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"subtitle" poems
that should be the name of a song or a poem or a memoir of a man who remembers nothing but danger that passed him by, ruffling his hair as it passed, ignoring his pleas: stay please stay please stay i just want to mean something, he would say (that could be the subtitle or the blurb, something to draw the reader in; if floating bodies aren’t enough) i just want to mean something, and near-death experiences are the flavor of the day. i’m not brave enough to do it myself, i’m not a hero or a villain, just a lonely boy, undefined individual, and your 350 teeth can help me mean so much more, 350 individual teeth that float above my head, falling out one by one as you bloat with seawater (and here the first chapter would end, here we would break for intermission, audience smiling over martinis. only 32 teeth, did some fall out? too many maraschino cherries will do that to you. too much sugar on the rim of that glass) dead sharks in the current and none glance twice i keep yelling but they just deflect my bubbles, and the surface swallows them like the heartless ***** she is i keep yelling but they just move farther i keep yelling but stay please stay please stay i just want to mean something. i just want some blood on my hands is that so much to ask? i just want some of my blood in the water, to be a survivor or a victim (whichever gets more press coverage; who cares about a memoir that nobody reads? who cares about a memoir where nobody gets hurt?) i just want shark teeth in my heart, he would say, i don’t want to make a mark on the world, i want the world to make a mark on me. that should be the name of a song or a poem or the eulogy of a boring man.
0
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
robin-goodfellow
dead sharks
that should be the name of a song or a poem or a memoir of a man who remembers nothing but danger that passed him by, ruffling his hair as it passed, ignoring his pleas: stay please stay please stay i just want to mean something, he would say (that could be the subtitle or the blurb, something to draw the reader in; if floating bodies aren’t enough) i just want to mean something, and near-death experiences are the flavor of the day. i’m not brave enough to do it myself, i’m not a hero or a villain, just a lonely boy, undefined individual, and your 350 teeth can help me mean so much more, 350 individual teeth that float above my head, falling out one by one as you bloat with seawater (and here the first chapter would end, here we would break for intermission, audience smiling over martinis. only 32 teeth, did some fall out? too many maraschino cherries will do that to you. too much sugar on the rim of that glass) dead sharks in the current and none glance twice i keep yelling but they just deflect my bubbles, and the surface swallows them like the heartless ***** she is i keep yelling but they just move farther i keep yelling but stay please stay please stay i just want to mean something. i just want some blood on my hands is that so much to ask? i just want some of my blood in the water, to be a survivor or a victim (whichever gets more press coverage; who cares about a memoir that nobody reads? who cares about a memoir where nobody gets hurt?) i just want shark teeth in my heart, he would say, i don’t want to make a mark on the world, i want the world to make a mark on me. that should be the name of a song or a poem or the eulogy of a boring man.
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50
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.
0
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC
miss-clofullia
#cinema
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.
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48
Instability. Keyword: instability. Mid-May and the room has a blue cold, runny nose, condensation clasping the window like a quiet leech. Through the narrow chinks of my cavern, I can glimpse a computer surrounded by world in peripheral; fish eye vision like religious fervor, I realize life has made a lasting impression on whatever I am. whatever I am. Dream fades to life, life fades to dream, some alien language crash landed on Earth and now we all speak English (except, you know, the ten thousand other dialects all branched from the Indo-European earth worm). People like to say that everything changes. Nothing stays the same. Does the fact of change never change? Does that not make constants a possibility, even if only within the Many World Interpretation of Quantum Physics (capitalized! it's a name and 'Quantum Physics' likes playing the smiling subtitle ( :) ) ) now I wasn't in Copenhagen the day a jury of physicists decided on Reality; but I was in Reality (capital R) so I'm sure that counts for something. They say they don't know who 'they' are; as if a brief allusion to a greater network somehow invalidates the point (but 'they' is the 'you' you decide to ignore; the 'you' composite of influences 'you' simply grew around; 'they' is the part of yourself 'you' keep tucked away comfortably like a newborn child that doesn't know any better).
