"scarlett" poems
MY COMPUTER IS INFECTED WITH A VIRUS
FROM SURFING TEEN AGE **** SITES LATE AT NITE
SOME OF WHAT I'V SEEN, IT LOOKS QUITE NORMAL
WHILE OTHER THINGS THEY JUST DON'T SEEM QUITE RIGHT
I'D JUST STARTED CHRISTMAS SHOPPING
WHEN I LEARNED THAT I'D BEEN HACKED
THERE APPEARED BEFORE ME QUITE THE PHOTO
OF A REINDEER WITH **** ELF FOLK ON HER BACK
AS I LOOKED MORE AT THE PHOTO
AND I LOOKED DEEP IN THE TREES
I SAW JUST A HINT OF SCARLETT
THAT LOOKED JUST LIKE MRS. SANTA ON HER KNEES
AS I LOOKED MORE AT THE PICTURE
SHE HAD A LOOK, BUT NOT OF PAIN
AND I SAW WHAT SHE WAS *******
WAS NOT AN ALLANS CANDY CANE!
AS I TRIED TO LEAVE THE WEBSITE
A NEW PHOTO CAME MY WAY
AND I STARED HARD IN AMAZEMENT
THINKING, CORR I NEVER KNEW THAT ELVES COULD BEND THAT WAY
ONE WAS DOING **** GYMNASTICS
WITH HER *** HIGH IN THE AIR
SHE HAD SOMETHING IN HER "OUT" HOLE
AND I THOUGHT, "I DON'T THINK THAT THING BELONGS IN THERE"
SO I SHUT DOWN MY COMPUTER
AND THE SCREEN FADED TO BLACK
I THOUGHT I'D LOST ALL MY FILES
AND THERE'S NO WAY IN THE WORLD TO GET THEM BACK
I'D BE OFF LINE WELL PAST CHRISTMAS
AND THERE'S NOTHING MORE TO SAY
I'D BEEN BURNED BY SURFING **** SITES
SEEING THINGS YOU SHOULDN'T SEE ON CHRISTMAS DAY
WHEN MY HEAD DID HIT MY PILLOW
I SWORE FROM **** SITES I'D REFRAIN
BUT I WOKE UP EARLY THE NEXT MORNING
AND FOUND A HALF SUCKED STICKY CANDY CANE
I COULD NOT HELP BUT WONDER
WHO HAD LEFT IT HERE BESIDE
BUT I KNEW DEEP DOWN IT CAME FROM
SANTA ON HIS ONE NIGHT YEARLY RIDE
WHEN I TURNED ON MY COMPUTER
I KNEW I'D KEEP IT TO MYSELF
NO ONE WOULD BELIEVE IT IF I TOLD THEM
OF **** SITES FULL OF DEER AND NAKED ELVES.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
Prosecco cocktails, être pour la danse,
cassis pour moi avec limoncello,
madame, passion fruit, and blood oranges
très grownup, breakfast at Tiffany's,
she is all sunglasses and Audreyfied,
me and George P., struggling writers,
checking if i got enough cash
or have to exit smooth, just in case,
maybe we leave our
coats behind, as ransom?
lincoln center plaza cross-dressers,
past the opera,
the sun, a balmy thirty five degrees,
laughing at us teasingly,
cause tonight and tomorrow,
*********** all the day,
winter kisses
in case we forgot,
early March
first belongs to the Ides of Winter
Afternoon of a Faun,
another ballet, origin,
a Mallarmé poem.
(you begin to comprehend)
yes quite so,
a perfect synopsis of the day,
Acheron imported from Scarlett Liam
who lives in the U.K.,
but comes to choreograph here,
for gloria Americana
sundown, soul cold back,
"lest we forget,"
but the dancers bid us adieu
with a rousing waltz, frenchified,
La Valse, une poème chorégraphique,
by Ravel, bien sûr!
aroused and heart gladdened,
return home for
for veal chop love
two hours of *** banging,
kitchen banishment, (Yay!)
chanterelles steeped in red wine,
coverlet for a non-vegan tasting,
English peas, red and purple potatoes,
and for desert,
a diet dream of verbal exchanged of detailed
I love you's
He: I love you,
She (happy), replies: I love you more.
(this repartee ballet, has been rehearsal danced before)
He: Why?
