Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
armon Dec 2013
Do I relate to the post-postmodern
True-life voodoo incomes are hard-earned
If I put a hyphen between words
Does that spawn a new one like lovebirds

Isn't love the same word that I saw
Don't crows live like bandits and outlaws
Don't they have the outlook of bourgeois
Carry stolen crackers in their claws

There's no change that I couldn't change
Every change that I change always stays the same
I wanna sing with a slingshot serenade
I wanna donate change to a masquerade

I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height

So give me all your red green yellow blue
If you can find a pool then I'll refract with you
You're a mirage and your favorite color's see-through
You're my fata morgana from this point of view

Are there any words for my freakshow feelings
Isn't sugarcoated terminology appealing
Wouldn't it be easier to represent the meaning
Of a hard to swallow concept with an arbitrary ceiling

Cryptic cultish crease in the catalog
Paranoia backtrack to analog
I can run much faster than I can jog
Magic circle summoning Chernobog

I can break the barrier of sound and space
With these essential elemental explanations in your face
But it doesn't matter everything I say will go to waste
Because the power of the mind is putting power out of place

Hindsight reflecting, teenagers texting
Late to the punch with the big money flexing
Let's settle this with a match in the ring
Or a match to the rope of a cannon firing

I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height
I wanna hypnotize and paralyze
I wanna make them think that I'm their size
I wanna break their spirits drink their blood
I wanna **** their souls I wanna **** them good
lina S May 2013
took a step into a crowd

felt a wave through the ground

as she lost her friends

with the beat and the sound

then the mad man pulled her by her hand

into another land

spoke the words of youth

gave her an option to choose

leave the confusion and the blues

he said with his eyes fire waiting to set loose

burn her alive with the madness

that's what she choose

the fast cars and the clothes

she told him light my way

take the wheel

cause I've been driving for so long

and my vision is unclear

take my hand indulge my innocence

so he drove her over the clouds

wrapped her in metals of distance

twisted her existence

swirled her in a galaxy of imagination

her own heaven in creation

till one day his heart changed

as he pushed her down the stairs of heaven

and broke her every bone

the ground was cold hard stone

she was left twisted broken and all alone

reaching for a phone but there's no connection

in the black hole of confusion

time passed as she painted every perception expected

hoping to find a solution

that's when she realized it was all an illusion

the words the thrill the charm

she was about to burst but she just stayed calm

as she reached out but there was no arm

so she got herself up and walked into the hazy clouds

she had strength in herself but she also had doubts

then she heard a voice so sweet and tender

he said lead your own way and never surrender
Remember, that chaos first was a primordial deity,
Chaos; the nothingness from which all else sprang
headfirst and heartfelt,
half-naked and handsome,
hook, line and... halibut.

All of this,
every measurable moment,
every particle,
every object set forth in motion
sprang from a void so harmoniously
as if the absence of everything was kissed
sudden
by the presence of something.

Often depicted with wings, a bow, and a quiver of arrows,
Cupid, son of Venus - goddess of love,
son of Mercury - god of trade,
his story,
almost identical in Greek and in Roman
mythology,
his story, about a couple of gods
who seem so inherently human by nature,
jolted by jealousy,
dumbstruck by beauty,
hellbent on immortality,
his story has been hallmarked
as red hot velvet rose petal fine wine
and symmetrical hearts.
Wrapped in tin foil red ribbons
bitter-sweetly sugarcoated
dipped in thin layer of chocolate
taste-tested and lover approved.

Remember that scene in Hook
where Tinkerbell leaves her footprints on Peter's chest,
well that's you and that's me--
touch me where my heart beats
because I don't ever wanna be a lost boy.
I wanna grow up like a good bedtime story
with morals
and purpose,
I wanna have meaning.

