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Number 8 Mar 2011
My father was famous for
noticing endings
admitting defeats
accepting declines
moving along
being a good, end-of-game sport.

Sometimes
he’d spark a surprise
come back—
an evening of the score.
The folks are as good
as the people
” he’d declare.

But as life
invariably turns out,
the folks are
   rarely
            as good
                         as the people
     the pitcher as the batter
     the husband as the wife
     the striker as the goalie
     the salesman as the prospect
     the child as the parent
     the ying as the yang.
In competitions someone
always conquers, even if just a bit;
the other
always loses, even if just surface wounds—
death always comes
natural or quick.

Then you
know:
It’s all over
        but the crying.


Dad,
I’ve been crying,
but when will I know
it’s over?
And, since some “folks” aren’t
so good after all, please tell:
        How victorious is victory?
        Who is defeated in defeat?
        What is the final score?
        Who won again?

The true score for when it’s over is
perhaps how
we make sense of the endings,
                                                    beginnings,
                                                                ­          and
                                 rebeginnings
                of life
shared and                                                              ­                             solitary.

So where is that game clock
that tally board, that ledger to
release my game
announce my endings
settle my scores

so I can do my crying
and
prepare
for next season?

        18.i.11
blythe Jun 2015
Everybody wants a happy ending
But not all end up being happy
Some live while their heart is breaking
Others end up in misery.
Fairytales only exist in one's imagination
Full of fantasies of happiness
Providing a temporary escape
But still live in a wretched reality.

Like losing one's true love,
Like missing one's last chance,
Nothing left to hope for,
Every dream burnt down to ashes.
That is how cruel this world is -
Will let you hope for something
But in the end,
Will leave you hanging.
A sad poem to express out my sadness from the book which I have recently read.
maybella snow Jul 2013
happily ever afters
are so stereotyped          

do two broken lovers        
fit into the category?              

x <3 x
Belle Labette Oct 2014
I am young and small and hiding
Following sunbeams with my book
Chasing stories of knights and dragons
While my father spits fire in my dreams

I am blooming and tall and climbing
Clutching books on a tree limb
Running with wolves in dappled light
Well out from the reach of grasping hands

I am awkward and shy and growing
Curled under the bed with a story
Losing myself in heartbreak and happy endings
Tucked away from raised voices

I am shrinking and silent and trembling
Standing next to your car
A suitcase of books and clothes in hand
A new chapter thrumming in my veins

We are flawed and tenacious and alive
Living life with novels in our skin
Filled with dragons and wolves
With heartbreak and happy endings
bcg poetry Mar 2015
He likes reading Russian poetry and she likes listening to him whisper it through the phone.

She likes watching sitcoms, dramas, and really anything available on Netflix steaming and he likes teasing her about it on the way home.

They like to distract themselves and pretend everything's alright. They like to text and talk every week night.


They fit well, like out of a storybook page, or a rhyme in an old song that you would hear on your dad’s iPod on shuffle. Except there was one thing they overlooked all those nights talking about everything and nothing over and over till the sun would rise.

She never could watch the last episode of the shows she binged, but he always read the last page of the books he read. She was afraid of endings and goodbyes.

So when the clock struck twelve and it was time to go home, only one was doomed to a life of bathroom floors, empty stomachs, and dull, dead eyes.