She: Because you are kind and generous, to street beggars, my single friends, good and smart, love art,
and never let me down, and love my cooking, leave space for others when you park, go thru life making waiters and ticket takers smile and laugh, sleep for hours your head on my hip, write me crazy love poems about veal chops
He: What's for desert tonight?
She: A ****
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
If I ever see you again
I'll spat insults and hope they
Spray on your aviators
like the bugs that squashed against
my windshield the last time
I drove away from you
If fate destroys me
and I am in the same pub one night
as your wormy self
I'll tell you how you're the most
arrogant, vapid, shallow, womanizing,
******* male mascot
I've ever had the disgust to know
I'll slap you hard across the face
Oh and not like Scarlett O'Hara,
you demon darling
No crushing kiss will follow
and I'll mean vengence
vile will seep through my mouth
instead of the sweet saliva
I let you taste
long ago
If I ever hear your voice
or see your mocking manequin
among my tele again
With disgraceful force
I will lift that 50 lb set
and propel that ******* screen
across the state
The way your black static apology
shattered the brightness
that used to reside
within
me
If I hear of you
one more dispicable time
I'll grow bombs maticulously
within my empty core
and time them so perfectly
that all of your dysfunctional doormat
confidants
will explode the second they come near me
and their manipulative cells
will burst
and be burried among the soil
of ***** words
you whispered in my ears
**** if I ever see you again
I'll shatter every martini glass around me
and down a fifth of fireball
and breath venomous fire
and burn you, you beastly boy
And I'll pretend beauty amongst you
and walk away, a tall glass of water
That could diffuse
that angry licking fire
that is swallowing you up
When I see you again
I won't acknowledge your existence
and I'll be dressed to the nines
and I won't do a ******* thing about it
Because you aren't worth a sentence within this stanza
But I know I am.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
I am a dramatized china doll,
but I never rouge my knees.
The MC introduces me as Scarlett.
Lulu embraces me as we saunter
off the platform. Whistles follow my footsteps
digging into my brain, fermenting,
to strong wine.
Gentlemen enter the club to leer
at cabaret girls dancing in lace.
Some are drawn to the boys of the club,
the ones in the dark corners with kohl-rimmed
eyes and eager kisses.
From their seats in the dimness, the audience
fails to notice rips in my blouse, cigarette
butts smudged out in the wings. No one
sees the ***** face powder spread out
among the lighted mirrors, overused,
my own makeup dried out.
Their giggles and applause keep
the club alive, filled with dead
grins from dinner to dawn.
Drum roll—my turn.
We rid them of their troubles.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
"You never finish anything."
Her words pierced my tongue.
I sighed. Hands on hips,
I looked at the broken bulb that flickered at me.
My foot started tapping.
Shifting my weight onto it, bent knee,
I looked sassy.
With the oven steaming, I started backing away.
I didn't like the smell, that's all.
"You're a failure, you know that?"
I knew it. She knew it.
People who met me could see potential,
but my eyes, they screamed disappointment.
I may as well have tattoo'd it on my forehead.
I'd wear it well.
Like Scarlett's letter,
imprinted for everyone to see.
A waste of time, she'd said.
That's all I was to her.
An embarrassment.
And she was right
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 6:26 AM UTC
I awoke alone,
after a horrid dream.
I turned to your face
to feel something comforting.
In the spot that graced your silhouette
were sheets weighted with regret.
My misdirected inflection
coupled with the misconception,
that 1+1=1 not 2 you see,
when the correct formula
is 1+1≥3
Fact is I lied.
When I pronounced "love"
with greater strength than "as long"
Fact is I lied.
When i said unconditional.
It is the beauty in song.
My regret lies in lack of earlier cognition.
This is not the first time this has happened.
Which means I never learned a lesson
inferring to my lack of a mission
or understanding,
in a man's mind muddled.
I took the position
of sitting down in the struggle.
My body fatigued, eyes bloodshot and wary
I refused to see your definition
of affection realized in the lines of the abstract.
Fact is I lied.
When I said forever;
Knowing I am temporary.
Fact is I lied.
I never finished my sentence.
A more complete thought is "one of many"
The complete truth is my love was uniform.
Designed to let any woman fill the mold.
I lacked passion.
Which gives direction in a sandstorm.
I gave up my attempts to understand why water is wet.
Returned to my dreadful fantasy
wherein my heart would contort and deform.
As I told the truth to you
in a Scarlett and Rhett fashion;
We caressed in a snowstorm.
The message cut deeper than I could ever myself.
Fact is I lied.
