Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Toxic yeti Dec 2018
There was a monk
And a young woman
Two forbidden lovers
Kiss in the moonlight
As two shillouette
Chakras glowing
But as they explore
Their bodies
Their tounges dancing
The shillouettes
Turn into one
Shillouette
One being.
Blake Hinamori May 2015
When You hear the name Blake
I bet you think of someone

They could be a person who is full of love
Who is always smiling and just a ball of sunshine
Or
Someone who crushed you
who left you in the rain, eyes on fire
Charred a soul-rending black from the pain
The 3 A.M. Acid of a conversation splashed in your eyes
Or maybe you don't think of anyone when you hear that name.
Maybe just a shillouette

But when I hear the name Blake
I see a seventeen year old boy
With short light brown hair
And deep, brown eyes

I see him every day,
for all of my days
On most he adorns a smile
A genuine curve on his face

But There are days
Where he's become hollow
Only a Shadow, frozen
in his black drift of a nightmare he's caught in
But I will always see him

I see him angrily try to style his hair in the morning
I see him in the dead of night
Feels like everything falls apart, and slips through his fingers
But still I persist, to be so distantly close to him

We are one and the same, black as to white
But if this is true
Then the black can be gray
And so can the white
This is the that confusion that dwells in their subconscious
This is the infinite limbo in which they both reside

He is a bundle of joy stuck between happiness and sadness
And me...I'm broken

I'm Confused
on why I hide him from others
When he is me and I am him.

Maybe I fear what they'll say
When he comes out hoping for open arms
But receives the pain he expects too well
Be it judgement Or hate.

So I hide him
But I want him to know
I'm not ashamed of him
That I love him because he's who I really am
And that one day
Which I hope is soon

I'll no longer introduce myself as Mercedes
The person who feels out of place in their body
But As Blake
The person who is happy and feels like they are finally who there suppose to be.
I'm finally happy because I'm who I want to be.
Zuzanna Dec 2017
It's been a while since I last was
At the train station.
I miss the icy wind
And the stench of ****.
I recall two trains on both sides
Of this train station.
The red one will lead you west,
The green will take him east.
So you stand by the empty tracks
And watch his shillouette disappear
In the swarming mob of passengers.
You can't see him anymore,
But his fingers still linger around your back.
And you don't know this,
But he can't forget the smell of your hair.
The green train loudly scurries away
And the sound breaks your heart.
I feel sorry for you.
I feel sorry for the station
And the red train that you hate so much.
One day I'll return,
Barefood on the railroad,
With his name trapped in my palm.
Just as you promised.

— The End —