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furies Aug 2014
I hate myself
and my blandness.
I hate my hair
and my sadness.
I hate my nose
and my bruteness.
I hate my feet
and my bitterness.
I hate my legs
and my desperateness.
I hate my wrists
and my selfconsciousness.

Perfection
Beauty
Happy
Brilliance
Selfless
Excitement

Nothing.
Kally Jan 2013
The way he touched me
when we first got serious
was much different from how
he touched me at the end
of it all.

His hands used to be soft
and his eyes drank in
every curve of my body,
every freckle of my skin.
He would look up at me like
I was a new adventure,
and I knew that this whole
night of romance was for me-
he wanted me to really feel
how much he cherished me.

I miss those days
immensely.

At the end his hands were
much more rough,
his eyes averted mine.
He couldn't see me as a treasure-
I was just flesh under his own.
It became all about his lust,
his desperateness to feel something real.

And that night that held
a surprise showing of
grins and grimaces and
a couple almost-kisses,
it felt like home.
I am terrified to remember
that night because
I realized something:
His fingers grazed my skin
like they did
in the beginning,
he looked at me like I was new.

It's terrifying because
the only thing holding me together
is knowing that the boy I love
is nothing like the boy I left.
And now that I caught that glimpse,
and now that I know he's
exactly the same as he used to be,
my head is spinning and
my heart spasms in pain.
I was wrong and there are no words
to describe how sad that makes me.

But I made the choice
to walk away from the confusion
for enough time to realize
that I'm okay with being alone.

And even if I were to find someone new,
I would always feel like I was cheating,
like anything I could ever feel
for someone else
would be a lie.
And even if I were to be with him again,
I would feel like I was doing him
a disservice,
like even if I was loving him,
I still wouldn't be genuine enough
to make him feel loved.
I will always and forever feel like
I am cheating on the man I love.