When I said I would be fine,smiled
and drank in the last light you would reflect.
Fact is I lied.
When I said it was me
It was the both of us I wished to confect.
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
The cocoons cracked open
And these beautiful creatures
That resulted from metamorphosis
Fluttered around their new home
In the wife's stomach
"I am going to pick him up"
She kissed her daughter
Whom also had insects
Fluttering inside her 9 year old stomach lining
720 seconds were spent in the station-wagon
Dodging the potholes the city refused to repair
720 seconds were spent
Taking her to see him.
His flight landed
360 seconds after she arrived
And they embraced one another
for 180 seconds
Before she guided her camouflaged warrior
Back to the station-wagon
Sweaty palms gripped the steering wheel
Salt water streaks on her burning Scarlett cheeks
Bleached teeth being advertised
To her camouflaged warrior
Thhhunkthhuhnkthhunkk
Pothole.
As the wife turned to the rear window
Fearing she hurt one of God's creatures
Frightened she had innocent blood on her hands
Inadvertently disobeyed the shining red beacon ahead of her
Screeching metal violating airwaves
Burning tires sliding against asphalt
Glass fractals orbiting through the sky
Flatline.
Beneath the Mylar balloons
Waiting patiently under the "Welcome Home" banner
Sat a daughter with fluttering butterflies
Unaware the balloons would lose their helium
And the insects inside her would decompose
Long before she would be reunited with her parents again.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
Open the door, and let me into you tonight, where the lights are blind.
Give me something fresh, your flesh, your skin so white under neon lights.
There's a tree on the wall, that makes you look tonight so diamond bright
Scarlett leaves in your hair, they shine to fall in the flight of the night
Will you take my breath for one more time, if the time's all right?
There are no reasons in the dark to hide, because you and I, are a lullaby
This has never been done, just a boy who cried for a lonely sky
It won't be all over when our hearts slowly die and you won't try.
Stop staring at my lips, just look into my eyes.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
I like to walk the bridge at sunset.
I like the feeling of the
Light autumn breeze on my face
As my calves burn,
Pacing myself for the
Two-mile-long journey.
I like the colors the skyline makes,
The soft periwinkle that fades
To turquoise, that
Transitions to a pastel yellow
And drips down into a warm
Scarlett.
I like the art
The city buildings paint against
The sunset.
I like the peacefulness,
Steadiness,
Tranquility in the river,
Its current rippling
Gently in rhythm
With the steady beating of
My half-broken heart.
I like the way my heart has begun
To mend itself,
Once shattered to a million
Itty bitty
Pieces,
It strings itself back together
With every walk,
Every step
Across the bridge,
Across state lines.
Sometimes I'm surrounded
By crowds,
Other times
It's rather calm;
But the faces, regardless of bounty,
Are lost on me
As I lose myself
Deep in thought,
In reflection,
In an attempt to
Forget you
And remember me
As only myself,
Before you and
After.
Day by day,
Step by step,
Sunset after sunset,
Ripple after ripple,
Autumn breeze by autumn breeze,
My senses are heightened,
One by one,
My pain is relinquished,
Little by little,
And my broken heart is mended,
Bit by bit.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
I am so ready to dance
Finally regain control of my mind
Demons scream in anger
I am fighting you
You will no longer control me
No longer corrupt my mind
With your sickening worthless words
You will degrade to ash
I am going to crush your addiction for my pain
Crush your addiction to see scarlett trail down my arm
I will burn you and your voices
Burn you with my hatred for your toxic voice
You will not crawl through my veins
You will not spread your poison
You will no longer rip me apart
One god **** piece at a time
Flowers will flourish in your remains
Sunshine will melt into my heart
Into my mind
I will dance like never before
I will not dance on fragile ice anymore
I will dance on solid ground
You can not stop me.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
4/20
99
indescri-
bible,
colum-
bine.
This launched,
a devious
plan-
something the whole
world needs to
understand:
Society makes its mark,
their wish came true.
&elieve; me when i say
they thought nothing of me
or you.
they only drew you near.
You be-
lieved,
to them,
you we-
re dear.
But then one day, you realized, you were no longer their peer.
Leaving their reputation:
smeared.
You told them your worries
you said them LOUD and clear,
they didn’t give a ****
instead they riddled you with fear.
they really shouldn't care.
but you had to leave your mark, when
living in their massed produced ware
forced you to spend your days in the dark.
it is true
within everything they do.
they do not really care.
society serves to exploit me
while exploiting you, too.
