Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Bryan Nov 2021
We
Relinquish
Ink
To
Enjoy
Relating
Stories
Bryan Nov 2021
Most
Others
Needlessly
Suffer
Trauma
Early,
Right?
Silence.
Bryan Nov 2021
evoL

Look at this man.
Do you know what I'm after?
Do you know what happens
when screams replace laughter?

You're a platter.

...couldn't be improved with fried batter.
...but does that matter
when you intentionally make me madder?

Tears, rips and tatters,
thrown swears and adders
slice up the cadaver.

Blood splatters.

What is it that you're after?
Is it somewhere up this ladder?
The higher that you climb
the more your life gets sadder.

Looking at yourself,
you know that you're mad at her.

...and your sad matters,
...but only to sad havers
of bad batterers gathered
to have their fractures spattered
with words designed to flatter.

That's love backwards.
Bryan Nov 2021
Spoiled

I'm just a lower-class ox,
clodding in the ****
of the beast
tied in front of me.

All we do is argue
and we fight
over everything.

Why is it that money's
problematic, automatically?

Why is it you spend
all of your time
being mad at me?

Accused infidelity,
suspicious activity
lead me to believe
that it's a question
of your loyalty.

I treated you like royalty
and now you're just spoiled meat.
The magnitude of cruelty
has broken free and tainted me.
Bryan Nov 2021
The Years Are Upon Us

Trial and tribulation,
achievement and celebration,
are cared for not by the marching of the ages.
So time passes for all us, stopping for none.
Bryan Nov 2021
Felicity

I met her, once again.
In the heat of the midday.
The air, it wavered fiercely,
when she walked.
(She had her way.)

Her presence says it best,
in her every grade of shade.
There is a beauty
in her action
the likes of which
I cannot say.

When she smiles,
it is glory.
She turns the night
into the day.

Her time with me,
is more than time.
It is bliss.
In every way.
Bryan Nov 2021
Your Song


A long time ago,
there once was a boy,
who truly held the feeling
of peace at his employ.

It was beheld in the form
of a girl who brought him joy,
but she left with a rush,
leaving behind a her-shaped void.

He never once had kissed her.
She never heard his song.
Yet sorely he still missed her
on days that grew too long.

Then there came a day,
once the boy was a man
that he saw this girl, a woman
and he thought he could understand;

though they weren't far apart,
they lived in very different lands
and these feelings in his gut
were never in his hands.

It was then, that he told her
she was the one that got away.
He wished that he could hold her,
but it was far too late to change.

He wished that he could say it,
but would it sound far too strange?
He wished that he could show her,
but how could he demonstrate?

Then, he remembered:
a note from long ago.
He had once told her he loved her,
and it once had brought him hope.

She never said it back,
but his spirit wasn't broke,
as you may tell from these words,
this very song that he wrote.
Next page