighter, summer-wear time.* I made sure Lisa and I had two days, in Paris, to shop the Rue Saint-Honoré. ***** 5th avenue, the 1st arrondissement is la capitale of fashion - after all, it’s Coco Chanel's old haunt. Now, we have Armani, Chloe, Dior, Michael Kors, Hermès and Versace - just to name a few - I mean, gag a fashionista. Looking for bargains? You’re in the wrong place. If you’re down and thinking the world is turning to.. well, something bad, then you NEED some fashion, some beauty and some elegance. You don’t even need to buy anything - browsing is sumptuous. The boutiques are sound-proofed - so the world won’t intrude - and thickly carpeted so even your steps are muffled - or marble floored, polished to a fractured brilliance under the lit spiderwebs of fallen-star-lights. And the fragrances - no cap - the very air is different - it smells like aged money - that was a joke - they take new money these days. What’s important, in these palaces of style, are the whispered promises of unattainable beauty. Just browsing will up your game, because inspiration is everywhere, in sheens that put butterflies to shame, supima-cottons as soft as a sigh, and dresses that swirl like magic - and so many accessories. Lisa and I are young and easily ignored. Sales staff in these boutiques wear a leotard of arrogance, that fits like skin - the arrogance of people talking down to lesser folk. Lisa gasped when she saw a delicate, white ecru-cotton and silk-poplin mid-length shirt-dress by Dior. “Look at this,” she said softly, running her fingers along the delicate hem. I checked the tag, it read: €2770 ($3000). At that moment, a salesgirl - who looked to be 25ish - stalked over with a "look but don't touch" vibe that implied we weren’t worthy to touch the merchandise - or maybe be there at all. I bristled for Lisa, who’d withdrawn her hand as if burnt. I fished my phone from my clutch (it has a card-carry-case attached) and waved my black Centurion® Card (which can serve as a fu^k-you passport), “Have you got this in a French-36?” I jibbed, obstreperously (of course I know Lisa’s size). If my return-rudeness stung the salesgirl, there was nothing she could do with it. An older lady that I assumed was her supervisor joined us, all smooth smiles and low honey voice, “Hello ladies,” she said, as she glided around us like a wraith. “Go see (about the dress),” she told the young clerk, dismissively. The original salesgirl gave us a brittle smile that came and went like an eye blink, “Oui,” she said, smartly, while spinning away like a top. “Would you like a glass of wine or champagne?” The supervisor purred. “Non, merci (No thank you),” I said, smiling curtly. “We have it,” the original sales girl announced a moment later. “We’ll take it,” I pronounced. “NOo,” Lisa said, jerking as if electrically shocked. I waved my hand, as if scattering dust, “My treat.” Lisa insisted on trying it on. It fit like a dream and she looked like a supermodel (My dress needed tailoring - the bust taken in sigh). So, at least we know what she’s wearing tonight. . . songs for this: Glamor Girl by Louie Austen Baby You’re a Superstar by NuDisco Comme ci, comme ça by ZAZ . Our cast: Lisa, (roommate) 20, Manhattanite ‘glamor girl’ (who’d bristle at that description but it’s hundo-p true.) - my bff. A fellow (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.