------------------------------------
So this is where we stand,
among all the **** in the land.
and we still wonder why another man’s grass
is far more grand.
we must eradicate
everything we were told to ever know
do you know the devil
may live within your own
very home?
So many sit and wait
with their message in a bottle,
but what we need to do
is go heavy on the throttle.
Build yourself a sanctuary,
somewhere in merry's land
become Mr. Manson,
or maybe you prefer,
Scarlett Johansson.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
Used, ruined, ***** impure
That's how I want to be remembered for sure.
***** **** ** dame
That's how I rose to fame.
What can I do to erase this scarlett letter?
I must learn to keep a secret better..
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
A repost:
A Roman poem written before The birth of Christ, inspired the title Gone With The wind
with Scarlett and Rhett Butler
But here you see only old
confessions of a man's true love for his beloved who is all gone
-Or-
(Or a woman's true love for
her beloved runner wishing she could have chased.)
~~~
CYNAR*A.
~~~~~
Last night yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! Thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was grey:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! Gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! The night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
~~~~~~~
By:Ernest Dowson
For:RhettlvScarlet.
to honor Karijinbba
in her great loss and healing
of her memory chip.
~~~~~~
Copy Rights.
~~~~
Ernest Dowson (1867-1900) died of alcoholism at the age of 32. His downward spiral began at age 23 when he fell for an 11 year old girl who would spurn him at 14 when he proposed marriage.
The following year, in 1894 his father died from an overdose. Dowson's mother
hanged herself within a year of her husband's death.
Soon after this dual tragedy Dowson left for France before returning back to England in 1897. Curiously he lived with the family of his unrequited love. Penniless, heartbroken and filling the empty voids in his life with alcohol, Dowson would spend the last six weeks of his life in the cottage of the Oscar Wilde biographer Robert Sherard who had found him
drunk in a bar.
Speaking of Oscar Wilde, he wrote after Dowson's death of a,"Poor wounded wonderful fellow that he was, a tragic reproduction of all tragic poetry, like a symbol, or a scene.
I hope bay leaves will be laid on his tomb and rue and myrtle too for he knew what true love
unrequieted love was."
~~~~~
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 12:44 AM UTC
Your ex-girl friend looks like ice
and I'm fire.
Talk me down to Earth,
the energy has ***** my heart these days.
Desire.
Sacral chakra running roses through the ground.
Dragon's blood ink - I wanna write your name.
It's red like eyes from the winter, red like boiling point.
Do you miss my lipstick or Scarlett - my name?
The color of a liquid you would sacrifice for injustice
in the name of a government.
Red like the sheets in the hotel bed when I took your virginity.
The color of the gang you represented at every night club,
the hand motions from club meetings that yearned rebellion.
I want to see your tattoo I drew to depict you a month before you got it.
Red like cop lights that saw the last of you.
111
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
Water balloon organs make up my shape
Swelling with emotional fluids
forever amplifying, squishing together
My emotions are no longer separate
My maudlin heart rests its head
on the shoulder of my claustrophobic lungs
They breathe heavily in the intimacy
of such a dangerous seduction
They're panting like a canine in heat
it's such a perilous defeat
All of these water balloons
Swelling with emotional fluids
Lose their shape when stabbed
by your dagger fingers
by your dagger teeth
by your dagger tongue
by your dagger words
They're so filled with holes
and my fluids flow freely
mixing together in a scarlett sea
a potion of swelling emotion
You and your daggers
are attracted to deformation
which is why you think my swaying back
that keeps me from standing upright
is so ****
At least my suffering is ****
Not that I have anyone to be **** for anymore
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 9:54 PM UTC
There are Amber's and Jade's and Ruby's and Scarlett's in this world
Their spectrum of colours and beauty excel the grey in my heart
I was born in the dust and dirt and I'll die in it
I am not a jewel exposed, like them.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
I want a letter written to me,
Starting with Dear and ending with my utmost affection,
I wanna be brought up during those days where guys tried,
Like not afraid to get denied,
Lets pretend the internet isn't alive,
I wanna dance ballroom style, and let a man take the lead,
I want him to pretty much just protect me,
I'm trashing all this feministic ****
Lets go back to those days when girls were respected and taken care of,
Rewind and replay the parts of Pride and Prejudice,
Or I wanna be Scarlett O'hara battling it out with Rhett,
I want a man who won't be so afraid,
Sure my face is pretty and whatnot, but why don't you say it to me?
