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Peter Balkus Aug 2018
When she was crying in my arms,
I licked her teardrop.

It tasted like mine.
Meteo Mar 2017
the ocean is a
teardrop repeating itself,
lessons in breathing
KCibot Jun 24
1st verse:

I know what it's like
To be completely
Incomplete

But I don't completely
Know what it's like
To be with me

But I know it's hard
And you do it well

Yeah I know it's hard
And you do it well

Chorus:

And I can't stop
The tears
From rolling
Down
Your face

But I can
Catch
Them all
Inside
Our Teardrop
Vase

And when the
Tears have
Finally
Stopped

We won't
Have to
Pull out
The mop

We'll just
Go to
Our special place
And see the flowers
In our
Teardrop
Vase

Our
Tear
Drop
Vase

2nd verse (her):

I know that it's harder
Than its ever been
before

I knew it when I saw
You lying curled up
On the floor

And though it's hard
What I've learned

Yeah though it's hard
What I've learned

Chorus
1st verse and 2nd verse
Old song of mine
Feeling relevant
...
Mindy Gledhill
JS CARIE Oct 2018
The left of center
are in north bound throes of a dupe
and can't begin to forecast this wonder of polluted marvel,
in the morrow
my optics discharged in a catastrophic traversal

While whimsy and accidental feels like I've taken pills
a power rain this sobbing has spilled
No longer to be contained based on sheer will

Attacked by neurotic transcending
While sifting through files and photo stacks
Came across multiples of your smiling face
From when I shot you, a couple hundred miles back
No one would dare debase the abundance of your emitted grace

Bloodshot mist eyed and blind from tears
control lost during transport steer
Drips off my cheek pouring down my chest
Could make great sense to don a life vest
Filling up floorboards like a spraying firehose
Shattering cascades diamondize the windows
A single glance at an image turns farmland into rural seaquake
If they interview my lifeless corpse what a headline this will make,
turning tragedy into a foolish mistake
people will curse and laugh
Paved over roads now films unseen
when dusk fuse night from the weep my eyes dispensed
Elements effected by incidents
Rising waves climb over to decimate interstate 65
All over a tiny tear drop and her sweet smiling photograph
Terry O'Leary Dec 2016
My chamber teems with tensions, taut, that logic can’t withstand,
fragmenting mental masonry with memories unplanned,
as bitter tears from hazel eyes reduce the stone to sand.

Dim shadows cast by candles flit across the haunted room,
beleaguer apparitions, pale, that stalk me through the gloom,
usurping purloined purple forms forgotten ghosts assume.

The tick-tock clock of time rewinds within the mirrored hall
and pendula suspended, pause, while creatures creep and crawl
on images of effigies, through memories that maul.

The madness of the midnight mass! Perchance it interferes
with spiders spinning spiral threads which bridge the chandeliers
when weaving minds' discarded coils to silken souvenirs.

Reflections graced the vacant gaze of idols as they fled!
Their futile, feigned, far-flung farewells now hammer in my head,
marooned like frozen silhouettes in footprints of the dead.

My lovers smile through marbled masks before they turn their backs
(like furnace flames deserting ash or phantoms fleeing cracks)
with faded, painted, wrinkled faces nightmares carve in wax.

Sometimes a gust disturbs the dust and secrets reappear,
which dance in silver slippers through the dusk of yesteryear -
it's not the screams that drown my dreams, but whispers which I fear.

The hangman posts a letter home, his message indiscreet
about the vestal ****** in the café (where we meet
to savour tea and crumpets) down a one-way dead-end street.

The rapping and the tapping at my tattered, time-worn door
repeat reports of migrant myths, of tales of nevermore,
strung far across a sullen sea, most shipwrecked near the shore.

Forget-me-nots, enwrapped in rain the while a wan wind blows,
recall the faintly fickle fates this drifter undergoes –
alone, unknown with tracks interred in teardrop undertows.

My feet, no longer tied or tethered, traipse within a squall
pursuing profiles long forsaken, buried in the sprawl
of spectres spread amongst the dead, some tattooed to the wall.