And that's the price I will pay
for the immense disservice
I have already paid him.
Mymai Yuan Sep 2010
I swirled my fingertips on the surface of the water and sent a message across with shiny, glossy ripples that grew slowly, and gracefully. He kneeled on the other side of the moonlit pond and watched as the ripples from my fingertips reached him. He cupped the ripples of the water into his palm and drank the cold water, sighing happily.
“What does it taste like?” I whispered hoarsely, as loud as I dared to be while knowing we would be reprimanded fiercely for sneaking out of the huts at this time of night.
“Love” he called back.
I burst out laughing in panting breaths and tried to stifle the noise with my fists. I heard him bellow out, and the echoes rang freely through the woods before he quickly shoved his face into the water and laughed in there, the bubbles of his laughter surfacing violently.
“You idiot” I whispered joyfully when he brought his head up from the water, his dark hair curled against his forehead, “I didn’t even write anything to do with love. I wrote how foolish of a boy you are.”
“And you still stick with me so that’s love isn’t it?” he teased me. His finger tips swirled in the water for a minute. “Your turn to taste, Masra”
I waited till the ripples hit the side of the pond and quickly dipped my tongue in and lapped the water. I pursed my lips, pretending to debate what his message was. The surface of the black water was littered with reflection of the stars. It was so beautiful that I momentarily forgot the little game we were playing and gasped, “Oh stars!”
He took a quick intake of breath and stared up at me with wide eyes. “Really?” he asked in an unbelieving tone.
“What do you mean?”
“Stars?” he asked again, sounding like a sweet little confused child.
“Yes!” I laughed. “Stars!” and I splashed the surface of the water to show him.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe you could read, I mean, taste that... That’s incredible…”
It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. I decided to play along anyways and whispered dramatically, “Yeah, but I didn’t know what you were trying to say”
“A million stones on fire with wishes
Yet the brightest star is not up there” he recited his favorite lines from an old love poem.
“You are disgustingly soppy” I got up from kneeling by the pond and treaded softly on the dry leaves so that they wouldn’t crackle so loud. Reaching him, I kneeled down beside him and ran my fingers through his curly wet locks. His dark eyelashes were still wet with water and the chestnut eyes gleamed brightly.
I curled into his lap comfortably like a cat and he rolled over with me lying on top, while his strong arms held me. I buried my face into the skin of his beautiful brown neck and inhaled the sweet, musky smell. Reab smoothed my hair before murmuring huskily, “Why do you always do that?”
“It smells like you, the old Reab smell. It makes me feel safe and warm and happy.”
“I love you.”
“Do you think we’ll always be happy like this?” I asked, speaking of my deepest fear.
“I will never stop loving you, if that’s what you mean. And if we are caught sneaking out, I’m pretty sure no one would be too surprised. They all know from the way I look at you I intend to marry you when Chief thinks you’re old enough and finally say okay.”
I laughed at the thought of Chief being able to give me away.
With my parents both gone since I was a baby, Chief had adopted me as his daughter and he loved me tremendously for all his lecturing ways. Reab laughed a little too but without any fear of Chief rejecting him. Chief loved Reab too and approved of us most of the time.
“Do you remember when he caught us making ‘sheep-eyes’ at each other as he put it and he was furious?” We chuckled at the memory of Chief turning storm on us, declaring we were too young.
“What would he say now?” he turned my face to face his and kissed me for a while, with the wind blowing the tendrils of my hair on his face. He smiled mid-way through our kiss, for the soft strands of my hair on his face always tickled him.
I didn’t want to continue with my question after that happy moment. But I had to; he was the only man who would tell me the truth. “Our tribe has enemies. We have many men, many strong men… but I know we are in a constant threat. I have seen the midnight meetings you men hold when you think we are asleep and more weapons that normal are being made nowadays.”
He looked at me with sad eyes; with so much love and desire burning in them that my own eyes began to swell up with tears. I fluttered my lids to get rid of the wetness but he reached over and caught a tear on his pinky and licked it. Then he licked all the tears off my face and I giggled as his tongue flicked over the tearstains on my cheeks.
“The tribe is in some danger. You and I are not. I will love you forever.” I shook my head and was about to interrupt with another fearful question when he continued, “You know what Chief always says. We don’t live just one life. I loved you since we were babies. You know what I think?”
“What?” I asked, his voice slightly soothing my fears.
“I think I’ve known you before. There’s no way you can know someone the way I know you in the short life time we’ve lived. This is not the first time we’ve met.”
“You’re not worried if a battle comes we won’t be together?”
“No.” he answered and kissed my forehead.
“Why?” I couldn’t get rid off the idea of such a terrible fate.
“I think…” he struggled to get the words out, “I think we’ll always be together somehow. Masra, I’m… I’m just not afraid”
We lay there for a while until I fell asleep in his arms. I was awoken a little later with him shaking me softly for us to sneak back into our own huts.
There was a little advantage in having both my parents gone. Lela, my cousin who shared the hut with me, stirred only a little as I crept back in.



“I’ve been hearing from your sister that lately you have been waking very late. I don’t approve of this laziness.” Chief said to me as I sat on the floor of his hut, admiring the new spear he had just made. I sharpened the stone a little for him and smiled up brightly. His face softened. Chief was not usually an easy person to get around, but he always said he loved me more than was good for me. “I saw Reab today. He didn’t look so alert and awake.”
My mind clicked into place as I realized Chief had his suspicions. “Reab?” I inquired with an innocent expression. “Is he ill?”
“He just looked tired.” Chief replied with raised eyebrows, his eyes were a little puzzled. I had fooled him for now.
I balanced the spear in my hand. “You hold a spear too well for a woman” he grunted. “Spending too much time with me, I suppose. You should spend more time with your sister Lela. It would have been different if your mother was still alive. She would’ve taught you some womanly manners.”
“I think I’m feminine enough.”
“Look at you, blundering around after the men of the village, killing creatures and planning your attack even better than my men.”
“I don’t plan Chief; it just comes to me”
“Making it even worst!” he cried with a hidden pride.
I burst out laughing and bade him good night. He ruffled my hair fondly. “You go to sleep now Masra. Get some good sleep. Tell Reab that too” his eyes sparkled wickedly. Perhaps I hadn’t fooled him after all.
“You tell Reab, won’t you? I won’t see him till tomorrow morning.” I replied demurely.