0
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
tread
copen
Instability. Keyword: instability. Mid-May and the room has a blue cold, runny nose, condensation clasping the window like a quiet leech. Through the narrow chinks of my cavern, I can glimpse a computer surrounded by world in peripheral; fish eye vision like religious fervor, I realize life has made a lasting impression on whatever I am. whatever I am. Dream fades to life, life fades to dream, some alien language crash landed on Earth and now we all speak English (except, you know, the ten thousand other dialects all branched from the Indo-European earth worm). People like to say that everything changes. Nothing stays the same. Does the fact of change never change? Does that not make constants a possibility, even if only within the Many World Interpretation of Quantum Physics (capitalized! it's a name and 'Quantum Physics' likes playing the smiling subtitle ( :) ) ) now I wasn't in Copenhagen the day a jury of physicists decided on Reality; but I was in Reality (capital R) so I'm sure that counts for something. They say they don't know who 'they' are; as if a brief allusion to a greater network somehow invalidates the point (but 'they' is the 'you' you decide to ignore; the 'you' composite of influences 'you' simply grew around; 'they' is the part of yourself 'you' keep tucked away comfortably like a newborn child that doesn't know any better).
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6
Subtitle: Unexpected visitors Entanglement states that two particles that have become linked in a special way can be separated to any distance-even opposite ends of the universe-and a change in one particle will be immediately reflected in the other. (M. Ireland) Seems when my lids are shut tight that's when my mind's eye cracks open Clarity within the fog..... I see a sweet little cottage      cozy and quaint just like a stage set for secrets. My approach reveals an open door      open mind           open heart. There's snow blanketing the ground.... at least one representation of the real world. I step through the door to find a most unexpected surprise.....      the butterflies in my stomach emerge from dormancy      our lips electrified      magnetic. This time we both try to fight it Try being the key word. Off stage      off set            off site I know another really important person is there. I want to see him more but I can't pull myself away. He is a memory. He has yet to visit. He makes me feel safe but the butterflies go back to sleep when I step away from you.
0
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
any-present-moment
Wham....bam....and another (far more important) man
Subtitle: Unexpected visitors Entanglement states that two particles that have become linked in a special way can be separated to any distance-even opposite ends of the universe-and a change in one particle will be immediately reflected in the other. (M. Ireland) Seems when my lids are shut tight that's when my mind's eye cracks open Clarity within the fog..... I see a sweet little cottage      cozy and quaint just like a stage set for secrets. My approach reveals an open door      open mind           open heart. There's snow blanketing the ground.... at least one representation of the real world. I step through the door to find a most unexpected surprise.....      the butterflies in my stomach emerge from dormancy      our lips electrified      magnetic. This time we both try to fight it Try being the key word. Off stage      off set            off site I know another really important person is there. I want to see him more but I can't pull myself away. He is a memory. He has yet to visit. He makes me feel safe but the butterflies go back to sleep when I step away from you.
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33
he’s got this look like he doesn’t know how much he’s into them for and the kicker is he’s alone. I’d subtitle him as nervous but it wouldn’t be ample. we’re brothers, 4 years between our bleaker anxieties. he talks with his arms and I see my father at age 32 and my father sees me and winks. brother he knocks the table wood that separates us with both knuckles and tells me he’s gonna need luck in both of these and he shows his open palms. he begins to gag and I **** but he shows me again his palms. I lean back in my chair and pretend I am in a very small space and pretend I am cigarette smoke. I see the oval in his throat and then an egg and then the egg broken on the table. my brother he loses his cool and bites his palms and futilely tries to set the table afire with matches, some light some don’t, no matter. he tells me he usually catches the egg and telling me calms him. still, it’s some trick and I say it. not a trick, he says, but magic. he drowses right there in front of me and my subtitle is **** because I am scared. we go inside to the dog we’re sitting for and I retire to the guestroom where I check the eggs in my bag to make sure they’ve not broken. I go into the bathroom with one of them and say down the hatch. I spend the night on a hard bed and care for my stomach. my stomach and not the egg.