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Jun 1, 2024

Jun 1, 2024 at 12:59 PM UTC

Rue Saint-Honoré

It's the weekend (Friday night). Lisa and I are hangin’, music’s playing, and we’re rummaging through my suitcase, for an outfit option, for me, tonight. Call it cliché, but we like going out - and getting ready to go out with a friend, beforehand, is one of the rituals of beauty culture. Let’s get poetic! *If the sun is gonna shine in an endless blue (climate-changed) sky, if the temperature’s going to climb, until eggs on sidewalks fry, then it’s lighter, summer-wear time.* I made sure Lisa and I had two days, in Paris, to shop the Rue Saint-Honoré. ***** 5th avenue, the 1st arrondissement is la capitale of fashion - after all, it’s Coco Chanel's old haunt. Now, we have Armani, Chloe, Dior, Michael Kors, Hermès and Versace - just to name a few - I mean, gag a fashionista. Looking for bargains? You’re in the wrong place. If you’re down and thinking the world is turning to.. well, something bad, then you NEED some fashion, some beauty and some elegance. You don’t even need to buy anything - browsing is sumptuous. The boutiques are sound-proofed - so the world won’t intrude - and thickly carpeted so even your steps are muffled - or marble floored, polished to a fractured brilliance under the lit spiderwebs of fallen-star-lights. And the fragrances - no cap - the very air is different - it smells like aged money - that was a joke - they take new money these days. What’s important, in these palaces of style, are the whispered promises of unattainable beauty. Just browsing will up your game, because inspiration is everywhere, in sheens that put butterflies to shame, supima-cottons as soft as a sigh, and dresses that swirl like magic - and so many accessories. Lisa and I are young and easily ignored. Sales staff in these boutiques wear a leotard of arrogance, that fits like skin - the arrogance of people talking down to lesser folk. Lisa gasped when she saw a delicate, white ecru-cotton and silk-poplin mid-length shirt-dress by Dior. “Look at this,” she said softly, running her fingers along the delicate hem. I checked the tag, it read: €2770 ($3000). At that moment, a salesgirl - who looked to be 25ish - stalked over with a "look but don't touch" vibe that implied we weren’t worthy to touch the merchandise - or maybe be there at all. I bristled for Lisa, who’d withdrawn her hand as if burnt. I fished my phone from my clutch (it has a card-carry-case attached) and waved my black Centurion® Card (which can serve as a fu^k-you passport), “Have you got this in a French-36?” I jibbed, obstreperously (of course I know Lisa’s size). If my return-rudeness stung the salesgirl, there was nothing she could do with it. An older lady that I assumed was her supervisor joined us, all smooth smiles and low honey voice, “Hello ladies,” she said, as she glided around us like a wraith. “Go see (about the dress),” she told the young clerk, dismissively. The original salesgirl gave us a brittle smile that came and went like an eye blink, “Oui,” she said, smartly, while spinning away like a top. “Would you like a glass of wine or champagne?” The supervisor purred. “Non, merci (No thank you),” I said, smiling curtly. “We have it,” the original sales girl announced a moment later. “We’ll take it,” I pronounced. “NOo,” Lisa said, jerking as if electrically shocked. I waved my hand, as if scattering dust, “My treat.” Lisa insisted on trying it on. It fit like a dream and she looked like a supermodel (My dress needed tailoring - the bust taken in sigh). So, at least we know what she’s wearing tonight. . . songs for this: Glamor Girl by Louie Austen Baby You’re a Superstar by NuDisco Comme ci, comme ça by ZAZ . Our cast: Lisa, (roommate) 20, Manhattanite ‘glamor girl’ (who’d bristle at that description but it’s hundo-p true.) - my bff. A fellow (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.

Continue reading...

It’s 1:30am and we were at a cute little dance club in Dublin called “The Sugar Club.” It’s a converted movie theater with tables in stadium seating rows. That night was Salsa themed, and the regulars were stylin’ - the men dressed in white Havana or Colima, Italian Linen and women in bright salsa dresses. The DJ was mixing a gr8 groove - with music from Bassia, Brazilian Girls, Kate the Cat, with some ElectroSwing thrown in from Tape Five, Pink Martini and Doja Cat (Yes, I asked the DJ for his playlist). The tiny, darkly-disco-sparkling dance floor was crowded and refrigerator cold. We had a good time. Irish guys are funny and unpredictable, they’ll say practically anything, “Shall I buy you a drink, or do you just want the money?” and those brogues make everything they say spankin’ hot. We all danced a few times, but Sunny’s a gwyn who never seemed to tire. Guys kept asking her to dance and she seemed happy to oblige - I would have collapsed already. There was a dead-fit guy, Rían, throwing a strong Chris Evans vibe, who seemed completely smitten with Sunny. He seemed a real dean but he didn’t 404 that Sunny’s femme-facing and that he might as well be offering lettuce to a shark. We’d discussed the possibility that things might come up and decided to avoid delicate public acts of disclosure (Sunny’s gay, Leong’s a communist, etc..) - we’re trespassing different cultures on this trip, after all. We explained to Rían that we were students, just in town for the Duran Duran concert, and consoled him with a couple of “Black & Golds” (Kahlua, whiskey and orange bitters) - he was a LOT of fun to talk to. The bartender asked me if I was one of the colleens with “Margot Robbie” - he was referring to Lisa - which Anna found amusing - but I think Lisa’s way phater than Margot.