And here passed, long uneventful days with the occasional nights that Reab and I would sneak out of the huts to spend the cool nights together and forcing ourselves out of bed at the crack of dawn along with the villagers, exhausted but happy. I suspected Chief still had his own wary thoughts, but with a denial somewhere in his mind, he did not seek to expose the truth or confine stricter rules on me through Lela. The few months that went by, I watched as Reab grew from a boy to a man.
A man I loved more than life itself.
One night, as I was lying in his arms I poked a thumb against his forehead and breathed out happily before nestling into his chest.
“What?” he asked me, amused at my random, loving behavior.
“I like to check that you’re real.”
He had no words in reply to that but tightened his hold on me, and swiftly kissed my dark hair with a sudden passion. His fingers caressed my head, and he inhaled the flowery perfume from the brown strands clutched in his hand.
“I wish you a long and happy life.” I whispered softly, afraid of the feelings that were surging through me.
“With you.” he replied back.
“No. Not just with me… anywhere… as long as you’re happy.”
“So with you then…”
Some days after that night, when it was pouring so furiously everyone had retreated back into their huts to cozy up, gossip, and flirt while warming their hands on hot wooden mugs we snuck off and climbed a special tree.
It was special because it was a giant, and very old with gnarled branches and knobs that made it easy to grip on with our toes, but the trunk itself was as smooth as a baby’s skin. It overlooked most of the village and the canopy was so thick it protected us from the rain except for the small wet drops that would escape through.
The tree stood apart from the woods and was very difficult to get to. One had to climb several other trees to reach it, ducking in and out of the tangle of branches up in the canopy like a maze. Only Reab and I had spent enough time up there to discover the path in reaching it. We were yet to discover how to reach it without getting scratches and bleeding scabs all over our skin.
Every time the thunder roared deafeningly Reab would yell, “I love you!” and no one could hear but Reab, the heavens, our special little tree and I.
He was so beautiful; like a lithe dangerous animal and his muscles were graceful and strong as he climbed around on the branches. I wished for the rest of our days to be like this and I remembered the lines he had recited to me only a little while ago,
““A million stones on fire with wishes
Yet the brightest star is not up there”