At times, the belfry towers toll of anarchy and gin,
of smoke and mirrors, rolling dice and other things akin,
impaled on forks down byway roads, and things that might-have-been.

The skies outside, beyond the night with shutters shut and drawn,
begin to glow on shattered shapes escaping ’fore the dawn
as clouds undone beneath the sun release this captive pawn.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
I wanted to sneak into
a space down the star
I couldn’t sleep in a night
Huh I was yet to get an
answer to a quiz why!

Though I showed a mirror
The moon floats in the night
gently, the dark could
mingles into the light.
But one couldn’t relay
My sweetie toyed it away!

As if no matter what if one
wishes so is free to sway.
Huh my sweetie toyed it away!

Did the Moon score
tapping in on the starry
night’s blackboard,
how many *****?
Who can tell, who can tell?
Though a cheering sun rises
In the end by the rose.
Myriads stars meltdown
in a stunner’s teardrop.
That stirs coming so close.
Yet is a dwarf over the ocean!

Touches the moon not
one that pulls the most.
The sea lives by the small earth
There is no law in love
My sweetie toyed it away!
AIA Feb 2016
It was the last ache,
It was the last cry,
the last teardrop,
the last love.
It was the last pain that I will feel.
the feeling's gone.
Or so I thought.
I just thought it was the last night that I will feel the pain.
ryn Dec 2014
You are the sky
While I'm of dirt and earth
Sharing the universe in separate realms
Conflicting factions, diverse births

I would forever look up
Rest my gaze on the tide of the air
And dream for our eyes to meet
Temporary eternity that we would share

I've cried many a teardrop
But you can never know
Because to you they never could reach
For into my core they'd only flow

But when you stare down sullenly
Your tears would fall, soaking my plane
I'd drink the drops voraciously
Those gifts of love from heaven's rain

Your tears would nurture the seeds I've planted
They'd take root and flourish in the sun
Resolve in my soil held firmly in place
Thinking our journey forth would've then begun

Roots would give birth to stem
Which in turn, would branch out into leaves
Plantling will eventually grow up high
To give back the love, it constantly receives

Such misfortune little sprout
You can only grow so tall
You can never reach that far
You and I can only kiss the drops that fall

So... My beautiful sky of azure
I am but dust on fate's heavy feet
We can only look to the faraway horizon
Only there could heaven and earth truly meet
Angelsorrow Feb 2017
Look at me
I'm here
Like a snowflake
Passing you by
Like a teardrop
In your eye

Look at me
I'm here
A speck of dust
Floating in mid air
A small fly
Tangled in your hair

Look at me
I'm here
Before your eyes
I won’t be shown
And just like that
You'll be alone
Jack Jenkins Jan 2018
One day at a time
Rain, Sun, falling leaves, frost
They have come and gone
Like love when it resided in this heart
Before suffocating
Bludgeoned by those
Who needed it most
I once loved you
Like I once loved life
But with both
Only shards and embers remain
Lost in every teardrop
One day at a time
//On ex girlfriend//
zumee May 2018
||
If the universe paused in affection
at every blissful death
for every restless life
It would drown inside a teardrop
implode around a frown

no

when She dies
blissfully, from a restless life
and ripples of time are held suspended
along the contours of her smile
It will simply be the universe pausing

for effect.
Grassblade Dec 2015
The spark -
lit in her eyes, the kindle.
A winter teardrop with
the weight of the ocean
soon to be between us.