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Jun 17, 2022

Jun 17, 2022 at 3:32 PM UTC

It’s 1:30am and we were at a cute little dance club in Dublin called “The Sugar Club.” It’s a converted movie theater with tables in stadium seating rows. That night was Salsa themed, and the regulars were stylin’ - the men dressed in white Havana or Colima, Italian Linen and women in bright salsa dresses. The DJ was mixing a gr8 groove - with music from Bassia, Brazilian Girls, Kate the Cat, with some ElectroSwing thrown in from Tape Five, Pink Martini and Doja Cat (Yes, I asked the DJ for his playlist). The tiny, darkly-disco-sparkling dance floor was crowded and refrigerator cold. We had a good time. Irish guys are funny and unpredictable, they’ll say practically anything, “Shall I buy you a drink, or do you just want the money?” and those brogues make everything they say spankin’ hot. We all danced a few times, but Sunny’s a gwyn who never seemed to tire. Guys kept asking her to dance and she seemed happy to oblige - I would have collapsed already. There was a dead-fit guy, Rían, throwing a strong Chris Evans vibe, who seemed completely smitten with Sunny. He seemed a real dean but he didn’t 404 that Sunny’s femme-facing and that he might as well be offering lettuce to a shark. We’d discussed the possibility that things might come up and decided to avoid delicate public acts of disclosure (Sunny’s gay, Leong’s a communist, etc..) - we’re trespassing different cultures on this trip, after all. We explained to Rían that we were students, just in town for the Duran Duran concert, and consoled him with a couple of “Black & Golds” (Kahlua, whiskey and orange bitters) - he was a LOT of fun to talk to. The bartender asked me if I was one of the colleens with “Margot Robbie” - he was referring to Lisa - which Anna found amusing - but I think Lisa’s way phater than Margot.

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Found you once Bet it'll never happens twice You're the most fun Full of advice Meet you everyday For you I pray Don't care what they say It's you I crave See you Everytime Once more and I'm fine You're my brightest dime Thank God you're mine Love you forever For you I'm better Never felt saver You're the only one i want more Than anything the world offers

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May 22, 2020

May 22, 2020 at 11:21 AM UTC

Found you once Bet it'll never happens twice You're the most fun Full of advice Meet you everyday For you I pray Don't care what they say It's you I crave See you Everytime Once more and I'm fine You're my brightest dime Thank God you're mine Love you forever For you I'm better Never felt saver You're the only one i want more Than anything the world offers

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Moral point of view, no books with any answers, my lover, it’s weird without you around & I have not yet mastered the words of poetry, to convey to you. While surprised that you ever loved, while I was screaming about everything being Holy. For this had changed the course of my affairs, it’s like I no longer have any rest, I’m sure my emotions are sending me to hell. Wept, to how I suffer, my stanzas are lost, though it seems selfish to vent for me only, I was your keeper, because you promised to be mine & war broke out.

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Apr 15, 2020

Apr 15, 2020 at 2:20 AM UTC

knowledge-variable

Moral point of view, no books with any answers, my lover, it’s weird without you around & I have not yet mastered the words of poetry, to convey to you. While surprised that you ever loved, while I was screaming about everything being Holy. For this had changed the course of my affairs, it’s like I no longer have any rest, I’m sure my emotions are sending me to hell. Wept, to how I suffer, my stanzas are lost, though it seems selfish to vent for me only, I was your keeper, because you promised to be mine & war broke out.