*

A distant roar erupted. The stars had not granted my wish, they had granted my deepest fear. The sound of drums rumbled steadily over the noise of screaming villagers, over the noise of animal fear in those I loved and lived with.
It was the sign that our enemies were finally in sight. We had been waiting for there attack all year long.
Lela grabbed me by the arm. “The chief says all women must flee!” she gasped and choked. Her eyes were leaking with tears. I stubbornly shook away her hand and I could see the desperateness growing in her eyes.
“There is no time to cry Lela”, I tried saying confidently but my voice shook. “Where is Reab?”
Even in her hysterical state she did not want to answer the question I already knew the answer to. “Where is Reab?” I repeated. When she did not reply I narrowed my eyes.
In the face of danger I had never been woman-like and cowered.
Chief had raised me stare any wild beast straight into its cold, predatory eyes before slaying it. I was not unfamiliar to thrusting a jagged dagger into the heart of danger.
I would not leave a man I loved behind like the running footsteps of women carrying their babies, pushing old people along, and dragging wailing children were doing.
I would not leave and I would fight when I could.
Lela stared at me as if she’d just read my mind.  “You may not fight Masra!” she cried. I pushed her aside.
“Help the women evacuate! Grab a baby, help a village elderly; just do it Lela!” I yelled violently and ran through the women who were running towards the woods.
I shoved women aside to get to the battle. My long legs tangled with the other woman, and I fell on my knees. They were both bleeding badly when I got up. Running with my knees stinging, a huge man suddenly grabbed me and swung me to face him. For one moment, I thought he was Reab and I clutched onto him; then I saw it was Chief, and I clutched to him even tighter.
“Chief, please don’t make me go away! Please let me fight with you!” I was screeching and begging with no sanity left in me.
He smiled weakly, “I wanted you to come without little Lela, I knew you would be headed this way. I have not much time Masra, my men need me. I have something I want to give you to make sure you will be safe enough to last through this war if I die,” he spoke softly.
I shook my head and hugged him. “But- but you- you wont!”
Chief gave me a sad smile. “I don’t know that.”
His brown hands reached to his neck and tugged a simple black leather string free. He shoved it into my hands. “Remember this, Masra. Just say to it, ‘Jack, Jack, shine the light’ when you feel there is nobody left in the world for you. Be ready for what happens. Goodbye Masra…”
He touched my cheek and warmth spread though me, momentarily making me feel safe.
“Why Jack?” I asked wretchedly, in a detached curiosity and trying to prolong the moment that Chief would be safe.
Jack was a commoner’s name; no one in our tribe was called Jack. We all had strong, powerful names that spoke of destiny, truth and purity.
“Chief Traben!” a man cried from the noises of surging mob of warriors.
“Go, Masra, go!” Chief said hurriedly, and pushed me away before whipping out of sight.
Chief had been like my best friend, my big brother and … my father. I wanted to fight with him, for him. But I knew in doing that, I would go against his wishes, and that was the last thing I would ever want to do.
A sudden thought made me realize I did not have to fight. I just had to be there or I would **** somebody in my own village for leaving behind loved ones. I knotted the black leather string determinedly on my neck.
I ran to the bottom of a slippery tree and climbed up to the canopy and began to duck in and out, swinging between and onto branches in the maze-like chaos of sticks and concentrated leaves to get to the special tree Reab and I shared.
I hid among the thick tangle; so thick no arrows would be able to pierce me and no enemy would see me. Growling and cursing myself, I remembered I carried no weapons with me and hastily patted my clothing to check again.
Then I remembered it would be useless to have any weapons unless I intended to go down there, for the abundant tangle worked both ways. A spear thrown from where I was would only get stuck in the dense branches below.
I could see the battle though, and that was enough: for now. I searched vainly for Reab, scampering along the top, trying to find where Reab was. I was wild with fury for him for coming.
He was just a boy, newly turned a man. He could still run and hide without shame. When I had him back in my arms again, I was sure to hit him and berate him for choosing to fight for me instead of being safe for me.
It never occurred to me once that Reab might be dead.
It still didn’t occur to me when I saw his body lying on the dirt below, with a man from a village - someone I couldn’t recognize from this height- dragging him. I shouted out, careless of the arrows of enemies.
For the first time in my life, I was terrified of blood: the blood that was seeping out of the wound on his stomach. I didn’t think he was dead; I believed he was injured and I thought of all the herbal concoctions I knew that I could paste over the wound to clean and heal it.
It still didn’t occur to me Reab was dead when the man left him by the bottom of a tree to return and fight. The men in our village did not leave those who could be healed. They stayed and helped them heal to the best of their ability before hiding their healing bodies’ safe in a bush. They only left behind those they could do no more for.
I trembled at anger in the neglect one of our men villagers had shown Reab; the disrespect in it. I would **** him if he were not killing our enemy. Somehow, in the wild pulsing of my body, I found myself climbing down and creeping stealthily to where Reab was and pulling him to safety in a bush.
When he was safe in the bushes, I held him and whispered to him that I was here. I said hold on Reab and I would go and make sure he was safe. I was sobbing. I could not comprehend what was happening for my mind had gone numb and blank.
How could a man who I loved so much bleed so much? All I knew was Reab was not moving in my arms and he must be terribly hurt.
I pressed my fingers to the blood on his stomach. I knew no man could have survived such a wound and so much lo
Yağmur Kaya Jan 2019
I cannot reach you
In any thought of mine
Or in any universe
Or in any destiny of god
But my desperateness for you
always exists
In the wormholes
Or in the unknown galaxies
And I know it, I will love you
until cosmos reaches its limits
But guess what,
no one knows
when will it
or will it ever
As my love's existence and fever
But I accepted it, your impossibility
Now even a dream of you is actually enough for me
Because love is not about having
It's about feeling
And I can feel you even if you're not here
Or even I have never touched you or hugged you or kissed you
I don't need any memories to love you
You are enough for me
just standing somewhere
breathing, laughing somewhere
Somewhere where I've never been
But it doesn't matter, cause I've learned
How to always feel you
Within my being
Kim Feb 2013
I thought that for once my luck was reversed,
That this time maybe a lovable smile could be painted on my normally pursed lips
too late I realized it was a mistake, happiness wasn’t here to stay, it was a trick, a sick joke
visiting me, only wanting to touch the temple water or my sadness

