LostHeartbreak doesn't have to be screamingLost6 hours ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
in the darkness, in your bedroom.
It can be when the fresh smell of tea
(earl grey, hot)
in the morning
makes you unsure what to do
with your hands.
judeon these bittersweet mays,jude51 minutes ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
mild and warm
he imagines music on her lips
through which her poison passed.
kisses on her wrists,
from which the blades drew breath--
but he would not be one to love her,
they both had known.
too fickle a storm, he always said,
but not the may they lay her down
in the tomb in which she rests.
Dear Someone, Sincerely No OneDear Someone,Dear Someone, Sincerely No One9 hours ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You probably don't know who I am.
Just know I'm a grain of sand underneath your feet.
You know me, dear Someone.
I'm that person that wishes too much; that dreams too big.
I'm that person who says she hates this and that, when in reality, the thing I hate is myself for caring about you too much.
Perhaps you know me better as No One.
Now do you remember?
That student you gave up on?
That friend that would give you the moon and the stars if she could?
That shivering creature huddled in the dark that you ignored like the plague in December?
Yup... That's me.
I do not wish for your guilt; your shame.
I don't want you to say you're sorry or pray for forgiveness to whatever God you have.
I want you to realize that our heart beats are the same, even if I am filth compared to you.
I know you have better things to do than listen to an old stair or the crackling of a dead leaf.
I know I am nothing but an annoying crow to you.
I know... I know... I am noth
AthenaI am Athena.Athena1 day ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Born of the King’s screeching cranium.
I sit here to contemplate my fate,
As builder of rockets and death,
Architect of life.
Or so I tell myself.
Wrap my arms a little tighter to my sides.
Pull my sleeves a little further down my arms.
Hope words don’t show through,
Thick and hairy hands grasp at plume,
To tear it off.
It is glued with bonds of time.
Of days speaking lies
Holding on the paper smile
Telling them I am the Orpheus they see.
But of what use is paper to me?
I can’t build a body of paper,
Let alone a life.
So I sit in the shower
And recite my new name over and over.
“Hi, I’m Athena. Nice to meet you.”
I can’t say it aloud,
Reconcile me and the world.
Thus plunge myself deeper into the web.
You have your revenge
For I am beaten by my own mind.
I no longer have words say,
They catch in my throat.
I sit through hours with nothing to show
Except red letters on my arm.
Speak to me now,
elenashe writes in blood on linen presselena4 hours ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
at eventide by candlelight.
burgundy blisters on her ivory dress,
her fingers rattle,
her face all paled white.
"i loved you," desperate letters trail,
hanging their heads like a lovers' last fight--
o, here she watches the now-night sea,
and drops the untidy plume.
they found her by dawn's sickly light
dead, inside her room.