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"lemonhead" poems
Love. A dangerous, cantankerous thing. No anchor is made for this Pen and paper blamed for it, if I had a name for it If I had a name for it, then I would be a slave for it She said that I scoff too often That I'm often too lost in the moment The moment we first met, she smelled like a poem. Like loose leaves in the fall. She had me falling like a paper plane with clipped wings Winging it onstage because I reached the spotlight and forgot all my lines She said it was fine. She never liked my acting anyway She said if she wanted to date a phony, she would have gone for Oscar or Tony If she wanted a Golden Globe she wouldn't have settled for a Lemonhead She said I'm too sweet. That my lips look like strawberry fields and my kisses taste like forever. Yeah, she's a Beatles fan. I was more of a fan of needles. On a syringe binge, she was my heroine in a red dress I wanted her address to correspond with where my head rested I wanted to take the rings from my eyes and wrap them around her finger so she would know she was the reason I couldn’t sleep at night She said I was her knight in shining armor. Like a page from a fairy tale Love. If I had a name for it, maybe I could’ve changed for it Played the game a different way and kept her away from it Her laughter was supposed to be my happily ever after. But it was stifled by heaven's rifleman Like lightning striking twice and thunder had the audacity to applaud She said I'm going home. I'm going back to God. She said that this was the plan all along and if I'm ever longing for her face then I need to face the facts, retrace our steps and reenact for a friend. This isn't the end. This is just a long-lost friend coming back to visit, isn’t it? Cold hands gripping getting wet. Blurred vision, can I see her yet? Timid lemonhead pressed against her wilting smile She asked what were the first lines I remember writing about her… Roses are red Violets are blue Every road has led me to you She said that I scoff too often That I'm often too lost in the moment to know when she's gone The moment she left. She smelled like a poem. Like loose leaves in the fall I'm falling from cloud nine, the wind constantly reminding me that she was never mine And if she was His the whole time, she should have told me. Because now… Now I have no one to hold me when I drop No one to scold me when I scoff No one to write a poem about when I'm lost If I had a name for it, my mother would tell me to pray for it. Ain’t that a shame that I am to blame for it? What’s in a name but a home and a place to grow? Every passing season gives me a reason too... Spring showers, summer sun, and winter cold Hold my name in contempt and place the blame ...she smelled like a poem. Like lost leaves when she fell for me. Love.
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Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
andy-fichus
Artistic Intent
Love. A dangerous, cantankerous thing. No anchor is made for this Pen and paper blamed for it, if I had a name for it If I had a name for it, then I would be a slave for it She said that I scoff too often That I'm often too lost in the moment The moment we first met, she smelled like a poem. Like loose leaves in the fall. She had me falling like a paper plane with clipped wings Winging it onstage because I reached the spotlight and forgot all my lines She said it was fine. She never liked my acting anyway She said if she wanted to date a phony, she would have gone for Oscar or Tony If she wanted a Golden Globe she wouldn't have settled for a Lemonhead She said I'm too sweet. That my lips look like strawberry fields and my kisses taste like forever. Yeah, she's a Beatles fan. I was more of a fan of needles. On a syringe binge, she was my heroine in a red dress I wanted her address to correspond with where my head rested I wanted to take the rings from my eyes and wrap them around her finger so she would know she was the reason I couldn’t sleep at night She said I was her knight in shining armor. Like a page from a fairy tale Love. If I had a name for it, maybe I could’ve changed for it Played the game a different way and kept her away from it Her laughter was supposed to be my happily ever after. But it was stifled by heaven's rifleman Like lightning striking twice and thunder had the audacity to applaud She said I'm going home. I'm going back to God. She said that this was the plan all along and if I'm ever longing for her face then I need to face the facts, retrace our steps and reenact for a friend. This isn't the end. This is just a long-lost friend coming back to visit, isn’t it? Cold hands gripping getting wet. Blurred vision, can I see her yet? Timid lemonhead pressed against her wilting smile She asked what were the first lines I remember writing about her… Roses are red Violets are blue Every road has led me to you She said that I scoff too often That I'm often too lost in the moment to know when she's gone The moment she left. She smelled like a poem. Like loose leaves in the fall I'm falling from cloud nine, the wind constantly reminding me that she was never mine And if she was His the whole time, she should have told me. Because now… Now I have no one to hold me when I drop No one to scold me when I scoff No one to write a poem about when I'm lost If I had a name for it, my mother would tell me to pray for it. Ain’t that a shame that I am to blame for it? What’s in a name but a home and a place to grow? Every passing season gives me a reason too... Spring showers, summer sun, and winter cold Hold my name in contempt and place the blame ...she smelled like a poem. Like lost leaves when she fell for me. Love.
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48
bubblegum girls do not love lemonhead boys, yet puckering lips sound oh so sweet, and sugar does not mix with sour in my candy land world but how I wish your tongue to graze mine against cavity teeth and silver finishing, and all you want is to chew me up and spit me out, the way all lemonhead boys do, but bubblegum girls crave those stupid, sour boys and wonder why they spit them out, too.
0
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC
nathaliepaczes
candy
bubblegum girls do not love lemonhead boys, yet puckering lips sound oh so sweet, and sugar does not mix with sour in my candy land world but how I wish your tongue to graze mine against cavity teeth and silver finishing, and all you want is to chew me up and spit me out, the way all lemonhead boys do, but bubblegum girls crave those stupid, sour boys and wonder why they spit them out, too.
Continue reading...
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