-bcg (i was afraid of endings and when you asked me i told you i would be fine
Micheal Wolf Feb 2014
The ciggiy hung from her lip
No question she was up for it
But up for what was what he feared
As half crowns hung from her ears
Her hand stretched out as payment due
"30 quid" she said to you
Get undressed behind the screen
"Your first time or have you been?"
On the bed he lay face down
Her hands moved up and down his back
Suprisingly she wasn't bad
Arms outstretched fingers pulled
This was really really good
Roll over love I'll do your front
Now he starts to feel a chump
There she stood and looked at him
He looked back with a silly grin
She oiled his chest and then his legs
Avoided going between his thighs
She could have told the time of day
His sundial had come out to play
Now all done she passed a towel
And asked him "was that alight"
Then before he could reply
She said next door if you want more
No happy endings here my love
Prabhu Iyer Sep 2012
Everything spreads in an expanse.
Forms like candles feathered
flickering float in glassine tombs,
Sounds like those dip and sink at sea.
Silken carpet of clouds pulled,
numb stones and numb thorns,
pain from under my naked norms.
Chain breaks and rattle songs,
oh the horror of raveling knots, that
endings have humble beginnings.
Everything's same, but nights melt  
and fans slow, flooding the days in
broken moons and shaken stars.
Solitary lamp in the damp room,
Everything spreads like ocean waves
from me in an expanse like this.
David Hall Aug 2014
Everything in life ends badly, otherwise it would never end.
Leonard Green Feb 2017
Prolog:
Foreplay opens with an aphrodisiac dubbed the mind
caressing private chambers with passion, over time
words stimulating nerve-endings for the ideal tease
like the skin dripping of honey from the nectar of bees
exploiting the fragrances of scented oils and balms
or maybe vib’ing lyrics inducing a seductive calm
compelling forces bombard the intellectual’s sanity
as the proximity of the blackhole distorts humanity

Love’s Play:
Costars entwine heated bodies for love’s embrace
as moments become endless as vectors of subspace
sporadic movements take the form of blissful spasms
while the players combine to mold a single plasm
ringing chimes fulfill the awareness with sensations
too diverse to classify for logical deliberations
yet finally, the mountaintop of cliffs can be reached
where there is no retreat and no return from its breach

Epilog:
Aftermath closes basking from the physical exertion
as two kindred spirits epitomize timeless insertion
gazing deeply into the abyss of the partner’s soul
only to find comfort and compassion ruling the role
can this be the earthly heaven that one truly beholds
written in the historic words as the heavens foretold
feelings ignite once again burning deeply within
opening yet another intriguing act, one must attend.
Dedicated to the lovers on Valentine's Day
Split the vein of heart
let all your beautiful colors spill
bleed your love
all over me...
blank canvas of clouds
bare your soul to me
paint my black and blue
pure and new

I will bloom for you
as only the soul touched
by light and beauty can


orange and pink and auburn
like flowers and autumn leaves and sunrise
every sunset
I will spend my moments
with you
in your garden
smelling your roses
daydreaming
in the morning of your eyes
in the night of your dreams
flying like stars
dancing like the wind
sturdy as a mountain

Ill wait for you
underneath a blanket of darkness
pale as the whitewashed moon
flask half empty
waiting to be filled
to drink you in
get drunk on you
be the one
your lips make love to
the lungs your breath settles into
the flesh you crawl beneath
to slumber in peace
the heart you escape into
whenever you are on the run from the world
your place of solitude and quiet
your shelter