You might say that Cupid found himself.
You might say that Psyche found her soul.
You might say that Tinkerbell was just faking it--
with the clapping.
Truth is, we can never know the whole story--
the complete truth.
Problem is, we think we can
and act like we do.
So the only time we mean what we say
is the first time we say it,
every utterance thereafter is just an attempt
at recreating a moment.

I love you
is a paraphrase
that deserves three separate ellipses
because there's a lot left unsaid.

I (distinctively remember shadow-boxing with)
love (against a star-dotted sky anchored to a
moonlight so vibrant it can only be compared to)
you (and your tidal waves).

And that's where I fell
headfirst and handsome.

I (was punched-drunk by a kiss so breathless
that it spiked my dopamine to a volume
that can only be described as) love
(in that every time my neurotransmitters feel) you
(they spin themselves dizzy and dance to your science).

There was a moment in the absence of everything
when I was kissed silent by the presence of something.

Hold me to your breastplate.

I don't ever wanna go back to the void.



*02/09/2010
mk Aug 2015
because in the end
they all want sugarcoated lies
over the bitter **truth
// i don't need to know you'll be there, you're not on my mind. i don't need to know you care, please don't waste my time //
Vince Tanaka Oct 2017
You needed me, those sweet soft words that you always say. There is no cure for heartbreak, no love left for the lost soul wondering how they will live in a sugarcoated world.

How can I make things better? if every time I try it makes our gap bigger, considering the fact that I'm not good enough for you that I cannot hold you again and feel the warmth of your hand.

I wish I only had some warmth, enough to keep me from getting cold and needing someone else to hold.
I wish you didn't have to leave. Reminiscing those moments in my mind, flashbacks of a kind,  from a time where you and I were perfectly imperfect and I can still hold your hand in mine.

Nobody understands someone who might have a lot going on; who might be hopelessly dying inside.
People tend to promise to give the truth but sugarcoat you with lies.

I never knew how bad love could actually be. How love could be the best thing yet your love was a beautiful catastrophe that left my heart in pieces.
Michelle Nov 2016
"It's not you, it's me.
If I could, you know I'd stay.
We're young,
I'm dumb.
You deserve so much more"
And then you walked out the door.

"Let's give each other space
And then maybe be friends"
But we both already know
how that's going to end.

"Promise you'll be okay,
I know that you will,
It just doesn't seem it today"
You fed me every cliche that you thought I deserved,
But *"I don't love you anymore"
was all that I heard.
I’ve exhausted to excess
the language
of the social construction
of whiteness
which is simulataneously
sugarcoating
the goodness of blackness
with the evil of pure white
the missionary of evil
*** death triangle reruns
on West Indies news
origin of criminality
putrid impunity
dissociative disorder
and the villain
to a great great hero
called the blackness
of humanity
which is inexhaustible
strength
laughter
and kindness
oceans
mercy
severity
beauty
love
***
origins
stability
shores
and sustainability
Chaos first was a primordial deity.

And I'm Ralph Wiggum on Valentine's Day.
Even if every girl in class gave me a card.
I still go home feeling less like Romeo.
Lying awake trying to make sense of
why their sugar just didn't taste so sweet .

Lying in bed like a nebula
waiting for all my stars to form.

Chaos
--the nothingness from which all else sprang
headfirst and heartfelt,
half-naked and handsome,
hook, line, and
halibut.

All of this.
Every measurable aspect of
every particle that makes up
every object set forth in motion
sprang from a void so harmoniously
as if the absence of everything was kissed
sudden
by the presence of something.

Often depicted with wings,
a bow, and a quiver of arrows--
Cupid
son of Venus--goddess of love
son of Mercury--god of trade
his story
almost identical in Greek and Roman
mythology.
His story about a couple of gods
so inherently human by nature
jolted by jealousy
dumbstruck by beauty
hellbent on immortality.

His story has been hallmarked
as red hot velvet rose petal fine wine
and symmetrical hearts
wrapped in tin foil red ribbons
bitter-sweetly sugarcoated
dipped in thin layer of chocolate
taste-tested and lover approved.