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yikes i love you guys and- i know i wasnt dating them first and that it was a mutual thing but god. im catching feelings

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Feb 22, 2020

Feb 22, 2020 at 11:10 PM UTC

yikes i love you guys and- i know i wasnt dating them first and that it was a mutual thing but god. im catching feelings

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Feb 21, 2020

Feb 21, 2020 at 11:40 PM UTC

i want to feel your bodies against mine

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Diamond rings Happy things You listen while she likes to sing And you watch when she's practicing You're so happy together I wish I could have that too But you two are stuck like glue I have nobody else to turn to Maybe I'll stay all alone...

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Nov 19, 2019

Nov 19, 2019 at 4:01 PM UTC

nothingisasitseems

Diamond rings Happy things You listen while she likes to sing And you watch when she's practicing You're so happy together I wish I could have that too But you two are stuck like glue I have nobody else to turn to Maybe I'll stay all alone...

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I’m getting older In an multitude of ways I can look at my yesterday and see so many things I thought I would have never seen I fell in love again when I thought I didn’t have anymore love in me I’m getting older Maybe he’ll still love me as much as I love him Im getting older

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Aug 20, 2019

Aug 20, 2019 at 7:52 AM UTC

I’m getting older In an multitude of ways I can look at my yesterday and see so many things I thought I would have never seen I fell in love again when I thought I didn’t have anymore love in me I’m getting older Maybe he’ll still love me as much as I love him Im getting older

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So sad I miss you... I love your brown silky hair Your eyes Your smile They ask what if... I'm sad and I miss you I want to cry my eyes dry Is it selfish love 'cause I enjoyed? 'cause you gave me so much....?

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Jul 28, 2019

Jul 28, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC

So sad I miss you... I love your brown silky hair Your eyes Your smile They ask what if... I'm sad and I miss you I want to cry my eyes dry Is it selfish love 'cause I enjoyed? 'cause you gave me so much....?

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People saying my girlfriend's address ? Before asking to sky, sea, or the engineers of a newly constructed sea-links. People are saying my girlfriends address. Some saying -She is in U.S. Some saying- She is married to another reputed person. Some saying- She is working with her previous job. People are saying my old girlfriend's address ?

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Jan 18, 2019

Jan 18, 2019 at 3:23 AM UTC

aRUN aI propo poem version-2(Girlfriends address)

People saying my girlfriend's address ? Before asking to sky, sea, or the engineers of a newly constructed sea-links. People are saying my girlfriends address. Some saying -She is in U.S. Some saying- She is married to another reputed person. Some saying- She is working with her previous job. People are saying my old girlfriend's address ?

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she is my world she makes me smile every time I see her I can't think of life without her she is my angel when I go thru hell she is my light when I only see the dark she is all I ever wanted she is my love!

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Jan 2, 2019

Jan 2, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC

she is my world she makes me smile every time I see her I can't think of life without her she is my angel when I go thru hell she is my light when I only see the dark she is all I ever wanted she is my love!

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no tengas miedo mi amor despójate de todo eso que te lastima y mírame a los ojos pone tus manos en mi cintura así yo me siento libre de poner las mías en tu cuello mírame a los ojos conecta conmigo y olvida olvida todo lo que alguna vez te atormento y sentí sentime a mi estoy acá con vos para mimarte y para decirte que pase lo que pase yo voy a estar acá con mis manos en tu cuello y ojalá vos siempre tengas las tuyas en mi cintura