*Chose me
and I promise to be
an ending
to all your unhappy endings
your happily ever after
your here and now
and thereafter in the hereafter
forever and always
This poem was inspired by a fellow poet on my IG. Her poems make a dead heart beat again. If you would like to follow her her is her ig @angeadan.
2aftermidnight Apr 2014
Dreams of young girls and boys, grew up between the happy endings of a tragic story, that is written by a hand who let mouses speak, and ducks suffer from ADD, an unknown was created by a man who died between the same walls i am in, staring at those walls entering the realm of his thoughts trying to solve the mystery of darkest most depressing riddles, i talked to his lost but not dead voice, leaving me with pictures moving fast, creating a message holds the answer to the voice’s master door, knees of mine touched the ground, a world of his own creation, a world he escape to,
when his soul loses it’s light, forcing that world to enter the real world, one of many “once upon a time” buried myths that hold no happy endings, merging night dreams with the real world is the worst forbidden act, walt disney you were so naive to coast your soul it’s home.
What if love became so overwhelming, such an inextinguishable force that its true purpose betrayed itself completely?
To the point that even the utterance of those three powerful words, that at a different junction had held such promise, now left a distinct taste of uncertainty on the lips and a ringing of insanity in the ear drum. What else does one say when the most pure form of expression and commitment echo with distain and regret?
Even as I slide into introspection, diving deep to the point of no return, there seems to be no logical path, no penance for the monster I have created. Through my own autonomous actions and neglect I have reached this dark place. Perhaps I indulged beyond a point where thoughts and actions have boundaries. A broken compass , spinning without meaning. All indicators in tact, every cog and point in place, magnetism lost to exaggerated memories, fears and regrets.
Self delusion is a drink that is best served with company. With companionship the mind tends to believe its own meddling. Delusions are mistaken for truth and biased opinions blur with reality.  
All roads lead to pain. Every so often a spark jumps to the surface of my consciousness.  A pin ***** exclaiming hope.  It’s a glitch of my own creation. The belief in happy endings and love prevailing. That love is more powerful than any disappointment, mistake or breech in trust. My reality had been resurfaced and augmented by the media. Love stories are just that. Stories.  A wave of manufactured hope, washing over the beach of the human psyche. Every grain of sand is washed back to the sea just as it has arrived.
Happiness, a flame burning on a tiny wick. Enjoy the heat while it lasts for it is going to be a cold winter. And the power is out.
We’re taking a journey through the times.
First back to Shakespeare and his clever rhymes.
He tells the story of Romeo and Juliet,
And if you were Montague, I’d change my name from Capulet.
The story of star crossed lovers,
Who in the end, died for each other.

Now we take a small trip through the rain forest,
Take a moment and play Tarzan.
Take another moment and let me be your Jane.
And when the storm threatens,
We won’t wait for the puddles,
We’ll go out dancing in the rain.

Here we go, under the sea.
Let’s take this trip, just you and me.
We zoom through the big ocean blue,
Like Ariel and Prince Eric, without a clue.
The green seaweed talks through our ears,
Living an underwater life where you can’t see tears.

As we sit alone together in the dark of light.
Only the candle between us, glowing in the night.
I hear the clock strike the new day,
Then out I go, wishing all the while that I could stay.
I’m Cinderella, running through the dark, climbing upon my ride,
Looking down and surprised to see, my glass slippers are still on my feet inside.

The endings may be different now,
No weddings, no ball gowns, no death.
They make you say “wow”
Then you can only hold your breath.
I had to write this for a class. I like it a lot though.
Malak S Aug 2017
I've written far too many endings to have any decent beginnings.
The flowers I've planted died,
The petals falling onto the soil, slowly decaying.
Why is it that life resembles death,
Whenever my fingers skim the edges?
There's this need to create and contain,
To possess and obsess,
To protect,
And yet still,
The hurt remains, gaping
Eating me alive.
Biting and nibbling at those that I love.
Life, never expects you to live with a smile plastered onto your face.
It never guarantees you an easy access.
There are no manuals on, 'how to live a good life',
Just a sign posted at the start line saying,
Try.
You try to live a good life,
Through the heartaches,
Through the happiness.
You try and try, no matter how many times you fall onto your knees, resulting in bruises or broken bones,
You stand up and make way for the experiences to shift and transform you into who you're meant to be.
No matter how many endings I've written,
The beginnings seem far worse,
Because maybe,
Just maybe,
It's the first step into leading and living a good life,
And I so desperately,
Do NOT want to butcher that,
Leaving reminants of blood smothered on the floor I call,
My
Life
"La noche buena se viene,
La noche buena se va,
Y nosotros nos iremos
Y no volveremos mas."
-- Old Villancico.

Sweet evenings come and go, love,
They came and went of yore:
This evening of our life, love,
Shall go and come no more.

When we have passed away, love,
All things will keep their name;
But yet no life on earth, love,
With ours will be the same.

The daisies will be there, love,
The stars in heaven will shine:
I shall not feel thy wish, love,
Nor thou my hand in thine.

A better time will come, love,
And better souls be born:
I would not be the best, love,
To leave thee now forlorn.
Ceryn Jan 2014
Hang on, young lady, and keep your head up high
Times do get rough, but someday you'll know why,
When your dreams seem impossible, trust your own fate
It always takes time if you aim to end up great.