To see that the ocean was sweeter than my sour tears.
to verify that the light couldn’t reach the dark spot where my mind resides.
To check that I might not be made for happiness or any derived of such complex emotion,
There’s just too many scars, too many cracks

Emotional wounds constantly open and not properly disinfected,
that need little more than words or looks to hurt me with the “remember”
malicious bugs that eat me from the inside, delighting themselves with tinny bites,
tasting the rotting parts of the place where my soul use to be alive.

My heart has already perish, burning all at once and consuming itself on the fire of the moment
Feeling too intensely drove me to an -not even entertaining- insanity, I decided not to feel,
not to trust, not to be here, only physically  I was forced to stay
but emotionally and mentally I was gone, far away,

At least that is what I like to think, believing that a long time before I used to feel,
But I know it might be another lie, inventions of my subconscious mind
trying to make my existence a more bearable experience, since looking back to the “remember”
I can firmly assure that I’ve never enjoyed anything, not once or ever

I was another lost soul, aimlessly wandering with no defined route, not a goal nowhere to go,
I only could follow my train of thought, that firmly abstracted from the original rules
Anything that tried to be implanted on me was wrong, I believed in no trusting anyone
not an author, not a religion, not codes nor social norms. I couldn’t trust no one.

I was -I am- alone, trying to follow my heart,  that hastily died,

Leaving me once again alone, without even having myself as a miserable company,
lacking of wit and humor I was, -I am- not a bright thought passed me by,
I was – I am- surrounded in darkness trying to find a light to turn in
Something to illuminate me and scare the monsters that so fondly bear with me.

I like to believe that everything changed, that I’m strong and I did overcome it
but I’m weak I must admit, and everything is the same,
the faces have disfigured into other strangers, the original names have been lost,
and the surroundings have acquired different shapes and forms,  

But everything is the same, I’m still an unresolved mess, I haven’t changed
no matter where I run and how much I delve and with desperateness I search
I’ll never find my absent souI, I have lost it a long time ago,
Aiswarya Jan 2017
You made me feel so desperate,
I was just the girl who wanted to live a simple life,
Fall in love,
Have kids,
Settle down.

You came- and showed me things I could have never envisioned,
You- made me dream,
You- lifted me up the chair I was stuck onto,
You- showed me the world that lived out of the little cubicle I was trapped in,
You- showed me the kind of love that made me feel light,
Thanks to the butterflies you caught in my tummy.

You- showed me love,
Then,
You- snatched it away

But,
But, you snatched your love away,
Mine is still enrooted within me,
My feelings,
My desperateness,
My dreams,
All of it is hovering- in the new cubicle you have locked me in.

I’m suffocating,
I can’t breathe without your love,
Despite it being completely bogus.

You have made me weak,
Weaker than ever,
Who gave you the power to make me weak?

Then I realised,
It was me,
It was me who gave you the power,
I- let you in,
I- accepted the ‘love’ you offered,
I- let you haul me out of that dark cubicle I felt less vulnerable in.

**I let you destroy me.
Dawn of Lighten Nov 2015
I rang the door bell as I step in the front of the door,
And gaze upon my work iPad to check for work order notations.

As I scroll upon the repair ticket,
there was bold letters,
And it read "ATTENTION Technician,
be patient with the customer,
She went through medical procedure!"

I hear a faint female voice from afar end of her house,
stating she was coming!

Inhaled dawning air with chill in my lung
While exhaled steam and vapor from my lips!

Never knew waiting per minute can feel like eternality,
And my surrounding became more intensified with movement of breeze!  

After waiting for 5 minutes,
finally the door opened,
And the lady was in her robes,
But had her hair done and make up on.
Customer then asked me where was the original installer,
And she specifically asked for his return.
She spoke with few pauses,
And slight fragmented sentences,
Then proceed to tells me she had a stroke,
And plead that I would be patient with her!