The winter tear - holds for a moment -
frozen in time's grasp,
inevitably falls
slowly
to the ground.

with every inch

fire, in her eyes, grows.
And to the ground it goes

without a sound

Lost into the dust and dirt
of the cold, callous ground.
Wren
Hecate Nov 2018
perfect human imperfections
the gentle roll of a teardrop
down a sun-beaten cheek
falling from eyes of incomprehensible depth
ocean eyes

endless moments in time
snippets of absolute joy and content
small eternities of a life that's been lived

sleepless nights
early morning hours
of peace
of solitude
a mind, a silent fortress

deep breaths on cold days
stinging lungs
seeping warmth from a hot drink

the slow spread of a smile
the result of a scandalous idea

a wisp of smoke from a house-chimney
conjuring images of a cosy, loving family

all the little things
the little bits of beauty
are what to live for
Donall Dempsey Dec 2017
"...LIFE IS A HORIZONTAL FALL..."
( Hommage à Jean Cocteau )

"Come. . !" said the poem
taking me by the hand

& leading me inside
my self

finding the right words
& binding them together

so that they
became a teardrop

that didn't...couldn't
fall

like a lie
that was the only truth.
"Life is a horizontal fall...the poet is a liar who always speaks the truth...poets don't draw...they unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, bu t. . .
differently!"

"Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk.
It is walking toward me, without hurrying...here I am trying to live, or rather,
I am trying to teach the death within me how to live."|

JEAN COCTEAU
zebra Apr 2017
i'm your o so wanna be lover
I'm afraid not what you would expect though
i admit to being a difficult pleasure
perhaps
a tad strange looking
squishy with long tentacles
half man half octopus
with a winking cycloptic eye

i entreat you
looks can be deceiving
how many pretty boys have you loved
crawling worms for a soul
that have left you a ruined creel
a jagged cry chattering tears of desolation

have you ever asked your self
who adores you
who would give all to protect love and cherish
i'm waving my eight arms at you
from the center of the universe
i eat black holes to kiss your ***
am i not a cosmic horror
with my big Cthulhu smile
quivering with tenderness

do you hunger for butter **** lollypop
i have two big **** heartbreakers
with teardrop curves
a feast for your two ravenous holes of emptiness
and many armed tentacles to hold you tight
to slither all over your tender woven caves
to pull you into me
with suckers that thrill
during swirling inky *****

i will unravel your mind
your soul tilthed
if you can get passed
my
gray rubbery boneless head

i can push this shape-shifting balloon face
through your annul tubular contours
all the way up your beautiful ***
licking
salivating
tickling into your
tender bowel and throat
like a great dancing tongue
a stretched waving goodness
entering your mouth from the back side

can pretty pretty do that?

come slowly unto me my beloved
i am all chromatophores
endless glittering nightlights
incandescent
so we may wander our way through long dim nights ******
in the deep deep dark
with tentacle ***** galore
an infinity of entertainment
for every crevice and desire
and one winking cycloptic eye
that pierces your soul
Evan Stephens Nov 2017
Silver-sided rattle,
a humble streak climbing
the hill in small doses.
Blue teardrop seats,
steel and yellow poles,
broad-eyed windows that offer
the view of things that the subway
will never give.

I've seen fistfights,
a baby born, overdoses,
old women falling asleep,
old men screaming wordlessly,
junkies scrambling for pills
dropped underfoot,
tourists grappling with the geometry
of this unknown language,
all of it.

Vibrating with a menacing stumble,
it attracts everyone. It promises
a view and a destination.
It's better to go through the world
than to sink below it.
Prologue... Voyeurs Notes: Two lovers entwined in the blue black room of the ante meridian (a.m.).


Under a cutting ******* moon
he enters you
You took him in with Pavlovian drooling eyes. He took your innocence and you shrieked in dripping compliance:::
Only that sickle overseer in the night sky bared witness
to the end of my pleasant fiction

Halogen orb
Halcyon days


Left only with the abscess of the apparition
that was “us”
and a
Phantom pain for the never was

Perhaps she is
somewhere
quieted by enormity of it all
Life in fast forward, a fallow future, a vertical victim of his ***** ****

Predawn...
Coldness without catharsis on a cobblestone street  

she is again spread before him,
he’s already tired of her
, and again that ******* fading crescent
watches:::  
she’s wishing for a flashback, a do over,
a dream of sanity before her teardrop salinity (it could’ve been us)

But here I stand eternal
Butchered by your lunar lunacy::: alone
Against the backdrop of a pockmarked sky
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