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Apr 7, 2018

Apr 7, 2018 at 7:57 PM UTC

no tengas miedo mi amor despójate de todo eso que te lastima y mírame a los ojos pone tus manos en mi cintura así yo me siento libre de poner las mías en tu cuello mírame a los ojos conecta conmigo y olvida olvida todo lo que alguna vez te atormento y sentí sentime a mi estoy acá con vos para mimarte y para decirte que pase lo que pase yo voy a estar acá con mis manos en tu cuello y ojalá vos siempre tengas las tuyas en mi cintura

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“I won’t have ***** living in my house” As if that’s all you’ve said to offend me Unlucky for you I have a great memory I have a mental transcript of everything you’ve said to me 17 years of tyranny Where do I begin? All the way back to kindergarten The special ed teacher said she thinks I have dyslexia You said it’s an excuse for being stupid That was the first crime of many You’ve called me worthless, ugly, and unwanted plenty But actions speak louder than words You’ve thrown your empty bottles of gloom across the living room Crime after crime I’ve cleaned it up everytime 3 kids and I’m the only one, whose been “lucky” enough seen your gun In april of twenty fourteen you burnt my brothers funeral card Your fist has never hit me quite that hard My body is a canvas you painted black and blue Step back at look at your masterpiece, in her rubber-banded shoes Every day I become more and more like you If I ever have a daughter dear lord is she ******* Who gives a **** if I’m relatively gay 17 years you’ve lived with me everyday Also, why ***** plural? Am I gonna start an army or some **** Am I contagious? I am plenty religious I could count your sins You say it hurts your shins to kneel at church so you keep sitting And ******** on the person that I am Making him perform this scam At family parties pretending to be mine Because my love is a crime Are you out of your mind? Its fine, I’m not going to cut my hair This cross belongs around my neck You need a reality check Its 2018! I am allowed to be seen without a man holding my hand And protecting me from offensive words This is defence served 110 pounds I fell asleep to the sound of a car backfire ‘Call the therapist, this is dire’ Jesus, Mary, do everything you can There’s a chance she wont be marrying a man When life doesn’t go as planned just do more drugs Hit and yell I’ll put in earplugs But I’m going to push and I’m going to shove Until you let me fall in love

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Mar 21, 2018

Mar 21, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC

What Have I Said to Offend You?

“I won’t have ***** living in my house” As if that’s all you’ve said to offend me Unlucky for you I have a great memory I have a mental transcript of everything you’ve said to me 17 years of tyranny Where do I begin? All the way back to kindergarten The special ed teacher said she thinks I have dyslexia You said it’s an excuse for being stupid That was the first crime of many You’ve called me worthless, ugly, and unwanted plenty But actions speak louder than words You’ve thrown your empty bottles of gloom across the living room Crime after crime I’ve cleaned it up everytime 3 kids and I’m the only one, whose been “lucky” enough seen your gun In april of twenty fourteen you burnt my brothers funeral card Your fist has never hit me quite that hard My body is a canvas you painted black and blue Step back at look at your masterpiece, in her rubber-banded shoes Every day I become more and more like you If I ever have a daughter dear lord is she ******* Who gives a **** if I’m relatively gay 17 years you’ve lived with me everyday Also, why ***** plural? Am I gonna start an army or some **** Am I contagious? I am plenty religious I could count your sins You say it hurts your shins to kneel at church so you keep sitting And ******** on the person that I am Making him perform this scam At family parties pretending to be mine Because my love is a crime Are you out of your mind? Its fine, I’m not going to cut my hair This cross belongs around my neck You need a reality check Its 2018! I am allowed to be seen without a man holding my hand And protecting me from offensive words This is defence served 110 pounds I fell asleep to the sound of a car backfire ‘Call the therapist, this is dire’ Jesus, Mary, do everything you can There’s a chance she wont be marrying a man When life doesn’t go as planned just do more drugs Hit and yell I’ll put in earplugs But I’m going to push and I’m going to shove Until you let me fall in love

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How do you tell someone you like them? (Not to add more confusion....) But when you know them, and you see them happy (I know, I know, don't steal their happiness) But... You feel like they need to know, because it's not fair (Polygamy at it's finest, it'd work if you work for it) But that's not something anyone wants (But i wish I could experience everything, with all of you) 'Sides... It's not like you can love more than one person like that. (Especially when-) Especially when... One of them is your girlfriend and One of them has a girlfriend

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Mar 5, 2018

Mar 5, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC

How do you tell someone?

