#tho
one hit right here
hit right here
hit right here
went through right
there
feel me?
hit up here n###a!
we really in the hood tho
we really with this ****
n###a this **** ain't for
play play this **** ain't
for fun we
really do
this **** we
really live
this life
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
poems are my escape
into worlds where sense
is measured in meter and rhyme,
and the undercurrent of meaning.
i make regrettable decisions
and excise those
that meant me well
in exchange for a pain
less familiar.
i would apologize,
but pride dictates
i stand my ground
and put pen to paper
instead.
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 1:44 AM UTC
thats wrong
i just hate the class
its becuase she’s in it
and i can never focus
on the equations and logarithms
becuase
of the way she bites her lip
when trying to solve a problem
how she unconciously fiddles with her carcoal hair
as she listens to her music
but most of all
becuase she smiles at the face behind me
who happens to be her boyfriend
if i position myself correctly
its almost like she’s smiling at me.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 11:31 AM UTC
I live in my head
behind close doors
where I talk to my
thoughts.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 7:12 AM UTC
When I'm asking why
you love me
I'm really asking
why the wind blows
at this point.
The only answer
you couldn't explain;
How can your sun still shine
in the midst of my rain?
These unsaid things
are better off said,
because you forgave me
for everything but to you
I couldn't allow the same.
A patience for distress
I'll never understand;
A slow burning candle
in a sea of darkness..
My small light of hope
dancing in the wind.
How is this possible?
The one thing I can explain -
the reason you love me,
those answers must be the same.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 2:00 PM UTC
Poems are lovely
simple words painting vivid images
lovely paintings of girlies who
have long since left me
with only words left to express
nothing left to leave my mouth
only write
soon, i will serenade my love to show her
how someone can truly love another human
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
a lifetime of gestation;
of making myself,
of bringing myself
back from you,
of trying to get over someone I was
only ever under.
bend me, shape me
whichever way you’d like me
for I could be the apple of your eye if only you’d
let me;
- kiss me to
pulp
you turned me inside out,
naked,
viscerally
exposed -
heart beating tenderly not upon my sleeve but
atop my inverted chest;
I asked you to cradle it,
care
swat me like a fly;
a throwaway affair.
saying you care about ‘this’,
but not me, I think
lacklustre lover lacking the
love in the
- making
and above all, I keep thinking about how unrequited love
is the sweetest kind of self-inflicted wound.
something that never was shouldn’t be so much,
oh but it hurts just right.
I’m forever pulling cells,
bits of myself apart to
examine, deconstruct.
cytoplasmic, holding it all together,
I'm just looking at your scars, you said.
would you like to add another?
suture me then pick me apart
- I’d let you.
It's not your fault you didn't
know, don't
know how I feel, not really;
I don't want you to run
better to have a piece of you than
none.
we only do this to ourselves,
I don't blame you.
this mouth tastes like an ashtray
I'm sorry,
it’s just that a lot of sweet nothings have died and
burnt away in here before they could be said.
everything changes yet it all stays the same
we know how this story goes,
so please don't tell me I'm
beautiful from all angles
because I can’t take it. I can’t.
rising for him, a flowerbed for the spring
blush as pink, which,
bleeding into the edge of the skyline at sunset,
anamorphic, consumes.
[HE LOVES ME HE LOVES ME NOT
HE LOVES ME HE LOVES ME NOT]
my heart is so heavy
with the ways in which I love you
quickening,
the birth of something new -
or maybe I just have a penchant for self-destruction.
and on getting out alive:
we’re all here,
doctoring our hearts,
recovering from the cataclysm of it all.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
I'm sorry I let go of your hand.
I'm sorry you saw me cry.
I'm bitter because you keep me warm without any fire
and because I'm still as clueless as ever.
I'm sorry I am a plant that sprouted in your heart and I'm sorry that I wilt when you forget to water me.
I'm as abandoned as a building or an old playground in a town full of adults and the rain doesn't calm me down anymore.
I guess I just needed you to know that because I'm pulling my petals off one by one.
I love me not. I love me not.
I'm wilting again and you're a drought who can describe the water.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC