"haircolor" poems
Heaven and hell
Aren't as far
As you are from me.
That's how I feel about us
When I haven't met you yet
And you're a mystery to a troubled mind.
A black hole is more unknown
Than you are to me
Because I haven't even seen your face.
Maybe if these dreams would be consistent
I'd think God was giving me a hint
But not even your haircolor is the same.
I want to believe that you are alive somewhere
Walking this earth, thinking of me
But my imagination ***** when it comes to you.
There's fear, hesitation, and anxious expectation
For the day I see you
I'm already suffering from your love's sickness.
If you are anything like what I want
I won't want that--
Only what God wants for me could be anything near perfect.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
She sticks like water. She loves like a butterfly.
She slips through my fingers like sand.
She is good for me; just like the cigarettes I'm chain-smoking.
She changes her haircolor like she changes her mind.
I've never loved anyone like I love her.
So why is it so easy for me to let her walk away?
So... so easy... to let my tambourine fall away from my fingers,
After watching her burn my sound-house down?
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
You're not a friend of someone when you talk one time to him
You're also not a friend when you can laugh one time with him
You're friends when you can talk about
Paintings,
Food,
Haircolor,
The backspace button on your keybord,
Peanutbutter.
You're friends when you accept who he is
Gay
Straight
Muslim
Soccer player
Tennis player
Pineapple on pizza
(Disgusting)
You're friends when you can be yourself
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 5:08 AM UTC