0
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 9:33 AM UTC
barton-d-smock
equals (for Noah)
he’s got this look like he doesn’t know how much he’s into them for and the kicker is he’s alone. I’d subtitle him as nervous but it wouldn’t be ample. we’re brothers, 4 years between our bleaker anxieties. he talks with his arms and I see my father at age 32 and my father sees me and winks. brother he knocks the table wood that separates us with both knuckles and tells me he’s gonna need luck in both of these and he shows his open palms. he begins to gag and I **** but he shows me again his palms. I lean back in my chair and pretend I am in a very small space and pretend I am cigarette smoke. I see the oval in his throat and then an egg and then the egg broken on the table. my brother he loses his cool and bites his palms and futilely tries to set the table afire with matches, some light some don’t, no matter. he tells me he usually catches the egg and telling me calms him. still, it’s some trick and I say it. not a trick, he says, but magic. he drowses right there in front of me and my subtitle is **** because I am scared. we go inside to the dog we’re sitting for and I retire to the guestroom where I check the eggs in my bag to make sure they’ve not broken. I go into the bathroom with one of them and say down the hatch. I spend the night on a hard bed and care for my stomach. my stomach and not the egg.
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1
Cast into the glass Sharpened tight Make me torn Brought back from Heaven And what makes this good Repetition Repetition Repetition Spell-check Marker scents and elephants Porridge and the crumbs of Lucifer Along with types of archetypes of subtitle psyches Lucifer proud, go away oh you sinners and saints Too many tools of thoroughly-bred rules Glass
0
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
gabriel-peter-green
Roll Up Thy Sleeves
Cast into the glass Sharpened tight Make me torn Brought back from Heaven And what makes this good Repetition Repetition Repetition Spell-check Marker scents and elephants Porridge and the crumbs of Lucifer Along with types of archetypes of subtitle psyches Lucifer proud, go away oh you sinners and saints Too many tools of thoroughly-bred rules Glass
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13
I want you in a gasping sort of way.
0
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
shrinking-violet
Subtitle
I want you in a gasping sort of way.
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1
contemplations of an angsty agnostic otherwise known as the subtitle to my lengthy biopic or the fumbling intellectual journey the endless search to find the divine reality behind, to trace, pinpoint exactly what lies at the center of the cosmos at the crucified heart of all humankind some days i feel there is no God no chance of a higher power i'm resigned to spewing cliched aphorisms as nihilistic as Schopenhauer fragmented theories and meditations on life consuming my thoughts and flooding my mind ideas tessellate and twist as i'm crumbling, stumbling to try and make sense of all this i find the existential condition that burdens the shoulders of the wonder filled kids from the blinkered blues of the beats to the hopeful hedonism of the hippies and the time tick ticks regardless of the passing ecstasy of our dream-filled kicks i feel there must be something more than this. absurdity has the tendency to consume the very core of me ultimately, does that not make me more free? like Sisyphus, i stagnate repetitive routines threaten to enchain me but i believe i know the path i'm on and i have to know it will save me we live in times of overwhelming, reeling uncertainty is it true that one day the gleaming, spinning light will find me?
0
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
ellie-d
Untitled
contemplations of an angsty agnostic otherwise known as the subtitle to my lengthy biopic or the fumbling intellectual journey the endless search to find the divine reality behind, to trace, pinpoint exactly what lies at the center of the cosmos at the crucified heart of all humankind some days i feel there is no God no chance of a higher power i'm resigned to spewing cliched aphorisms as nihilistic as Schopenhauer fragmented theories and meditations on life consuming my thoughts and flooding my mind ideas tessellate and twist as i'm crumbling, stumbling to try and make sense of all this i find the existential condition that burdens the shoulders of the wonder filled kids from the blinkered blues of the beats to the hopeful hedonism of the hippies and the time tick ticks regardless of the passing ecstasy of our dream-filled kicks i feel there must be something more than this. absurdity has the tendency to consume the very core of me ultimately, does that not make me more free? like Sisyphus, i stagnate repetitive routines threaten to enchain me but i believe i know the path i'm on and i have to know it will save me we live in times of overwhelming, reeling uncertainty is it true that one day the gleaming, spinning light will find me?
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30
I'm here still.
0
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
cloudsgone
Subtitle
I'm here still.
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1
There are scenes I'd like to rewind some delete others re-shoot ones to work on in post production shots to subtitle some record   and others replace to finally watch it like a movie
0
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
maria-etre
Life Direction
There are scenes I'd like to rewind some delete others re-shoot ones to work on in post production shots to subtitle some record   and others replace to finally watch it like a movie
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12
to overcorrect the subtitle of touch give him a moment- then just as he whether he’s a him or a her lifts the temporary tattoo of light say you’d stay but your pain needs you. if you can, for me. you’ve so much to miss doing.