How do you tell someone you like them? (Not to add more confusion....) But when you know them, and you see them happy (I know, I know, don't steal their happiness) But... You feel like they need to know, because it's not fair (Polygamy at it's finest, it'd work if you work for it) But that's not something anyone wants (But i wish I could experience everything, with all of you) 'Sides... It's not like you can love more than one person like that. (Especially when-) Especially when... One of them is your girlfriend and One of them has a girlfriend

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Is it weird I thought the world was mines? I said I was karma I controlled what happened to people who did my wrong and I made sure of that The people I loved so dearly betrayed me so I gave them what they gave me, but instead of just a scar from the stab they gave me I gave them a jagger and twisted it inside them, I didn’t just give them a scar but I scarred their mind enternally I made their situation worst But you know what’s wrong? I’m not a god so do I regret what I’ve done Yes at times but a lesson learned is better than doing it again Vengeance WAS mines

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Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 2:53 AM UTC

Is it weird I thought the world was mines? I said I was karma I controlled what happened to people who did my wrong and I made sure of that The people I loved so dearly betrayed me so I gave them what they gave me, but instead of just a scar from the stab they gave me I gave them a jagger and twisted it inside them, I didn’t just give them a scar but I scarred their mind enternally I made their situation worst But you know what’s wrong? I’m not a god so do I regret what I’ve done Yes at times but a lesson learned is better than doing it again Vengeance WAS mines

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My heart is a powder keg Rigged with so much tnt that I'm afraid Each war beat might be my last Because inside, my walls are cracking On the stairwell to my brain there are cobwebs Dusted with the dew of my despair And In the caverns and cellars of my heart There are walls built so high and so strong that no one could ever hope to scale them Behind those walls there are locks on every door, but the locks are rusted over now with the hatred that my last love has shown me and the walls have cracks in them and cobwebs hang from their corners And the only thing they guard now is an empty room As each breath rattles in my ribcage I am reminded of you, of the mortality we desperately cling to like the fabricated Illusion of love And as your touch drips from my fingertips and your name wails at my lips I want you to know that it was you It was always you How am I supposed to move on When every move I make moves me one more move closer to the edge When every step, everything I see The raindrops falling from the sky and the Thunder howling in the clouds enacting the rage I cannot allow myself to feel The sunrise in the morning The ******* buttons on my phone And the God **** shirt on my back Remind me of you And I don't go around with a neon sign Proclaiming warning labels Like grocery store recipts Keeping track of how many times Ive been broken and repaired with tacky second rate stitches and the stories of my past don't have a happily ever after So...... Learn me slowly Please Be patient with my pages And I'm trying not to write another stupid poem about heartbreak but clearly that's not working so well Because lately that's all I can write about And there's only about a million ways I can say Goodbye

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Sep 27, 2017

Sep 27, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC

jamie-munford-duncan

Powder Keg Heart

My heart is a powder keg Rigged with so much tnt that I'm afraid Each war beat might be my last Because inside, my walls are cracking On the stairwell to my brain there are cobwebs Dusted with the dew of my despair And In the caverns and cellars of my heart There are walls built so high and so strong that no one could ever hope to scale them Behind those walls there are locks on every door, but the locks are rusted over now with the hatred that my last love has shown me and the walls have cracks in them and cobwebs hang from their corners And the only thing they guard now is an empty room As each breath rattles in my ribcage I am reminded of you, of the mortality we desperately cling to like the fabricated Illusion of love And as your touch drips from my fingertips and your name wails at my lips I want you to know that it was you It was always you How am I supposed to move on When every move I make moves me one more move closer to the edge When every step, everything I see The raindrops falling from the sky and the Thunder howling in the clouds enacting the rage I cannot allow myself to feel The sunrise in the morning The ******* buttons on my phone And the God **** shirt on my back Remind me of you And I don't go around with a neon sign Proclaiming warning labels Like grocery store recipts Keeping track of how many times Ive been broken and repaired with tacky second rate stitches and the stories of my past don't have a happily ever after So...... Learn me slowly Please Be patient with my pages And I'm trying not to write another stupid poem about heartbreak but clearly that's not working so well Because lately that's all I can write about And there's only about a million ways I can say Goodbye