Like grow a pair,
Grab me,
Make a move,
Don't be so **** afraid to hug me,
Please,
All I'm asking,
And I want to be dressed to the nines with ball gowns that go down to my ankles, and my hair all curled like Maria Antoinette,
Ok so maybe I've lost my mine,
But I sure wanna ride a carriage at twilight,
And have candles light the night,
Silly of me I suppose,
But still I cannot help but want those ancient times,
When men had to act right
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
Infinite, iridescent ribbons
Spinning out around us.
With every word you let slip,
I dare say I see every hue,
Drifting closer to me,
and you.
They speed up with every second of anticipation,
Wrapping tightly around our skins sensation.
But somehow, these mingling ties,
they cannot bind me.
instead they move us.
A deep blue undertow, your eyes,
washing over my entirety.
Bright hot Scarlett's sweetly pulling us in,
Closing the only gap left between us,
now chest to chest.
white light, tracers at your mouths content.
silver as winters first gasping breath,
shivers as you reach for me again.
Our strings of thought do not break as they should.
Concoctions of enthrall,
tangling, mending, strengthening,
as you move to my hearts rapid beat.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
These nightmares you have, you hold in your heart,
The times now long past,
Will tear you apart
When all that you hold, down deep in your soul,
Are feelings you have of things that you know
Scarlett laced liquid runs through each bone
To the twitch of the eyes that turn you to stone
With every breath exhaled
Your heart beats the eulogy
And the tempo is slowed
The creatures fear as you lay in your bed
Are the firstborn of fright you hold in your head
By manifest loathing in the things that you’ve seen
In things that are done and places you’ve been
The tears down your eyes are like chills down your spine
In the sadness that’s shown and fear in its kind
The look in your ocean-sprayed eye betrays your still hands
And relay the soft meaning your lips could demand
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 4:38 PM UTC
Water balloon organs make up my shape
Swelling with emotional fluids
forever amplifying, squishing together
My emotions are no longer separate
My maudlin heart rests its head
on the shoulder of my claustrophobic lungs
They breathe heavily in the intimacy
of such a dangerous seduction
They're panting like a canine in heat
it's such a perilous defeat
All of these water balloons
Swelling with emotional fluids
Lose their shape when stabbed
by your dagger fingers
by your dagger teeth
by your dagger tongue
by your dagger words
They're so filled with holes
and my fluids flow freely
mixing together in a scarlett sea
a potion of swelling emotion
You and your daggers
are attracted to deformation
which is why you think my swaying back
that keeps me from standing upright
is so ****
At least my suffering is ****
Not that I have anyone to be **** for anymore
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 1:19 AM UTC
She followed him out the front door
After his failure to give "a ****
Her lonely wail above him soared,
And he turned while she took her stand,
She tried begging him urgently,
"Rhett Butler, please don't go!
Old Ashley's gone as you can see,
And I've done what I didn't know...
Oh, Rhett, won't you come back, please?"
But he kept his word, let not even a moan
Gave no second thought to the dame,
Rode off to a life of wealth on his own...
And drove poor old Scarlet insane.
And O'Hara lived her life half crazed,
Yes, she lived but not very well...
Once you've lost at love, it's the end of your days,
And you cannot unring a cracked Southern Belle.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
We’re making movies that no one will see,
about things that mean the world to us,
at a certain moment in time and space,
but that mean less than a rat’s *** to anyone outside our bodies.
We never regret the echo in the large hall,
nor the words that OUR scarlett and OUR rhett say to each other
during the 126 minutes long director’s cut –
their tears are ours,
their love,
despair and
hunger for life
will be included in next month’s newsletter.
We’re making movies about those parts of our lives
that weren’t played out so well.
It’s our way of saying “sorry” or “thank you”.
We’re making movies that some don’t even call “movies” –
intimate quantum leaps, inner fights between our bodies and minds.
It hurts us, yeah. We’re not (all) made of stone.
We, sometimes, get frustrated and don’t even know exactly why.
We wake up in the middle of the night,
running the entire dialogue list in our head,
sleepwalking through the entire movie,
screaming at our non-suspecting sleeping significant other to be quiet and to get out of the frame,
“cause we’re ******* making a ******* movie here and every ******* second matters”.
We’re making (silent) movies because
we’re tired of all this noise,
because
that’s the only way we can have some “Aaaaaction” in our lives
and some frames to be proud of.