0
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
barton-d-smock
false positive
to overcorrect the subtitle of touch give him a moment- then just as he whether he’s a him or a her lifts the temporary tattoo of light say you’d stay but your pain needs you. if you can, for me. you’ve so much to miss doing.
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22
It's a film a steamy English romance, hero and heroine in black and white (the steam of ancient train's smoke), give each other a sly furtive glance no prospect of rapid ***** or poke; he removing from her eye a speck, they part the gent risks a little peck *** Not in this Empire, oh no siree Viewer imagine but you may not see. In a French flick au contraire oui oui Oh ** ** monochrome mais tres blue A subtitle or two then "how do you do?" Hairy hunk grabs at the buxom ***** Tips her over a bed or maybe a bench Bare-chest nuzzles the actress's ******* ****** achieved as their gasping attests Post-coitus Gauloisy kisses get shared, Anglo-Gallic brief encounters compared.
0
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
frank-ernest-gibbard
Brief Encounter(s)
It's a film a steamy English romance, hero and heroine in black and white (the steam of ancient train's smoke), give each other a sly furtive glance no prospect of rapid ***** or poke; he removing from her eye a speck, they part the gent risks a little peck *** Not in this Empire, oh no siree Viewer imagine but you may not see. In a French flick au contraire oui oui Oh ** ** monochrome mais tres blue A subtitle or two then "how do you do?" Hairy hunk grabs at the buxom ***** Tips her over a bed or maybe a bench Bare-chest nuzzles the actress's ******* ****** achieved as their gasping attests Post-coitus Gauloisy kisses get shared, Anglo-Gallic brief encounters compared.
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18
Breathing between half naked gasps of torn away clothing. Relief as your lips mend mine. Guitar stringed lullaby, it's not reality. But it's real enough, for my hand to brush. Up against, between your thighs. To kiss all the mysterious places that you hide...it's the way your skin feels against these fresh sheets. That make you stay...
0
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
madison-moskowitz
Subtitle
Breathing between half naked gasps of torn away clothing. Relief as your lips mend mine. Guitar stringed lullaby, it's not reality. But it's real enough, for my hand to brush. Up against, between your thighs. To kiss all the mysterious places that you hide...it's the way your skin feels against these fresh sheets. That make you stay...
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1
Subtitle: Actions speak louder than words Love     Lust     Lies Skin             Bone                           Eyes Give     Need     Take Fail               Hope                             Fake Hide     Fall      Keep Rove              ****                           Reap Less     More     None Gone              Dead                            Done
0
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
any-present-moment
Four Letter Words: A Collection
Subtitle: Actions speak louder than words Love     Lust     Lies Skin             Bone                           Eyes Give     Need     Take Fail               Hope                             Fake Hide     Fall      Keep Rove              ****                           Reap Less     More     None Gone              Dead                            Done
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17
Shadows on the wall, what was short was tall. And then darkest night falls. Nothing would stop the deformed dolls. Pure evil engaging in blood writings. So cold and bold that it causes the bats to be frightened. Dogs in closed cages are howling. Fear leaves humans embracing. Then, it came, the noise pause to reveal horror's sentence was a clause. The knife instead of a flash light was all i could toss. A pat on my shoulder and i turned around. Drooping saliva, sick eyes, ***** clothes and abnormal physique. I prepared to scream then i woke on my laptop's keyboard only to see the movie subtitle that says: "Curtains Closed"
0
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
okoye-chude-maryanne
Ghost Writings
Shadows on the wall, what was short was tall. And then darkest night falls. Nothing would stop the deformed dolls. Pure evil engaging in blood writings. So cold and bold that it causes the bats to be frightened. Dogs in closed cages are howling. Fear leaves humans embracing. Then, it came, the noise pause to reveal horror's sentence was a clause. The knife instead of a flash light was all i could toss. A pat on my shoulder and i turned around. Drooping saliva, sick eyes, ***** clothes and abnormal physique. I prepared to scream then i woke on my laptop's keyboard only to see the movie subtitle that says: "Curtains Closed"
Continue reading...