Hang on, young lady, and keep that pretty smile
Forget your troubles and your cares even just for a while,
They may not know how hard you try to keep yourself alive
But don't forget that you're still worth it, for as long as you strive.

Hang on, young lady, and don't you ever quit on life
Love for happiness, speak the truth and stay away from strife,
Learn to dance under the rain when no one keeps you warm
Feel the chill, forget the gripe; to enjoy the harm does no harm.

Hang on, young lady, 'cause your poem doesn't just end here
Endings are sad, but know that it's time to finally end your fear,
When one thing ends, another then begins, that's what we all know
But endings are good, just be brave enough to start another awesome show.
allie Aug 2014
You know it really shocks me
But somehow doesn't
How oblivious you are
After all the heartbreak
You claim to have suffered
You wear your heart on your sleeve
Expecting nothing to happen
You babble about happy endings
But you don't realise that
Happy endings are stories that haven't finished yet
Cordelius Jan 2014
nobody will ever under stand
the love I have for you
it's more than rock band
it's more than a hue

it's about your personality
more than what the eye can see
they way you act around me
more cute than a little baby

your glowing persona will always be
refreshing like the breeze under a shaded tree
you are my map in the dee(p)
with out you I'm just lost at sea

i know you feel the same way
we talk about it night and day
we'll always be together, I pray
our love like an everlasting bouquet

our love like a beautiful ballet
precious to me like The Lord's day
this may sound a little cliche
but you're more beautiful than the Milky Way

your long wavy hair
the beautiful stare
I get when our noses touch
there's nothing I would rather feel than your clutch

I am a fragile flower and you are my sun
you are the reason that I grow
I need you to survive
with out you I am nothing but a ****

I could go on forever
but even that doesn't seem like enough time to complete my thoughts
I love you like my best friend, my girl friend
let's make out.

s.r.
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
I've sat here for 21 years
Watching all this go by
People say things cliché
With pretension in their eye
I'm tired of hearing, everyday, what life is all about
Reality is getting boring, let's tune in and drop out

Have you heard the one
About the killer and the priest?
One blesses people with less and less
And one is just a thief
In "somewhere else" my mind is broken down
Reality is getting boring yet still its name resounds

There's stories everywhere you go
And all of them the same
Reductive plots and happy endings
Just under another name
I'm quiet as I sit and listen to what they all say
Reality is getting boring, maybe I'll revisit it some other day
Colleen McNulty Aug 2010
In the last days of summer, I have seen,
What was in that golden haze,
Was but a dream.

In those fleeting moments, I have heard,
The sound of the mourning dove,
The truth in its call.

These final moments, these endings, are they truly?
What is an ending, but the time before a beginning?
Copyright Colleen McNulty 2010
President Snow Oct 2016
There are no Happy Endings
Endings are the saddest part
So give just give me a happy middle
And a very happy start.
Credits to the owner besss
Once upon a time,
Not so long ago...

There anxiously lived
A lovely lady,
Who was now in the know!

You see..., her inspiration
Was taken away from her,
Forcing her lively spirit
To slowly die.

Her heart had broke,
Beyond repair,
When she finally uncovered
That love
Was nothing but a cruel lie.

Her kind, gentle soul
Was tortured,
And forced into virtual recluse,

For it had withstood
Unbearable amounts
Of mentally painful,
Emotional abuse.

She learnt
That the more one loves,
The more one feels the pain,

A very sad ending to her fairytale;
One that happens to many
Innocent, loving souls,
Leaving them all,
Never to be the same!

