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Brandon Jun 2012
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The point is
To always write
Even if it's nonsense
Triston Wareing Jun 2016
I want 12 o clock udf trips

I want to wake up next to you at 6 in the morning to simply give you a kiss and go to work

Because in America. After love, the only thing we have to sit on are the blue collar workers fighting the good fight to give us the freedom to love

I want your hand in mine,
But never touching wrist. Because you said you are afraid of our veins popping out.
But I'm afraid that if they do they will tie in knots and I won't be able to let go

You are stuck in a lump of post fling relationships that hold you back from tying  your veins into mine

From letting the tips of our hair connect in a patch of daises on the cold ashy ground of a meadow in woods of fallen comrades

Because although most wars are fought with guns

The good ones are fought with words.

I need our love to stand true and not fall through because I'm running out of puppy dog nicknames for random girls that always fall short of grasping my heart the way you did.

Your grasp is an iron maiden that caught hold two years ago

At times I feel it dies to the torture of the cold metal spike

But for that there are plenty of cold peanut butter milkshakes with chocolate milk, because white milk is just to normal for someone as abnormal as you

But I do understand there is a lot holding you back.
There is a man fighting a war that has no purpose being behind enemy lines
And if I have learned something in my many years. I support the brave troops. But I cannot support the wars for a materialistic freedom driven by oil consumption and corporate *******

I love you Because you are much like an American flag. Though we have been burned so many times. Even on fire we are a symbol of beautiful freedom that struck me in my childhood and that will carry through my soul for the rest of my days

If you love something set it free.
But you are already a beautiful fire flapping your opinion in the wind
Telling me when I'm being unreasonable or quite frankly a bit of a sarcastic *******

But I cant be upset at you
I've given you more reasons then one to not put your faith in me,
Anytime things get rough or I'm afraid of hurting you. I distance myself

But I will never forget the time you told me it hurts you more when I leave
Because I forced myself to choke back tears from the pain of tearing my arms away from you

My last words will not be as meaningful as Che Guevara
They will not be as ironic as tom Ketchum
They will not be as dark as Edgar Allen Poe
But they will mean something
Even though they have been said so many times
It will be simply this
I love you
Paige Jul 2015
I can't say I remember the first
time we met.
Because we were both just passing
through.
But I do remember the first
time I remembered you.
It was a week before my 18th
birthday and we all jammed into
my sisters tiny 4 door
Corsica.
It was you, me, my sister,
Josh and Cameryn.
We made these plans the day before.
I was sitting in the middle,
in the back seat and you were
on my left.
You were so opposite of what
everyone said you were.
You were funny, but reserved,
we kept sharing cigarettes,
and you'd throw the butts
out of the window.
You were smoking L&M;
Turkish blend.
I, of course, Camels.
You and josh opened the back doors,
as the car was moving and
pretended you were going
to fall out.
You were crazy.
And exciting.
We went to the head shop in
Oxford and you made little jokes
at me because I wasn't old enough
yet to look at the bowls.
You bought some cigars and
a wooden pipe
and started smoking from both.
We all had ice cream at the UDF,
before we headed back,
passing packed bowls back and forth
around the car.
That was the first time I felt
that feeling around you.
That day.
When we took you home that night,
all I wanted to do was gush to
my sister about how great you were.
But I didn't.
I just couldn't stop telling
myself instead.
Chameleon Mar 2020
I try to enjoy every moment I can,
even the ones that get under my skin
because it’s for the last time.
Hauling our ***** clothes to the laundromat,
and struggling to find an open washer.
Getting a beer at Wings while we wait.
Going to our favorite pizza place for the 200th time;
hold the mushroom add bacon.
And then stopping at UDF for a scoop of
cotton candy ice cream.
The fight to get him to wake up to his alarm the first time it goes off, even though it usually takes an hour.
Every hug I hold for a second longer.
I don’t let go of his hand in the car.
I have cried to him and wished I could go back in time, I’d do everything differently so we would’ve lasted forever... somehow.
He said it wasn’t me, I was his favorite girl but everything comes to an end eventually.
And now is that time.

— The End —