Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2018 Hathere
jenna
a letter
 Dec 2018 Hathere
jenna
dear you,

i’m in love.
yes. you were
waiting, i
bet, for this.
this time, though,
it is not
what you would
think. it’s me
this time, not
you, although
it’s still you,
but not in
the way it
used to be
you. it’s my
fault this time,
my doing,
my painful,
pitiful,
suffering.
it’s you in
the sense that
i cannot
control you.

this time,

it’s your mind and your thoughts
the things that slip off of your tongue
the words you put, pencil to paper
the ideas that come out in your songs

it’s your eyes and your sight
the careful observation of beauty
the need to bask in warm, pure light
the stare you give me, rarely now

it’s your movements and your touch
the hugs where you grip my shoulders
the times where i’m drunk and playing with your fingers
the warmth you give off and your gorgeous smile

none of them
are mine to
have, to take
to keep, to
love, to break

i miss you
and to go
and detach
to break what
we have, that’s
the hard way
out. but i
am trying
to help me.

i feel the
same way i
did when you
said i was
wrong about
this. about
how i feel.

i’m hoping
disposing
myself of
you, means that
the dreams will
go away
too. but if
they stay,
i’ll give you
a quick call.
probably
a text, to
be honest.

i love you,
unhealthily,
with every
part of me.

keep in touch,
please.

love,

me.
it is better to regret doing something instead of not doing it at all.
 Nov 2018 Hathere
Edmund black
I know a man
who wakes up
every morning, goes out of
his way to preach love to others
and at the end of the night , he has
no one to hold , no one to love him

I know a man
Who goes out of his way
to preach peace to every child
in the neighborhood and at
the end of the night , he Cannot
find peace within himself
He lives in darkness

I know a man
who goes out of his way
to feed the beautiful birds
at his favorite park, and at the end
of the night he has nothing to eat
he goes to bed hungry

I know a man
who goes out of his way
to give his all to everyone
and at the end of the night
all he owns is the clothes
on his back

I know a man
Who served his country
Fought for freedom
For civil rights
So all of us can sleep well
At night , and at
the end of night
He has no home to go to
He sleeps on a bench
at his favorite park

I know a man
who goes out his way
to do everything right
even when nothing is
going right in his own life

I know that  man
and I can only pray
that one day I can be
half of the man that he is

NOW
—————-

Who
saves the savers ?
Who
gives the givers ?
Who
heals the healers ?
Who
loves the Lover’s ?
Where
do you put your hurts
when your hands are full ?

TIME TO SAVE THE WORLD!
Allen this one is for you my friend. And brothers and sisters let us please remember what Thanksgiving is truly about... it’s about love , it’s about sharing, it’s about giving a helping hand to the less fortunates , it’s about recognizing the richest blessings , the beauty around us, and water each other. As the temperatures dropping if you cannot provide someone with shelter maybe there’s an extra old comforter somewhere deep in the closet someone like Allen can put to good use. Thank you for reading and may God bless you all and your family doing the holiday seasons and always!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
 Nov 2018 Hathere
Em MacKenzie
Tell me I’m not stupid for allowing myself to feel,
searching out for the next wound before letting the former heal,
I’ve been convincing myself that the invisible path is real,
but it’s not wide enough for two; one can stand and one can kneel.

If there’s anything in this world that tightens my chest,
it’s the moment I am strangled by vulnerability.
I keep it chained away to the very best,
to the very best of all my abilities.
Take all those thrown away phrases
and piece them back together to hit my ears
it’s funny how the long silence still amazes,
amazes me after all these quiet years.

Are you Sonic the hedgehog,
‘cause this is a chaos emerald.
Wipe away the tears to see the fog,
my world shakes when once it trembled.
I’ve got an easy road ahead of me
where the path could be so easy,
but I’m drawn to walk into the sea,
I wish that instinctive pull would leave me.

We humans are such destructive creatures
we turn soil to scorched earth with just one touch.
It’s the curse of emotions and all it features,
makes us decline a cast and accept a crutch.
We fall prey to our monsters like a disease,
do I pick life support or a clean cut cure?
A solid steel spine or weak and shaking knees?
Toxic lungs or a gasp of air too pure?

Should I swallow this gulp of mundane routine
conform and erase all individuality?
The white picket fence in photographs is so pristine
but it’s covered in dust and mold the naked eye can’t see.

My storybook ending is incomplete
as I didn’t much care for the ending.
I traded in tragedy instead of something sweet,
‘cause I’ve never been so good at pretending.
All along there are holes both in the souls and plot,
and I wish to roll but can’t afford the toll as empty hands are all I got
 Nov 2018 Hathere
Bridjitta
He loved you
So don't you ever think that
He's only playing with your heart
You are important to him
It's not true that
He broke your heart
Because you know for sure that
You are more than enough for him
It's not true that
He's loving someone else,
He left you,
He chose someone else,
Because the truth is
His heart beats for you alone
Don't ever think that
Anytime he's willing to let you go
The truth is
He'll love you until eternity
Don't ever think that
He's lying.
Believe me,
This is the truth.

(Now read from bottom to top)
 Nov 2018 Hathere
Jonathan Witte
I
I stole my brother’s car and drove to Phoenix in the dark. Bluegreen glow of dashboard gauges, the faint scent of roadkill and desert marigolds. Tap. Tap. Tap. Insects slapping the windshield like rain. How many miles does it take to turn yourself around, to rise up from ashes? Keep driving. Drive until the sun blooms.

II
Some days were more dire than others. CCTV footage confirms I pawned a shotgun, a Gibson guitar, and my wife’s engagement ring at the pawnshop next to Fatty’s Tattoo parlor. The typographically accurate Declaration of Independence inscribed on my back also confirms this.

III
I ran the tilt-a-whirl at the Ashtabula county fair, fattening up on fried Oreos and elephant ears, flirting behind tent ***** with the cute contortionist with strawberry-blonde hair.

IV
I derailed in a dive bar.

V
I disappeared in a city lit by lavender streetlights, where buildings blotted out the stars and the traffic signals kept perfect time.
I picked through trash bins. I paid for love with drugstore wine.

VI
I closed my eyes on a mountain road. The sheriff extracted me from a ****** snowbank.

VII
I holed up for weeks in an oceanfront motel, dazed by the roar of the breakers. Each morning I drew back the curtains and lost myself in the crisscrossing patterns of whitecaps, the synchronous flight of sanderlings above the dunes. I dreamed of dead horseshoe ***** rolling in with the tide.

VIII
The moon over my shoulder tightened into focus like a prison spotlight. One night the barking dogs undid me. Goodnight, children. Goodbye, my love. I capitulated to the candor of a naked mattress. I grew my beard, an insomniac in a jail cell clinging to bars the color of a morning dove.

IV
I coveted the house keys of strangers.

X
I opened and closed many doors. I sang into the mouths of storm drains. I stepped out of many rooms only to find myself in the room I had just left. Despite all my leaving, I remained.
Next page