Remember that scene in Hook
where Tinkerbell leaves her footprints on Peter's chest?
Well that's you and that's me--
touch me where my heart beats
because I don't ever wanna be a lost boy.
I wanna grow up like a good bedtime story
with morals
and purpose.
I wanna have meaning.

You might say that Cupid found himself.
You might say that Psyche found her soul.
You might say that Tinkerbell was just faking it--
with the clapping.
Truth is
we can never know the whole story.
Problem is
we think we can
and act like we do.
So the only time we mean what we say
is the first time we say it.
Every utterance thereafter is just an attempt
at recreation.

I love you
is a paraphrase
that deserves three separate ellipses
because there's a lot left unsaid.

I (distinctively remember shadow-boxing with)
love (against a star-dotted sky anchored to a
moonlight so vibrant it can only be compared to)
you (and your tidal waves).

And that's where I fell
headfirst and handsome.

I (was punched-drunk by a kiss so breathless
that it spiked my dopamine to a volume
that can only be described as) love
(in that every time my nerve endings feel) you
(they spin themselves dizzy and dance to your science).

There was a moment
in the absence of everything
when I was kissed silent
by the presence of something.

Hold me to your breastplate.

I don't ever wanna go back to the void.



[2/09/10 - Revised 2/14/14]
Sharina Saad May 2013
A loud cheer from a huge crowd
Anxiously waiting for their idol
listen to words of promise
An aspiring Future leader
Charismatic and strong
Loved by many hated by many
Singing his manifestos
Some agrees some are doubtful
Music to the ears... real sweet..
If only he did not sugar coat everything
He might have won....
There goes one charismatic leader
All talks but no action....
You are that warm and cozy feeling
that rests beneath my lips.
You are the winter time chills
You are a metaphor for beautiful.
In every sense of the word.
Heather Sarrazin Dec 2013
Love isn't a word
I throw around foolishly
Simply because I've been denied the opportunity
Of being held , filled with the possibilities
That one touch can carry
A simple caress
That serves as if to say
You're perfect
I wouldn't want you any other way
No such touches have came in my direction
Causing me to pick apart my reflection
Imperfections, one after the other
Become apparent
Because of one thing that was said
Even if I wasn't supposed to hear it - I did
and those words?
they haunt me

I'm sorry I don't believe it when you say you love me

My head pounds and my knees start to tremble  
As a precaution I ignore whatever
It is I'm feeling, burying it so deep
It'll need a shovel
and a rope to emerge
You think it's unbelievable the extent I go to so I won't be hurt
I think it's unbelievable that you claim to know my worth
When I'm not sure myself
Fearing you're just one more of many
Attempting
To take advantage
Of the self image I posses that's in shambles

I'm sorry I can't believe your compliments

Those sweet words you say with honesty
sincerity, unquestionable truth
A rarity in itself, especially coming from you
Inside me there's a girl smiling  
Next to the one crying,
bruised from years of being used
poisoned with sugarcoated  I love you's
And promises made
With fingers crossed

I'm sorry I don't believe I'm enough

I look in the mirror and I hate what I see
Automatically I think of other girls and the joy they may bring to your life
While I sit happily alone
And I know
I can't possibly love you if I don't love myself
I meant it when I said it wasn't you, it was me
Victoria Rose Mar 2014
self destruction like burning bridges you know full well you'll drown without
being reckless with your rafts and your lifesavers
and feeling the heat of the fire prickle your forehead,
beads of sweat teasing your skin
and making it impossible to ignore the deep water already lapping at your feet,
clearly prepared to completely engulf you in liquid darkness.

self destruction like inhaling the fumes of a hundred toxic promises,
made to you by old would-be lovers;
sugarcoated words and lies roughly covered in white,
feeling the poison seizing up your struggling lungs,
fingertips flicking through dictionaries with cracked spines:
desperate to find a word that isn't even there.

