It’s deeper than that.
It’s deeper than the ocean.
It’s this feeling I can’t bare
My heart thumping so quick

Adrenaline rush when I heard the
Words that you were gone
Altitude is so high I can’t even cry
12 Empire State buildings tall and
I still really couldn’t reach my soul
My emotions overpowering many things
Wishing you were  here

Wishing there was a golden stairway to Heaven I would climb milestones just to hear your voice I wish I could come up home and sit down just to see your reflection and hear your pretty voice.

You’re shining brightly with flashes of light looking like an Angel
I feel your presence
things are unreal
Time is not ours
Forever you will be in my heart.
May you beautiful souls Rest In Peace
Corey May 2016
butterflies* caged by ribs,
a life begging to be lived
red heart beats in time
with the thoughts of my mind

but thoughts can fit through cracks
like the butterflies that are trapped
from mind to lips that part
but not passing through my heart

lips set the butterflies free
along with the feelings inside of me
yet I still feel lost
when I collide with my thoughts

my head is desensitized
perhaps my thoughts are the butterflies
their wings coated with beauty
but they can still come out rudely

although my thoughts are broke
when the words reach my throat
i long to fly too
like the butterflies that broke through

i won't hold my tongue anymore
butterflies free to explore
these thoughts begging to exist
a life begging to be lived
Collab!!!! with Victoria :)
check her out!
http://hellopoetry.com/ultravioletsx/
harlon rivers Jan 2017
...a diary of the falling dominoes chapter

invisibly dying from the inside out
no one is looking into unseen eyes
no one can hear a muted voice fading
no one is close enough to be near

the deafening thrums echo
anxieties’ racing heartbeat
within morphing flesh shell ,
gasping for new breath
in a hovering stale silence

from a distance
the broken mirror ricochets a subdued light ;
much closer the reflection reveals
someone I once knew by heart

now an unrecognizable mask
enshrouds a terminal emptiness
inconspicuous at a fleeting glance ,
impossible to discern what storms rage
from the inside out ,... unnoticed  

an uncontained wildfire
smoldering within,  lies in wait
for the imminent winds of change
to fan the flames into the final
eternal silent ashes

a poet reaches out demurely
offering a candid look
into the window
of the imperfect human soul

there is no poetry
met by indifference
just gathered unread words scribbled,

squandered time
dripped slowly on an empty page ;
moments turn into days
days turned into years

invisibly dying from the inside out
an unfinished life trickles out
like seeping blood evanescing
from a bottomless puncture
wounding ... penetrating the heart,
leaching out the slow death of a poet

for poetry is only words unless they touch someone ...

befallen to indifference is poetic death
by salted paper cuts ...

a muting suffocation
that hiddenly erodes away,
silencing the passion
of a musing soul
one unread word at a time ...


© harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
it is an enigma how poetry evolves in meaning over time ―
like a self-fulfilled prophecy, some become transformational, some become new beginnings or some become a finality of a metamorphosis of peaceful endings or deleted attempts at understanding the misunderstood...

... all to be determined and allowed to let be

― THE END  ―
grace snoddy Feb 25
i stand in a graveyard.
i see, though i am blinded by the past.
i see millions of tombstones surrounding me,
each one has words i dare not read.
i am scared,
and i am alone.
though i am not alone, there are ghosts who hold faces that are familiar around me.
they tell me that the light shall come soon.
they promise me this.
i do not believe them,
i have been fooled too many times.
and as i walk throughout this graveyard i come to a realization;
no matter how many ghosts stand by my side,
i am the only one who is of real flesh and bone.
who stands above the ground and not beneath it.
i cannot come to terms if this is good or not.
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