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Ye best come in Mrs Scot said through gritted teeth Hannah's gain tae th' shop fur me she added. She closed the door after me and nodded with her head for me to follow her. Sit in thaur an' dornt tooch anythin' she said. I sat down and didn't touch a thing. The room was junked up with things. A photo in a frame on the mantel shelf showed a man in a kilt and a Tam o' Shanter. I assumed it was her father he looked out at me and I could imagine him saying whit ur ye daein' haur ye Englander? A fire blazed in the fireplace. The curtains were parted on to a dull day. Mrs Scot put her head in the doorway. Ah suppose ye want a bevvy? she said. A tea please I said one sugar. She looked at me then went out the door. I felt chilled and alone like one left out on a dark moor.

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Jul 29, 2017

Jul 29, 2017 at 4:10 AM UTC

BEST COME IN 1960

Ye best come in Mrs Scot said through gritted teeth Hannah's gain tae th' shop fur me she added. She closed the door after me and nodded with her head for me to follow her. Sit in thaur an' dornt tooch anythin' she said. I sat down and didn't touch a thing. The room was junked up with things. A photo in a frame on the mantel shelf showed a man in a kilt and a Tam o' Shanter. I assumed it was her father he looked out at me and I could imagine him saying whit ur ye daein' haur ye Englander? A fire blazed in the fireplace. The curtains were parted on to a dull day. Mrs Scot put her head in the doorway. Ah suppose ye want a bevvy? she said. A tea please I said one sugar. She looked at me then went out the door. I felt chilled and alone like one left out on a dark moor.

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I cycled to the farmhouse where Milka lived. After resting my cycle by the fence I walked to the front door and knocked. Her mother opened the door. She smiled and welcomed me in. She said Milka was in the bath and offered me a cup of tea. I sat at the kitchen table and watched as she walked around preparing the teapot and arranging three cups and saucers. I studied her the way she moved her hips and how warm she seemed. She turned and asked me how I was. I said I was fine taking in her ample ******* and the colourful apron she wore. She turned again and I breathed in the air the smell of bread and the logs burning on the Aga and her motherly milky smell. I wondered how long Milka would be and how she looked in the bath with nothing on wishing I could go up and wash her back and front. Her mother put the cup and saucer in front of me and sat down opposite and offered me biscuits from an open tin. I smiled at her and she talked about Milka her eyes on me large and liquidy like small seas. I pictured myself a few weeks before in front of Milka on my knees.

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May 30, 2017

May 30, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC

BENNY AT THE FARMHOUSE 1964.

I cycled to the farmhouse where Milka lived. After resting my cycle by the fence I walked to the front door and knocked. Her mother opened the door. She smiled and welcomed me in. She said Milka was in the bath and offered me a cup of tea. I sat at the kitchen table and watched as she walked around preparing the teapot and arranging three cups and saucers. I studied her the way she moved her hips and how warm she seemed. She turned and asked me how I was. I said I was fine taking in her ample ******* and the colourful apron she wore. She turned again and I breathed in the air the smell of bread and the logs burning on the Aga and her motherly milky smell. I wondered how long Milka would be and how she looked in the bath with nothing on wishing I could go up and wash her back and front. Her mother put the cup and saucer in front of me and sat down opposite and offered me biscuits from an open tin. I smiled at her and she talked about Milka her eyes on me large and liquidy like small seas. I pictured myself a few weeks before in front of Milka on my knees.