self destruction like breaking hearts that aren't yours for once,
just to hold the power of corruption and allow it to make you bloodthirsty,
much like slaughtering ants beneath magnifying glasses,
watching them struggle and turn to unrecognisable ashes,
whimpering half hearted apologies whilst trying to convince yourself
that you are not a bad person, but simply a broken soul.
Joshua Haines Apr 2014
That's not a God, that's a sense of entitlement
A sugarcoated dishevelment in disguise
You don't have dreams, just infatuations
Turning hope into self-indulgent lies

I turned away from New York just to know you
Silver showered soldiers singing serene
I turned away from myself just to love you
But I don't think you know what love means

You're not alone, just afraid of isolation
Afraid no one will be better than me
I'm not that great, I say without hesitation
Someone will love you more, just wait and see

My opinion of you changes like the skyline
A star among the cascading dark
Baby, don't let yourself flame out
Before the rest of your fire starts
Liv Jun 2013
Diamond beads roll off my skin
Sweaty hands and age old gin
Sunshine pupils in candy eyes,
Crying gumdrops and sugarcoated lies.
Raindrops on my fingertips
Poison blood on broken lips
Black and blue painted thick
Cheeks flushed red; a simple trick
**** yourself but stay alive
On your rotting soul they'll thrive.
The shadows of forgotten thoughts,
Who rap themselves around your heart
And suffocate the breath you wished was gone
Turned my sunshine into war

I don't feel better anymore.
Paramount Pawn Dec 2015
Words that could bring fruits
And words that could bring poison
What kind of poison have I brought to you
They were sugarcoated poisons that sought to be fruits
Kept feeding you on this
However clueless can you be
You've grown fat with all this sugar
You took surprise and anger when you found out
I laughed at how long it took
Now you're dying from the poison
And the fruits lay near rotting
Michelle Garcia Nov 2014
There once lived a girl
Barely even three
Who wore childish, innocent smiles
And ran around freely.
She spent summer with her sister
Picking lilac flowers,
Rolling down grassy hills
Endless fun for hours.

There once lived a girl
Finally thirteen
Who wore gloss on her lips
And said things she didn’t mean.
She spent summer all alone
Never picking any flowers
Claiming she had better things to do
With her endless summer hours.

There once lived a girl
Sixteen, impossibly thin
Who painted scarlet on her wrists
Because she could never ever win.
She spent summer locked away
Bawling in her room for hours
And there was nothing in the world she wanted
More than lilac flowers.

There once was a girl
Who tried so hard in life
But she couldn’t bear to live
With her sugarcoated strife
And one day she just vanished
So her sister cried for hours
And upon her solemn grave
She laid withering lilac flowers.
Robson Guy Sep 2015
I chase these ideals...
These versions of my life that don't exist,
They just become tormenting fantasies,
Sometimes, destroying everything I love in the process...
I begin to analyze the concept of what's "deserved,"
Deserved by whom?
Who's the authority?
The sky's the limit?
Not when you're shackled to the ground, shackled by the wake of your past,
You can't escape your shadows,
Lost in mistake after mistake,
Like a stone of scar tissue,
There's nothing left to wound,
Which exit did I miss?
Maybe I should have gotten off this road a long time ago,
What went wrong?
What went right?
Love, family, life, dreams...
This game full of tricks, fools, dogs, and thieves,
Blessed or cursed,
It's all this relative facade,
Romanticizations and fairytales,
You've got yours and I've got mine,
A nonsensical masquerade,
Wrapped in oblivion,
By dawn, the masks come off,
No one's dancing,  
And we're left standing naked with our truths, our choices, and our pain,
Daily reminders all around,
Everything is dulled,
A shimmering lackluster,
Sensations numbed,
Spare me sensationalization,
Please don't offer me prescriptions,
Don't offer me subscriptions,
They don't disguise the lies,
They don't smooth out the wrinkles of the sweet, euphemistically, sugarcoated descriptions of what is and what will never be...