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
The more one loves,
The more one feels the pain.
A sad ending,
Happens to many loving souls,
Leaving them never to be the same!
shelby warren May 2013
As a child
Parents tell you stories
All of happy endings

Manipulating our minds
To think our Lives
Could turn out like that

As we get older
We may change
But our minds stay the same

Still thinking we could have
That happy ending
Only a few really do

The rest give up
And forget about love
say forget a happy ending

They start on their
Sad lonely days
Of their endings
Written in 2008
Your soft words sink me in ten directions
my soul comes pouring out of a broken hull
this is not a fairytale
unicorns and rainbows
happy endings
no
yours is a verse for forgiveness
piercing
unwelcome
cold as nuclear winter
bright as nuclear day
a quiet explosion in technicolor tragedy
my ears shatter
nerve endings free-fall
vividly ablaze
cherished moments fuse as one,
ten trillion endings per second
i flinch under the gravity of the situation,
a black hole lodges in my chest
never to leave again
sparkle and fade
no light escapes
sparkle and fade
this twisted love
this stardust field
abandoned
unwanted
betrayed.
No blade is sharper than your lips.
not a prognosis May 2021
sometimes
when i cry
i taste the salt
from your tears
instead of mine
ryn Jul 2014
A thousand things that run amok in my mind
Issues of present time that seem unkind
But if closely examined, this whirlwind of thoughts
Glimpses of rainbows, unicorns and gold-filled pots

Embedded within this maelstrom of uncertainty
Promise of niceties, of peace and serenity
Picturesque views of limitless artistry
Bring forth such joy and love and tranquility

Like a book of thoughts offering surrealistic images
A barrage of scenarios as I flip through the pages
Images that spoke of untold alternate endings
That is borne out of the heart's delicate beginnings

Engulfed in a blissful torrent of emotions
Caught submissive, in the riptide of affection
Frame by frame I could play, pause and repeat
Document joy and sadness, victory and defeat

Stories told that could happen in another plane
Series of eventual outcomes that I wish to gain
Wondering the things each other is doing
What is seen and what is heard, in this world you're living

Possibility of walking beside hand in hand
Dancing close, eyes in lock in a strange foreign land
Drive up into town to watch a romantic show
Sharing a milkshake or playing in the snow

Standing at your doorstep, an unannounced surprise
Bearing sunflowers and chocolates, for my beautiful prize
Running through a field, in love with frenzied craze
Lying on a mat, eyes locked in a deep, loving gaze

Two kissing silhouettes with a sunset backdrop
A scene, frozen in time that I don't want to stop
Marooned on an island, all deserted and bare
We bask in the sun and at the stars we stare

Sitting across of each other so close
In a cafe, whispering love and jousting toes
Being in love and intimate in a hot steamy shower
Sharing a Parisian landscape atop a well renowned tower

Snuggling close, sighing in the arms of my lover
Kissing through the night letting the heart take over
Cupping your cheeks, tasting the lips so sweet
Wake up sweet darling, good morning I would greet

Ferry you to work, plant a kiss that'll melt your knees
Be at the bay, together we look out into the seas
Talk on the phone and missing you right after
Texting endlessly, professing eternal love for each other

Such thoughts are brought by dreams and wishful thinking
Ideals that me give hope even when my boat is sinking
But I'll never ever stop wishing it'll all come true
Because my dreams were conjured for it was meant that I find you
Life  is merely
a series
of before and afters
      begininngs and endings,
    
Sometimes we
are a fortune's king,
    weilding the key
to open
or close doors.

Other times,
our control is lost
and a line is drawn
    by the sword of a skillful hand
marking
         a change of heart
or opportunity.

Inevitably, death bows
to the governing power of Chronus
    holding time in his hands
  
But in between
the before and afters,
and the beginnings and endings
are moments.

   defining
turning
    quiet
stolen
of no return


Moments

The rhythmic newborn baby's cry,
    goodbyes that cast a shadow,
songs filled with Heaven's joy?
kisses that taste of forever,
      breezes that dance with the angels
   or quarrels armed with poison.
  
Moments

Some left with arms reaching
      for they were missed.
 a hesitant heart refusing love
words left unspoken
     time not taken
forgiveness held captive

Looking back
at memories held,
    moments have brought
light and darkness
but the missed moments
    have left the deepest scars
marking opportunity's lost.