21
Subtitle: concert cherry popped His eyes, full of wonder glued to the stage waiting for the band to assume the position sun not yet set the thump thump thumping begins. His hands raise up he joins the crowd still melting in to the beat as the sun beats too. Intermission intrigues and builds suspense he doesn't know the process yet. The sun slips behind the flagpole then the jumbo-tron racing the light show (all purples and greens). The crowd roars to life at the first strum and drum. He jumps to his seat already wearing the overpriced t-shirt he bought lips moving, reciting the words he has memorized from setting the CD to repeat head bobbing keeping a perfect beat. When the sun finally sleeps he gets the full effect: light show, big drums, guitar solo, stage smoke- No encore (musically speaking) but a visual symphony as the fireworks make smiley faces in the full moon sky.
0
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
any-present-moment
A player at the big show
Subtitle: concert cherry popped His eyes, full of wonder glued to the stage waiting for the band to assume the position sun not yet set the thump thump thumping begins. His hands raise up he joins the crowd still melting in to the beat as the sun beats too. Intermission intrigues and builds suspense he doesn't know the process yet. The sun slips behind the flagpole then the jumbo-tron racing the light show (all purples and greens). The crowd roars to life at the first strum and drum. He jumps to his seat already wearing the overpriced t-shirt he bought lips moving, reciting the words he has memorized from setting the CD to repeat head bobbing keeping a perfect beat. When the sun finally sleeps he gets the full effect: light show, big drums, guitar solo, stage smoke- No encore (musically speaking) but a visual symphony as the fireworks make smiley faces in the full moon sky.
Continue reading...
30
In December, I remember, I walked away My boots were barely on as I stormed out of your doorway. I left without a reason, Without saying goodbye, I just left. But he said goodbye to me the moment he said those words to me, His true intentions instintly became the reality I was always afraid to see, Because you see, this boy was the only I saw gold and time in. I saw purity in his soul, The intentions of god that others could not witness, but I saw them. I was proud of him. He said good bye to me, the moment he broke that hope, He walked away before I step out of his house, Before I ever put my boots and struggled with the zipper of my coat. He said nothing, as did I The silence that was always louder than our words had finally won That Decemeber, I knew things could never be the same I loved you so much my heart hurt, I felt that intolerable pain in my chest, as I ran to my car. Everything became a blur to me, That moment all the memories I had held on to oh so tight, Became a lie, something that was hidden by an invisible cloth It could not be seen by the fool in love I sat in my car in a second of pure silence, I couldnt' think, I couldn't feel, I just sat. My heart started to beat faster than a drum, I panicked, And I couldn't have reversed any faster out of a drive way than I did that day In the middle of the street diagonally i stayed there, while my foot laid on the break ready to put my car in drive, I ubruptly stopped. He ran out of his house screaming my name, Telling me to stop, We both knew he didn't mean the car, or me leaving. Its almost kinda sad, two lost souls who are afraid to speak, Who are afraid to love. He banged his hands on my window, and in that second so much happened when your eyes interlocked. I felt it, He felt it, We both knew. You knew that day in decemeber when the sky was gray and cool that nothing was the same. I rolled my window down and a breeze of nothing hit my skin Shocked I looked at him, but missing his eyes. Holding my breath and my tears The air was muted He could not see the pain my eyes held because I could not face him. He finally said something, something so irrelevant it cringed my skin The dreamer I am, thought finally the movie scene I've been waiting to happen. The moment the guy said, "my biggest mistake was not being with you." And after that, I'd look straight in his eyes and let him know it was right, and I'd kiss him. Everything would be okay because we knew we would have each other, But that's not what happen. He stood out side of my car, Anxious, scared, confused He asked me to borrow a movie. Not just any movie, A movie that we both loved and shared, That whenever we watched it, we thought of each other The movie that brought us together years ago Reading the subtitle of his words I knew he thought he messed up. That day in Decemeber, he lost me A girl that loved him A girl that could never forgive, but never forget The girl that loved that boy, but didn't love her.