Clandestine connections,
Undeniable, as we spiral through this network of intimate caves...
Slipped into a hole years ago,
Never seemed to crawl out..
A semi-abstract moment of self-reflection. Take from it what you will.
Detha P Mar 2016
Some say she’s a maverick. She refuses to play by the rule, she’d rather create her own rule. Not that much of a rebel, just a bit free-spirited by heart.

Some say she’s a square peg in a round hole. A black dress amidst a wedding party. Ripped jeans among trousers. A pair of sneakers among pairs of high heels. A cup of tequila between white wines. But really, she’s only a misfit. She has always been one. An unorthodox individual living in a world where people must be the same in order to be freed of scrutiny. She isn’t afraid to cross the line of conformity. Even ever since she was little, she has always frowned upon the game of pretentious act that people around her have been playing. She often finds herself in question, for she is non-adhering to the idea of being a sheep flocking to the herd.

Some say she’s the epitome of late night shots taken by the distressed. Not as the last, desperate resort, but as the first aid.

Some say she’s the embodiment of the bitter aftertaste when you sip a cup of coffee that you got from a store stood on the roadside during your impromptu midnight road trip. She shows up by chance, looking plain as ever. But really, she’s a mild surprise once she gets her way into you. One that you might not expect.

Some say she’s a thorn wire disguised in vineyard. It isn’t quite easy to strip away of her self-defense. But once she’s provoked, she’s provoked.

Some say she’s a train wreck. And boy, weren’t they right. Her life might be a mess, but it is one hell of a beautiful mess she’s proudly living. If anything, she has mastered the art of living in perpetual, concomitant tragedies.

Some say she’s more of a goodbye than a hello. A bittersweet memory than a sugarcoated present. She’s never one of a dreamer, but she puts her hopes in the beauty of imperfections – of the feeling of loss. Experience has taught her not to make people her happiness, for they are but a fleeting moment of enchantment.
Ilva Mar 2012
I wrote a poem for you
The day before I met you

When I didn’t yet know a soul can be shipwrecked
Or that the sun can have secrets
When I hadn’t yet learned to look for symptoms
Or dreamed you could become my weakness

You entered me like a sickness
From your first ‘hello’
You whispered my world red
And smiled it yellow

You came to me; a sonnet
A decorated soldier
Dressed in sentences and statements
With which to catch a schoolgirl
In succulent surprise

Your eyes kissed me
Long before your lips did
And under the spectrum of your splendor
My heart bloomed a blushing orchid

I was a slave to my sweet-tooth
You, a dulcit daydream
That knew just how to turn me
From still life into story
And in so doing, you cast me -
A shapeless statue -
Into your private purgatory

You created a planet
With just us living on it
And a snakepit, a sinkhole
With which to swallow me whole

I wrote this poem for you
The day after I met you
I thought it worth to mention
Why I started to regret you

So please pay close attention
(As I’m trying to forget you):

My innocence
Though far from inner sense
Was no less common
Than the unoriginality
Of your sugarcoated sin
kaye Dec 2014
She swallowed love like it was poison, fully aware of what she was doing but then spit it out the moment it reached her throat. She felt its presence like a hardened clump on the back of her mouth, fighting it back with her tongue wrapped with barbed wires but she felt herself bleed long before she could even scratch its surface. Tears started spilling out her eyes as she looked at your brown ones and no matter how hard she tried to explain, she can't put into words how such a muddy color can be so bright -- it could outshine the stars.