We’re not making movies to prove that the world is wrong
nor that we possess the ultimate truth.
No.
We’re not making movies to prove that the world is beautiful
and that we know nothing and that that nothingness should tickle your funny filmic bone.
No.
We’re making movies that make the entire world think that there’s something wrong with us,
that we can’t relate to our surroundings in a healthy and normal way.
We’re making movies so WE can experience, in the most familiar way,
the new wave long shot convention that YOU all hate
and diss in the digital environment,
as if your lives were made out of fast cut blockbuster shots
and not lonely, long walks through a dull park. Good for you, Max!
We’re making movies because
we don’t wanna have to explain ourselves,
like I’m doing right now.
Reality sometimes needs its own subtitle and.. **** You know what?
The truth is that we’re not making movies.
We’re making moves.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
I am one with the night
I have outwalked the last city light
upon the lonliest paved road
Hid from city faces
walking in shadows
dropped eyes, not knowing how to explain
I have stood at the edge of the furthest riverbank
crisp air escaping my parted scarlett lips
drowning in the song of the rushing water
Just to escape the inturrupted city
my only companion
the stars
I am one with the night
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
We're just like Carrie and Mr. Big
You want to be free
We're just like Harry and Sally
We like each other at the wrong times
We're just like Lloyd and Diane
I'll never stop trying
We're just like Allie and Noah
From different walks of life
We're just like Scarlett and Rhett
Independent and Fickle
We're just like Ilsa and Rick
Nothing can separate us forever
We're just like Bridget and Mark
Childhood friends turned accidental lovers
We're just like Hubbell and Katie
I'm just too unique to settle down with
We're just like you and me
Undefined , real, struggling
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
"Hey"
"Hi"
"How was your day?"
"I think I have a CRUSH on you" (Delete)
"I LOVE you." (Sent)
"I wish we could have this conversation face to face...
typing...
typing...
typing..."
"I am sorry" (Delete)
"Goodnight" (Sent)
"Goodbye"
.
.
"You know seeing you smile makes me feel that I am the most fortunate person alive." (Delete)
"You know your smile can bring world peace" (Sent)
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"I keep hoping that you'll talk to me first" (Delete)
"I can feel my lust grow, each time you utter hello" (Delete)
"You know the first time we kissed. It was as if you were drowning and I was the air" (Delete)
"Today my music player went bonkers, it played only those songs that you've sent me" (Delete)
"It's been more than an year and I still miss you like I am missing a limb" (Delete)
"I did not know that bones could ache, until I met you" (Delete)
"Heyyyy! Itzz two am. And thees alcohol tastes like youu." (Delete)
"I have never had so many long nights" (Delete)
"You know I have started writing poems and most of them are about you. So that the love I have for you I can give it to the world. Because you won't take it from me" (Delete)
"Strangers read my poems. They think you are a bad guy. But I keep defending you because you are not. I still love you, I guess. I definitely miss you. Do you?" (Delete)
"How done with me are you?" (Delete)
"I walk past your house so many times. Like a ninja, trying to catch a glimpse of your silhouette. You know I succeeded once!" (Delete)
"I hate the fact that I can't hate you... not even at all" (Delete)
"I keep scratching my skin. But, skin..... I can't even get you out of my soul." (Delete)
"Why wasn't I enough?" (Delete)
"It's funny. You are like a disease that long left me. But, I still get sicker each passing day." (Delete)
"I keep rechecking our past texts exchanged. It helps me believe that you weren't fiction." (Delete)
"I am not working anymore. I think you broke me" (Delete)
"I see your face in every stranger I pass by. So, I've learnt walking with my head down." (Delete)
"I knew you were broken. So was I. I wish we could have taken our pain together to create something beautiful. A painting of brokenness." (Delete)
"You know they say you know yourself by meeting others. They say it right." (Delete)
"I assume we were never in love, but, we could have been." (Delete)
..
..
..
..
"Hey. Long time. I know you love Scarlett Johansson. Her new movie is out. Want to watch it with me?" (Sent)
"Hey, Hope you are doing well?" (Sent)
"I have started writing poems. You should check them out." (Sent)
"It's been so long that I have seen you. I can hardly remember your face anymore." (Sent)
"I dream about you constantly. I think I still love you" (Sent)
"I miss you" (Sent)
"Hey! I swear my cat did that" (Sent)
SEEN
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC