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Stella Dec 2018
If you don't say something now,
It's not going to be alright anymore.
  May 2018 Stella
rained-on parade
You wanted a love like in the movies;
rain drenched white shirts, palms covered
in daisy pollen; I love you more than--
a phone call, long distance, your fingers
curling the telephone wire like you're pulling me
towards you
like a fibre optic pheromone.
Soundtracks of a jazz piano, and old jukebox hits,
flared skirts and Mary Jane shoes, square dancing.

But most of the time, we don't get to choose
the colour of the bedsheets. In this story,
I know you're going to leave me. I can sense
the zoom of your eyes, rolling away from me.
The lighting in the room, like the ones where something
awful is about to happen: a sad, sick orange
like a cheap sunset; the music, or lack thereof,
the way you bite your lip like you're about to
break my heart.

You look to the ground, and I know this is where
the narration will start;

this is the story of the first time
someone broke my heart.  
She's going to look up at me
and say the words,
It's all over-


and in a jump frame
the thunderclap will mask the sound
of my heart shattering, the sob disappearing
into my throat.

You wanted a love like in the movies,
honey,
we all did.

But then the rain came, and the flowers
drowned in their beds.
You left your umbrella by the doorstep,
I hope you don't catch a cold.
I'm not sure why.
Stella Mar 2017
In the end, you never came home.
I sat by the door with my arms turning
to dust aching for you to return.
You left the kettle on
and I drowned myself in it.
Chamomile, Earl Grey, Lemon, English
who cares what the sachet says
as long as it's hot and burning
my tongue because every little pain
is a pain I've to endure.
It takes my mind off you.
Stella Dec 2016
May today be peaceful
and charming
and love find its way to you
Bringing happiness like a friend
along with it.
Merry Xmas everyone.
  Nov 2016 Stella
rained-on parade
Why do you take beautiful things
and turn them into instruments
of sadness?
I.
Every winter
I become an answering machine
of unread messages.

II.
Why does it take so long
for me to remember that
the other side of the bed has been colder
for years?

III.
This sadness will last forever.
Stella Aug 2016
There are so many places on Earth
where no human has ever been to.
Untouched, unscathed,
unseen.

Just like your heart.
  Jul 2016 Stella
rained-on parade
This is where the heart lies:
softly in the hands of rhyme
and meter; we've made a shrine
out of syntax and code.
We tell stories and we sing songs
about life and love, and this
is where some of us grow up,
this is where some of us die a little
each day.

This is our home, not your playground,
so keep your fights
out of here.
I'm not a part of this problem going around in Hello Poetry these days. I've not been approached, nor participated in this yelling, and abusing.

I'm not taking any sides, nor am I declaring any one's fault.

I think it's about time the front page has something positive.

Hello Poetry is a sanctuary for hundreds of people. Many of us have been here for years. And if you got problems, just leave. You don't have to tolerate, or spit abuse. Don't support or promote cyber-bullying.

Just leave.

Stop dirtying this place with your **** graffiti.
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