Already I wasn't her expected technician,
And I knew I had a large shoe to fill with her disdain,
While dealing with her medical situation!  

As I started my trouble shooting processes,
I asked for more information,
And explore the cause of system failure!

Knowing I needed to give her comfort during her dialogue,
I gave her my nods,
and listen to her intently.
While trying to get to the point,
But spoke less to avoid confusing her.
Until I can drop her guards,
And have a normal conversation during repair process,
So there wouldn't be awkward pauses!

Slowly but surely she began to tell me little bit about herself,
How she met husband from her friends,
And she was originally from Sri Lanka.
How lonely she gets in Kentucky not having real friends,
And in my mind I could only related to her circumstance,
But I over came it by finding my inner peace,
Which is finding a home in the present moments.

Knowing the struggle to understand what it meant to be a nationalist,
Or assimilating into American culture,
I began by asking her where is her comfort zone,
Or who makes her comfortable?

She tells me her husband,
and how much she loved him.

So then your husband is your home I told her,
And I let her know home isn't a four wall with a roof,
But it is a moment in present giving her comfort of a home.

at this moment,
my thought process became like a cat,
And like a cat my curiosity needed to be quenched.
I asked how she got the stroke.

There was a holding breathe from her,
And then her emotions erupted.
"I have a brain tumor" she tells me,
Accelerated by her cancer.
I don't know how long of a time I have left,
And her uncertainty of her life made her more afraid.
There was a desperateness in her tears.
I wanted to give her a hug,
And give some relief from her anguish.

In that moment of her desperation,
My training from senior housing kicked in.
Changed my subject back to her comfort zone!
"Please, tell me more about your husband I asked,
How did you two meet?"

She starts to get her composure back,
And wipes her tears.
As she spoke I see glistening of her eyes,
And she spoke with love.

After I finished with my repair
and heading out of the customer's house!
The lady thanked me
and then told me she wanted to tell her husband about home!

I gave her my smile,
Then lightly tapped on my chest with my palm,
then moved my hand onto my head.
Reminder to her,
home is in your heart and mind!
Just reflecting upon one of the repair I did couple month ago, and I hope  that customer is still doing well!
I hear the motor humming in the background

I hear the chirps from the morning birds, and even they don't sound enthusiastic about the time of day

I can hear your mom scratching bug bites on her arm. She scratches, digs, and scrapes, as if she is expecting to find something.

Bottles of sweet tea sit rattling next to me, clanking with each bump in the road, with each jump of my heart.

I hear brakes screeching to a slow stop, with a desperateness that reminds me of my darkest moments, my cries that no one witnessed, the tears that fell without acknowledgement.

The sun has yet to warm the world this morning, but it still casts its light on my arms, making my sunburn tingle but reminding me I'm alive

I can smell your great grandmother's perfume from when she hugged me so tight, reminding me of a family I never had.

I can smell the ocean, feel the grit of sand in the car. No matter how hard you try, we all take a bit of the beach home with us. It's salty waters one day blend with our salty tears.

But all I care to hear
Are your sweet shallow yawns and breathing. As long as you're breathing that's always all I need.

I think I could very well tackle anything if I knew all the time that you were alive, content, and happy.

I feel the need to give you an apology, for what I truly do not know. But whatever it is, I am genuinely sorry. Please, never let yourself go. Learn to love yourself as I love you.
the ride home on 7/5/2016,
Sharad Dec 2010
Quite strange and funny, the feeling,

Of not having the thing, you most desire,

The thing, you are obsessed with,

Feeling of desperateness and need,

Overtaking you,  

Quite funny the feeling,

When the few day passes by, the pain

Evaporates just like dust in the open air,

Making you wonder, for what you were after,

Therein lies the truest answer of your desire.
grace Jun 2015
There’s a particular provocativeness
In dark purple under the eyes
In mascara and eyeliner caked under fingernails
In wrinkles between the brows
In opaque smiles

There’s a mysterious longing
In hands through hair
In lips chapped and the color of wilting roses
In fluttering lavender eyelids
In unconsciousness in the air