The moment her hand enveloped yours she didn't understand how this ******* electric current could be interpreted as romantic. She never liked cliches but she forgot that when you took your clothes off and she ran her hands through your hair and finally thought that maybe, maybe this was something real. She didn't know life outside this box -- she didn't know there was a box until she felt herself becoming so small, shrinking in your presence every single time. It used to be about both of you but now its only about you and she was never one to complain about exploring every inch of your skin with her mouth but this time it was different. The fire in your eyes looked too warm to be comfortable in anymore and the spark you both used to have turned into an inferno that began to burn its way into her veins and that your words cut deeper through her than sharpened knives and your promises were nothing but sugarcoated threats and curses and she knew it would **** her and that this thing everyone fussed about was nothing but poison but ******* it, she'd swallow it if it tasted like you.
Diana Dec 2018
Look me in the eyes
Speak of sugarcoated lies
It will be then when I realize
That you and I were meant to die
Katie Jul 2015
this is a love letter not a goodbye.....
it has been a year since our argument
and so much has changed.
maybe it's because we are on different sides of the revolving earth
or maybe it's because you  just don't care any longer.
but i thought i'd take the time and write you this;
i still love you.
and i’m sorry my last letter made you feel nothing
and i’m sorry that i had to leave and i never tried again.
this past year i’ve been thinking about us, you;
where we went wrong
and where we didn’t.
and i guess i still don’t have anwser; all i know is that you gave up on me quicker than i gave up on you.
i hope next summer when i visit we can finally close the wound
because to me it doesn’t feel like it’s been bandaged, only sugarcoated…
but i guess that’s what we do for love.
when i picture my life, still at home,  
i picture you and i;
and what we would have done together.
everyone says we would have gotten together; they couldn’t guess for how long; but they knew.
and mum says i would have taken you to my dance and we would have laughed, kissed and made terrible jokes and pulled pranks on people we didn’t even know.
i heard you’ve been hanging out with the wrong people;
i always knew that would happen.
and it pains and disgusts me that you’re throwing away your life;
i want to fix it so badly
but i don’t think i can from my dim lit desk halfway around the world.
when we’ve talked breifly;
i try to make your life a living hell
so you know what it feels like.
but then i remember that you just don’t care.
and when i asked if you remember what happened that cold july night;
you respond
‘no, i just don’t care.’
and why would i want to be with someone like that anyway?
my last letter was confusing,
i admit.
i was angry and upset and i just wanted you to love me.
but i’ve learned now that you can’t make people love you.
and i’ve learned that if you really want to say something…

...say it…
please read 'for eliot,' before reading this!
Mark Rubilla Oct 2012
Oh connections
Where are your strength?
Strength within your legs
The red has past you by
The skin is now as thirsty
As the profound wasteland
The water is going up
And the hands are open wide
But the errors are finally seen
Broadcast in the cloud of the watchers
You cant hold the liquid in your  hands
Make up your mind folks
Wasting time and efforts
This is a sugarcoated reality
That you dreamed of for years
Typically your thinking big thoughts
Addressing the book in most faces
Now wake up oh shallow minds
The pain is waiting as you open the door
Leave your ocean size possession
Repent or perish
© M.B Rubilla 2010
Brendan Watch Jan 2014
Scars are fireworks.
They dance like breaths,
breath, pause, breath, pause.
Breathing is a cry for help.
You brushed my forehead with your fingertips
like wind and smiles and time
and what kisses are supposed to be.
Like time, time, time,
memory typewriters tick and tock.
They sound like footsteps,
like pallbearers and raindrops
and heartbeats and whispers and
time and time and time and time.

Scars are like spiderwebs
and patterns in half-full coffee mugs
and scales that shield, that measure.
and they're like empty stairs
and definitions the textbook wouldn't accept.