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As the first time, I took up drugs I had remained careless about my lungs Disappeared in your love and affection not in your real perfection Always in my dreams hearing the same voice Cause my love towards you weren't a choice Yet, love at first sight You enter my heart in the red light Just like struggling in a fight And have just started to feel Your love is become addictive ever since I've changed my ways for the better Like I actually matter Because it as such is addiction Now it's over to overcome Since I'm always waiting for you to come Whether they throw me away in the slammer I'll always be next to you calling your name As if you were born of fame And saying loudly I LOVE YOU I'm ripe for risking my life for you Simply because I seek for you to be my partner Already known your intention, you're not looking for a short term relation ( ship) This is what I really want Only to be mine for the rest of my life And to be my wife Stay committed for your love forever Not wishing one day we will end up losing each other I hope we never drift apart Cause you're never too much And you're always enough

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Mar 23, 2017

Mar 23, 2017 at 5:15 PM UTC

ABOVE THE SKY YOU WERE BORN!

As the first time, I took up drugs I had remained careless about my lungs Disappeared in your love and affection not in your real perfection Always in my dreams hearing the same voice Cause my love towards you weren't a choice Yet, love at first sight You enter my heart in the red light Just like struggling in a fight And have just started to feel Your love is become addictive ever since I've changed my ways for the better Like I actually matter Because it as such is addiction Now it's over to overcome Since I'm always waiting for you to come Whether they throw me away in the slammer I'll always be next to you calling your name As if you were born of fame And saying loudly I LOVE YOU I'm ripe for risking my life for you Simply because I seek for you to be my partner Already known your intention, you're not looking for a short term relation ( ship) This is what I really want Only to be mine for the rest of my life And to be my wife Stay committed for your love forever Not wishing one day we will end up losing each other I hope we never drift apart Cause you're never too much And you're always enough

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Tell me what you had for dinner and what you and your mom debated about across the table. Tell me how every time she cooks alone you wonder what your dad would look like with his hands across her hips like he used to do when they were in love. Tell me how you don’t believe in love anymore. Tell me how everything that is whole can be torn apart. How you have transformed yourself from a plain block into a Rubix cube emerging from the perpetual change in your life. How the colours no longer match on any side no matter how many times you try to turn things around You don’t know what to believe in anymore. Tell me you believe in her. Tell me how hard it is to stay together and how hard it is to stay apart. Tell me how you hate sleeping with someone beside you but you hugged her tightly in the middle of the night because even in your dreams you were scared to lose her. Lately her side of the bed has only had your shadows surrounding it. They wonder if she’ll be back or if they should change their address to your bed frame and tell the mail man to forward any letters meant for her to an address where the only kisses that wake her up are the ones that nameless men use to thank her for the night before. The ones That’s the thing about the calm after the storm, is it happiness or just relief.

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Mar 8, 2017

Mar 8, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC

Are you coming back?

Tell me what you had for dinner and what you and your mom debated about across the table. Tell me how every time she cooks alone you wonder what your dad would look like with his hands across her hips like he used to do when they were in love. Tell me how you don’t believe in love anymore. Tell me how everything that is whole can be torn apart. How you have transformed yourself from a plain block into a Rubix cube emerging from the perpetual change in your life. How the colours no longer match on any side no matter how many times you try to turn things around You don’t know what to believe in anymore. Tell me you believe in her. Tell me how hard it is to stay together and how hard it is to stay apart. Tell me how you hate sleeping with someone beside you but you hugged her tightly in the middle of the night because even in your dreams you were scared to lose her. Lately her side of the bed has only had your shadows surrounding it. They wonder if she’ll be back or if they should change their address to your bed frame and tell the mail man to forward any letters meant for her to an address where the only kisses that wake her up are the ones that nameless men use to thank her for the night before. The ones That’s the thing about the calm after the storm, is it happiness or just relief.

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