Nothing about this is beautiful
Your up-until-6am staring in the dark
Your scrapes and scratches
Your calloused fingertips
Your boney spine

Nothing about this is beautiful
Your frantic, wild talks about how you don’t know yourself
Your desperateness to understand your mind

Sitting sobbing sadness in the shower
Bruised knees pressed into your eye sockets
Hugging your folded legs
Feeling the hot water drain with your emotions

There’s a particular provocativeness
In being so ****** up that you know you’re unloveable
You’re an interesting specimen,
But this kind of life is not beautiful
romantic
you do not want this.
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2015
did my promise,
my sincerity,
feel good in your hands?
did it sit well
in your broken heart?

did my desperation,
my lovesickness,
sparkle in your eyes?
did it settle your
twisting stomach?

did my nervousness,
my helplessness,
melt your boarded-up
and frozen, broken heart?
did it make you blush?

did my desperateness,
my constant attempts,
warm your icy soul?
did it taste good
on your sly smile?

even though you’ve
lost another one of
your leads, you still
refuse to play that
you’re in love with me.
SELORM DEKU Jan 2016
Something I think young men and women ought to know.

Every woman or man is replaceable in a relationship unless we decide to make them irreplaceable.
You see? The guy or lady you are in a relationship with had options but chose you.  
It becomes a problem when you interpret his her love as just a sign of desperateness.

Often,  people ( young people) begin to feel too important when their partner loves them so much and begin to stand on that same love to toy and maltreat the one who shows the love.
Be careful, the one who loves you so much may need you so much and may be deeply hurt when you disappoint.

But also remember that there are options and you were chosen.

Just because it is not right for your relationship partner to keep jumping from one person to the other doesn't mean that you make him/her feel and look a helpless prisoner of your love world.
Ena Alysopriono Nov 2014
I have a friend
Who is beautiful
And kind
But I am losing her
To the dark side
No not to anything life threatening
Yet
It is this thing called
Popularity
And she wants it
And I'm pretty sure she would do anything
Not to feel invisible
That is a long list
I am worried
Every time I see her
She is more and more distant
She is crazy
Like before
But in a way that is different
How you act with your new friends
Conflicts with some of my morals
You can't seem to think
About academics
Or family
Only your social circle
I am worried
Someone is going to take advantage of your desperateness
To be Seen
And you are going to get hurt
Honestly the only thing that keeps me
From hiding in bushes outside of the houses
You go to parties in
With a chainsaw
Ready to rush to your rescue
Is that you don't tell me when they are
And also I don't currently have a chainsaw in my possession
I am worried
That I am going to lose you
Gold May 2014
It's an illness, and what a wicked one. It lasts five stages. Through four stages it tortures you the best it can. It tortures you with nostalgia and melancholia. I will tell you about these four stages, until you finally reach the fifth and last stage, the stage that will feel like redemption to you. Brace yourself, this illness can **** before you reach the final stage.

Stage 1, denial / delusion
In this stage, you will deny what happened, and will live in a fantasy your poor mind created for you to keep you alive.
You know exactly what has happened, you know the truth. However, this hideous creature, this torturous illness won't let you "get over" the truth that easily. It will torture you with false hopes, wrecking your mind because each and every night, you will wonder if what has happened was real or just a bad nightmare of yours.

If you made it, be lucky for a second. Stage 2 is awaiting you.

Stage 2, wrath
In this stage, you will feel an ager, a rage you never felt before. You will have the urge to destroy and to burn, not only things, but also you, the memories, and just everything and everyone surrounding you.
The illness wants to destroy you, and it gives you ire so you can "prepare" yourself for what will come for you. Destruction in the finest, most painful ways, you can't even imagine.

You survived Stage 2, now let's take a look on how desperate you can become in Stage 3.

Stage 3, negotiating
In this stage, your desperateness to wipe the slate clean will show. The illness makes you parley with the wildest, most unreal people you may meet in your life, only to undo what has happened.
You would sell your sould to the devil.
You would give your life to the Grim Reaper.
You would… You might even want to make a deal with me.