So, I try to remember
  that in between
the before and afters,
   and the beginings and endings,
are moments,
    and I shall
adorn them in jewels
and embrace them in peace
lest them not be missed
for soon,
   they too shall pass.
In some strange way, I was inspired to write this by All the Worlds a Stage - Shakespeare. Its a work in progress... might need better organization. Helpful feedback welcomed. Please!
Kasey Oct 2012
We’re all born with our eyes closed to what we learn to be the world.
Our sounds begin with crying, our fingers bunched and curled.
We’re taught our eyes should open and our hands should follow suit.
Our lips we’re told to quiet, our lungs we’re taught to mute.
We’re taught rules are to be followed, enforced calmly with intent.
Our freedoms and our thoughts are forced and every feeling bent.
We grow into what we are made of and what we’re meant to be
These people born with their eyes closed now teaching us to see.
A potluck set of people and we’re told to pick just one
Forever and for always our individuality is undone
Over time it comes back around and soon we have to teach
Our own little entrées that bunched up hands can’t reach
Closed eyes are not able to watch and loud mouths don’t ever listen
We bend and break and force our little dishes until they glisten.
We age and rot and give up on what our hearts once dreamed
And dying we may realize that it’s not what it had seemed.
Saint Peter looks inside his book and asks us how we are
And crying with our eyes closed we ask our lucky stars
Why never in our lives we questioned what we were
Here we are at God’s front door and we finally concur
Hands bunched up and fingers curled, eyes shut and kept closed tightly
The world we lived on and left for here was horrid and unsightly.
Yet every morning we woke up and our eyes opened to the sun
We've been quietly observing a world that’s vastly overdone.
Khalif May 2017
if i wrote a love letter to humanity
i would write it in all lowercase
i. would put periods in places where
there shouldn’t be because sometimes
endings are more abrupt than we expect
and sometimes endings
aren’t really endings at all
if i wrote a love letter to humanity
i would look to other poets
to all the other love letters
and i would steal one line
try to make it my own
and fail
if i wrote a love letter to humanity
there would. probably be a point to it
i wouldn’t explain it though
not because i want to make you think
but because i can’t make you
if i wrote a love letter to humanity
i would try to think about everyone i’ve loved
i wouldn’t trust. myself to remember them all
so no one would be mentioned
you’d just know
but maybe you wouldn’t
and that would be just as beautiful
if i wrote a love letter to humanity.
i would remember that love is complicated
and even if we steal definitions
we don’t steal the feeling
we already have enough of them to drink our fill
we only need remember
there are times when our lips grow parched
or maybe you’re already drowning
but this is a love letter
not about drowning
or living in lowercase
or abrupt endings
i wouldn’t trust
but
look for it
CA Guilfoyle Dec 2012
Eyes burn
gritty paper, sand
tears pool
a room puddles
buckets, oceans pour over
dousing flickering flames
drowning
some letting go
dying
others left
wading
Danielle Joanna Dec 2014
Sometimes,
I think about
how summer could be.
How the ocean could touch our toes,
how the powder soft sand feels on our feet
how the blowing air blows through our hair
I think about how summer could be if it wasn't for endings.

Sometimes,
I think about
how autumn could be.
How the brown colored leaves fall from the tree
and the hard orange colored pumpkin appears for thee
Halloween they say
orange colored day
sad to say
he's not here to stay
Sometimes,
I think about
how autumn could be if it wasn't for endings.

Sometimes,
I daydream about
how spring could be
How roses open their petals
and how the cherry blossom tree blooms
how colorful my day could be
I think about
how spring could be if it wasn't for endings.

Tonight
I'm thinking about
how winter could be
How the cotton soft blanket feels on our skin
how we could share coffee latte together under the mistletoe
how hot the fire place feels inches away
I think about how winter could be if it wasn't for endings.

but all seasons last, they come and go
and we will realize we need to grow
as the seasons go by
we'll learn to say bye
and learn that there is a reason why.
Meagan Berry May 2013
I think the hardest thing to remember is that everything ends.

When times are great and I'm lying in your arms its so easy to remember
That you're going to leave.
I count down the minutes until you'll have to get out of my bed, pull on your shorts, pack up your bag,
And go.
Its easy to look at it in terms of time
And know exactly how many seconds I have
Until you leave.