0
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
Moonbeamchild
That day in December
In December, I remember, I walked away My boots were barely on as I stormed out of your doorway. I left without a reason, Without saying goodbye, I just left. But he said goodbye to me the moment he said those words to me, His true intentions instintly became the reality I was always afraid to see, Because you see, this boy was the only I saw gold and time in. I saw purity in his soul, The intentions of god that others could not witness, but I saw them. I was proud of him. He said good bye to me, the moment he broke that hope, He walked away before I step out of his house, Before I ever put my boots and struggled with the zipper of my coat. He said nothing, as did I The silence that was always louder than our words had finally won That Decemeber, I knew things could never be the same I loved you so much my heart hurt, I felt that intolerable pain in my chest, as I ran to my car. Everything became a blur to me, That moment all the memories I had held on to oh so tight, Became a lie, something that was hidden by an invisible cloth It could not be seen by the fool in love I sat in my car in a second of pure silence, I couldnt' think, I couldn't feel, I just sat. My heart started to beat faster than a drum, I panicked, And I couldn't have reversed any faster out of a drive way than I did that day In the middle of the street diagonally i stayed there, while my foot laid on the break ready to put my car in drive, I ubruptly stopped. He ran out of his house screaming my name, Telling me to stop, We both knew he didn't mean the car, or me leaving. Its almost kinda sad, two lost souls who are afraid to speak, Who are afraid to love. He banged his hands on my window, and in that second so much happened when your eyes interlocked. I felt it, He felt it, We both knew. You knew that day in decemeber when the sky was gray and cool that nothing was the same. I rolled my window down and a breeze of nothing hit my skin Shocked I looked at him, but missing his eyes. Holding my breath and my tears The air was muted He could not see the pain my eyes held because I could not face him. He finally said something, something so irrelevant it cringed my skin The dreamer I am, thought finally the movie scene I've been waiting to happen. The moment the guy said, "my biggest mistake was not being with you." And after that, I'd look straight in his eyes and let him know it was right, and I'd kiss him. Everything would be okay because we knew we would have each other, But that's not what happen. He stood out side of my car, Anxious, scared, confused He asked me to borrow a movie. Not just any movie, A movie that we both loved and shared, That whenever we watched it, we thought of each other The movie that brought us together years ago Reading the subtitle of his words I knew he thought he messed up. That day in Decemeber, he lost me A girl that loved him A girl that could never forgive, but never forget The girl that loved that boy, but didn't love her.
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68
' Subtitle ~~ An .. o .. In between 2 ... 0's .... • Which is a pagan symbol of great power <> "" she ( a little girl ) Walks along the dark street between the Evil & the Madness /// LOVERS ( blind only to each other ) Do not see her••• || She walks the dark night and is gone ••• The moon saw But is sworn to silence /// The Poet saw her But Got drunk Passed out & Forgot .
0
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:44 PM UTC
jeffrey-robin
0 o 0
' Subtitle ~~ An .. o .. In between 2 ... 0's .... • Which is a pagan symbol of great power <> "" she ( a little girl ) Walks along the dark street between the Evil & the Madness /// LOVERS ( blind only to each other ) Do not see her••• || She walks the dark night and is gone ••• The moon saw But is sworn to silence /// The Poet saw her But Got drunk Passed out & Forgot .
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30
I think you have to click it twice before the light comes on, the ****** thinks, **** this. a..because he's Irish or b.. because he doesn't like to swear. and though he doesn't like to swear he swears it wasn't him out there looking through the window shade. I clicked it twice and saw the light come on the butler wore a smile and nothing else I expected something else for my penny in the slot, but all I got was that. The Chinese people have got it right subtitle everything the sun the moon the night can't go wrong there, he still swears it wasn't him outside the Dim hung Kowloon inn but the subtitles told a different tale.
0
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
john-edward-smallshaw
Distractions
I think you have to click it twice before the light comes on, the ****** thinks, **** this. a..because he's Irish or b.. because he doesn't like to swear. and though he doesn't like to swear he swears it wasn't him out there looking through the window shade. I clicked it twice and saw the light come on the butler wore a smile and nothing else I expected something else for my penny in the slot, but all I got was that. The Chinese people have got it right subtitle everything the sun the moon the night can't go wrong there, he still swears it wasn't him outside the Dim hung Kowloon inn but the subtitles told a different tale.
Continue reading...
30