I think we should stop about what you would, it might get to horrendous for you. So we reach Stage 4, the stage that has the highest verisimilitude to **** you.

Stage 4, depression
You will cry waterfalls of tears, so be careful that you don't drown in the sea of hot, salty water your ever so beautiful eyes created.
This stage of torture is where the illness got quite creative. I'm sure you heard a lot about depression, but in reality it is even worse than the worst you expected. It might feel unreal from time to time, but I tell you, it is real – savagely real.
It might **** you, so try your best to survive this stage. That's the only admonition I can give you.

You survived? Congratulations! Hereby we reach

Stage 5, acceptance
In this stage, the final stage, you finally reach the redemption you craved for so long. You will finally be able to leave behind what has downed you so much. You will be able to fly again, your wings are back.
However, be careful. This stage is the shortest of them all.

Many people before you have failed before reaching this salvific stage.
I hope you won't underestimate the illness. You might have reached redemption, but it only waits to strike again and to devour you.

Be careful, even for I will watch over you.
Sadie Aug 2013
Lost in this lake of blue
No way to contact you
Without a way back home
I'm stuck here thinking about you.
Long past the craze of desperateness
and strength of will
I've given up and closed my eyes
to the blinding light of the sun.
I see you behind my eyelids.
A trick of my mind but
one I'm willing to indulge in.
Wrote this on July 30th
Copyright @ Sadie Whitney
Anna Young Aug 2015
you are frenzy and anxiety,
regret and desperateness.
I ache for July's leisure and
freedom as you take my hand, dragging me into
pools of begrudging acceptance of my
inevitable fate.
august you are the day that is never supposed to
come,
the distant "someday" that I have only pretended to be
interested in meeting.
you are the eternal setting sun,
the closing month of summer that
paints the sky oranges and pinks and reds with the
blood of the dying season.
august you are the warrior that charges into
fall, the goodbye that comes too soon, the future that I
must face.
We may only be strangers, dear August, but I wish we never had
met.
school is starting soon, responsibility is coming.
Dan White Jan 2018
Slowly I walk towards the wall. Someday, somehow, some say, we will all face him. He is not me, not like the one I imagined but instead a reflection of a fragment that has disappeared ages ago. And I know one thing for sure: long before my first and last breath, everyone is here.

A last stand… Beckoning.

A blurry scene collapses like a rose’s thorn crushed by a hammer, and it’s heaven. Fresh air breezes throughout the field like a thousand winters summoned  in a hot air balloon; one pop, and it might burst.

Instead it dies.

Blackness fades into nothingness as light bends darkness when desperateness serves greatness. A tiny yet almost invisible terrifying spot of delight. All will come true and limits are met only when reaching the neverending centre again and again.

The concentric circle.

Never have I felt this much euphoria as time feels decay; the process of giving and taking, for eternity. And never have I dreamed so much desolate fueled nightmares until tonight. A night to remember for the ages as ages tend to burn with backwards conspiracy.

A feast for the new millennium.

Tragic meets company as destiny embraces chaos when a tall figure stands opposed to a small ocean vessel. Waving fiercely, with strong arms. Screaming against the absence of light. But not tonight, not anymore. Maybe never, yet always.

The destined traveller.

Always wandering but never here as the room grows from specs to pyramids; standing great and longing connate justice. Ever towering, never to look down, yet always pondering. In spite of desire, thirst is not quenched, however the stalactite still grows slowly.

The remains.

Nothing is sacred and with the fidelity of strangeness interwoven its frontier is bubbling with the force of insecurity; the final pillar of a marble treehouse. Leaning. Never to leave, never to stay, but always here.

Forever.
A allegorical stream of consciousness concerning different aspects of (my) life.
quintin sinclair Aug 2018
her beauty
controlled the sun itself
for with every smile that shaped from her mouth
came a new ray of light from the atmosphere
her lips
released pure gold
for with every word which was spoken
your ears would squeal with delight
her eyes
gifted your soul
for with every look she gave you
your heart would swell larger than the universe
her everything
was perfect
yet i pushed it away
within my desperateness
goodbye to her

— The End —