But when the insides of my stomach are clenching and aching,
When there's nothing in the world that can make this pain stop,
It's hard to remember that this too will end.
This time there aren't a set number of minutes to count down,
But it will pass.

My friends tell me, "He wasn't good enough for you"
My roommate says, "There's only so many times he can make you cry before I write him off."
My mom says "You've been down lately honey.  Is everything okay?"
I start to perk up and think, You're right. I'm glad he's leaving.
Only a few more minutes.

I follow up with telling them that my psychic says I haven't met the love of my life yet.
I don't yet know the man I'll marry,
Which makes me feel better.
And then she says, "Have you seen her recently? How do you know?"
And I'm back to tallying the minutes left in my misery.

Its hard to remember that this pain will subside
That it will stop hurting so badly.
That I will stop thinking about you every moment of every day.

But then take me back to the flip side where things were perfect.
When we spent our first night together-
The build up,
The flirting,
The giggling-
To when we were finally in your bed, locked in each others arms
And you said to me, "This isn't going to be a one time thing."
Even then, I knew our time was limited.

I know eventually I will leave your bed permanently in the morning
To go back to my place.
And I know eventually my life will continue on without you in it.
Without our fingertips locked around each others.
But its hard to remember that
Its hard to want that.

And now you're leaving
And I so badly want to say the things
That you're not supposed to say to the guy you're *******.
Will you ever talk to me again?
Can I still text you 24 hours a day?
Can I have your address?
Can I call you?
Do you want to call me?
Can we talk about doing more?
Can we talk about visiting?

I don't want to get a drink or coffee when I happen to be in town.
I want to visit for you.

But I'm afraid those are going to end things even quicker.
I know its going to end.  That's not the question.
I just want to hold out for as long as possible
With my fingers caught in your hair,
With your arm grasping my waist,
With our texts stretching late into the nights when we can't be together.

Maybe someday we'll meet in some city
And get that drink or coffee I want more than
And rekindle this flame (5 years?).
Maybe I'll text you one too many times
And you'll stop responding (6 months?).
Or maybe we'll meet other people
And forget about our short moment of bliss (1 year?).

Until then I will continue to tally how many minutes have passed
And I have left to suffer
Until something, someone, fills this aching hole
Until there is a happier ending.
Isabel Jun 2014
It isn't written on billboards but I miss you.

**And I always will,
Because these endings,
have no end.
Josh C DeWees Oct 2013
They told me be who you are
They told me you'll save the day
A photogenic superhero of the day
They told me I'd have a happy ending
They lied
I haven't gotten happiness
I've destroyed not saved
Photogenic desolation day in and out
They told me to be me
They didn't tell me I was wrong

I guess I'm the villain
They say only the heroes get happy endings
So I'm a villain than
The question used to be why can't i be good
Now, now its who can I drag down with me
Who wants to be a villain

As long as I'm a villain I'll be happily dragging the world down
I guess I'm the villain now
No  I  am  the  **villain
Alan McClure Dec 2012
(i)

It's no use
the legs aren't up to it anymore
and he's barely an eighth of the way up the mountain
when some kindly climbers
opt to help him down.
Confused and broken of spirit
he is returned to the home
and time stops passing once more.

(ii)

The fog whose descent
has sent him north
has one last trick to play:
though he reaches the top,
through bog and heather
and bone-weary exhaustion,

it is the wrong mountain.
He has misremembered the name
and all he finds at the hard-won cairn
is a gentle ***** down the other side
and a group of picnickers
who eye him with sympathy.

(iii)

A circle which was opened
when he was fourteen;
when a frozen night in a frozen tent
was swept aside
by a breathless climb
to a dazzling white peak -
Liathach -
and a view over crashing cliffs
into the wild blue
bore the thought,
"This, when the time comes,
is where I will end it!" -
is closed.
And the body joins
the half-flown soul
in the mist-swallowed distance
and beyond.

— The End —