Scars are dreams.
A skirt and skin and whatever else that implies.
Scars are consensual, like sugarcoated suicides.
Scars are bodies.
Bend them, break them,
cracked contortionists.
Watch stardust pours from eyes
and arcing, narrow roads.
abstract endings assaulting

     pedestrian beginnings,

save yourself before

    you're too late

    for your own game,

choking on bourgeois

  mind-control  interludes

under a spell of

    plebeian sugarcoated reality

  whitewashed with

   iridescent rainbow colors

     and unicorn attitudes,

come out, come out

  wherever you are

    from behind

    those glossed over walls

     and blush-fogged glasses,

jack and jill weren't

   fetching at all,

he royally ******* her

   on the way down,

there's a world beyond

   blanched veneers

      and vanilla excuses

    concealed in resolute

       conventional facade's

           of vindication
Emily Galvin Aug 2016
I've been here before
Listened to your feet crunch the shards of glass and shattered hearts
Wiping the remnants of liquor and bitterness from liar's lips
As your night of sugarcoated revelry comes to an end 
The facade falls
Cracks
Echoing with the slam of a shotglass that pulses through ears
And thumps through my brain with your sneer of rejection
Your eyes don't shy from mine
But they are discolored with arrogance
Hardened by vanity
As cold and empty as the bottle that sweats against my palm
If I close my own
I could reach for a memory of the past
For a sunbeam's reflection highlighting the contours of your skin
Or the childish purity in unquestioned belief
But tonight, they will stay locked 
I will watch the candied venom drip from your curling lips, drawing me back under a veil of falsity
And see us for what we really are
I am no longer the same.
I won't be your entertainment
Your distraction
Your pastime or plaything
The show is over.
I've been here before 
But this is the last time I'll come back.
Sharina Saad Jan 2015
The image of you is vague
Everything you says
Everything you claim
I doubt them
You are not a real person
You are just a vision
You are an idea in my thought
Perhaps my illusion...
Fell for your charms
Sugarcoated words
Unrealistic expectations...
You are not even human
You are...
What you are ...
Is only virtual....
Galbraith Frase Nov 2017
Peace of mind,
Let it grind,
Huffing through my sentiments,
No words left behind

You said you're fathomless,
A riddle and meaningful,
High objections, genuine rejections
How come you make me stutter like a fool?

I want my poems to bit,
Vigorous and keen to have teeth,
So the venom in each letter shall sink in---
To your skin, may heap

You said you're logic
Then where's your common sense?
Clearly, you're imperceptive,
Because I know how you're tensed

Attempting to toss me a bullet of pressure,
Locating the verge of anxiety
You're none of the amenable people,
Who would understand and know its variety

Sugarcoated scars and deep comprehension
Thin head's blurry, that's why you have complications
No offense though---

Keep your mouth on line, you half presented amateur
Go ahead and be conceited like an apathetic's chimes
But honestly, at all, you don't even have a
Peace of mind
Glorious, glorious, glorious, glorious to finally post this. A little voice of rancor could do the thing *flips hair clumsily*.
Ananya zootz Jun 2015
Click.
Arms around with a profound smile
Pearl teeth reflecting happytimes
Click
Blanketed now,anchored to my bed
Alone and this time no shine

Clear like blue cotton sky your eyes
Perfect like truth your smile
Temptation of your sugarcoated words
Marshmallow soft full your lips
How could have I simply be in a corner?
And resist myself to not touch
What I loved , you.

Like the new morning glory
Your candle lit up face brightened me
The whispered words buttered me
Like the softness of peach
Your fluttering touch melted me
Like a burning wax

Barging through the air
Whipped the breath out of me
Call me I wished you could save me
Your hair brought the shade of sweetness
How could I have simply be in a corner?
And resist myself not to do the only thing
I do? Love you.

Though you are cold in earth
And sky cries with screams and tears
Its me who feels sick
Graved alive.
Why.
Poetria Aug 2016
Summer nostalgia
surfacing like sweat.
We try not to remember,
but how could we forget?
regrets...

Our thick skins blistering,
disguises wearing thin.
Book bindings we try
to hide behind-
you're missing...

Making shallow conversation
though our friendships are forsaken;
Dripping sugarcoated lies
and sunkissed goodbyes.
*goodbye...
High school vibes, or nah?

— The End —