Six Senses.I can feel your presence,Six Senses.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the air,
In each crystal of ice,
That form from frozen words.
I can smell your presence,
In the atmosphere,
In each drop of rain,
That pours with reverence.
I can hear your presence,
In the trees
In each falling leaf,
That flies like angel wings.
I can see your presence,
In each of my veins,
In rivers of cerulean blood,
That flow beneath my skin.
I can taste your presence,
In the salty ocean air,
In each fragile mist,
That caresses my aging face.
I can find your presence,
In every place I go,
In every be
Your NameI wish I knew your name.Your Name2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The taste of it
Upon my lips.
The sound of it
On my breath.
The feel of it
In my skin.
I wish I knew your name.
Could hold onto it
Savor its warmth.
Could shout it up
Into the skies.
Could sleep with it
Safe in my arms.
I wish I knew your name.
college has me worriedI sink. The world slides by.college has me worried1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Art Hurts.I fell in loveArt Hurts.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
with a painter
who loved his art
more than anything
A painter fell in love
with a poet
but I focused on my art
more than anything
We never had time
to love each other
because canvas and parchment
lured us away.
We only met
when I would sit for a portrait,
or he would pose for a poem.
Love is such a pretty
but the pain,
of which we had an abundance,
forged art so profound
that it's a wonder
we're both still
5:17 AMand it's sad to think5:17 AM1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
that if you came back
to tear me apart
i'd let you.
Skylar.Our life is a story,Skylar.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
That forms in my mind,
The words I put on pages,
With a pen dipped in my veins.
You are not my patron,
For my work you never read,
Paper you burn to ash,
The wind it blows away.
I am nothing to you,
My heart the present you'll throw away,
All brand new,
Still in the box.
My love is magic you don't believe in,
The tragedy you'll laugh at.
What is it about you,
That makes me so numb?
Your ears are deaf to my speech,
So I try to find another way,
But this is the story you'll never read,
These gentle words I write.
Your lips are roses you never gave,
I wanted you to be everything,
But all you will ever be,
Is the word to complete this poem,
It's Lonely At The Top.It's lonely at the bottom, too.It's Lonely At The Top.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Story Time.You are an open bookStory Time.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
In a language that I cannot
Misery.Its dark,Misery.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
no longer guide me.
Burn a light
and try to
Broken WordsI am nothing butBroken Words2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A crippled heart
And broken words,
Lost forever in
A dark empty room.
the willows no longer weep for us, isn't that sad?hospital wallsthe willows no longer weep for us, isn't that sad?9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
aren't very thick
and so every night i could hear you sleeping
soundly in the room next to mine.
i wasn't trying to kill myself,
not that time,
i just wanted to make myself fall asleep
so i could find you in our dreams.
i think most people would call you a regret.you're the mistake i'd gladly makei think most people would call you a regret.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
for the rest of my life.
but i'm just a few saturday nights
back in november.
whispers.i was so hesitantwhispers.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
to take your hand,
because when you said you loved me
i knew you meant it
and that scared the hell out of me.
Empty Pages.You are the perfect story,Empty Pages.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A plot unfurling from your touch,
And poetry in your eyes.
You speak with golden glory,
Into sentences of hate,
And promises of lies.
You are the book
I never had the words to write.
Don't delete my numberDon't delete my number.Don't delete my number2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I want you to keep it for as long as you can.
Until looking at it as you scroll down in your contacts becomes too unbearable.
Until it hurts in places you never knew you had.
Until you internally bleed and your skin bruises deep purple and blue.
I don't know how long it will take you—maybe tomorrow, next month, or next year.
But when you have finally had enough and go to delete it forever, text me first just to tell me so.
Don't give me time to reply, just press send and delete.
Because only then will you know just how I felt when I deleted yours.
Don't reply to this Facebook message.
Even if you do, I won't be able to receive it because you'll be long blocked by then.
What you don't understand is that I must do this.
I have to keep pushing you away because it's the only thing I know how to do.
This kind of pain is the only thing I can feel sometimes.
And I'm beginning to like it.
But don't worry. Please, don't worry.
there's something fatal about coughing up verse.i got written up for writing poetry on the desksthere's something fatal about coughing up verse.9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
i don't think they liked the language i used
when i wrote how my heart was beating
like headboards against the walls of people fucking
at 3 am to the sounds of joy division
whenever you read me paintings at dawn.
they were going to send me to the counselor,
but i said my therapist probably wouldn't like that,
so they just let me go.
but this saturday, when i'm cleaning lives off of every desk in school,
i'll just be thinking how much i'd rather be sitting on your roof
and laughing when we argue about rimbaud
and sighing as we start to die.
Lost VirginityHe took pride;Lost Virginity1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She claimed shame.
Please Come Back.I'm sorryPlease Come Back.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
for putting those bruises on your waist
I held on too tightly
because I was so afraid
of what would happen
if I were to let go.
Fatefate is the slutFate1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
we take out for
dinner in the Las
Vegas of life.
She fucks us and
then leaves us in
a dusty hotel
room, with only our
empty pockets and
the sun bleaching
our eyes dry
Cutter's RulesI thought the words I wrote down,Cutter's Rules3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Had me on the mend,
But like all good things,
This too must end.
It's time this suicidal poet,
Swapped her pen for her blade,
After all the cutter's rules,
Must always be obeyed.
So now I'll say a fond farewell,
A sad so-long and sweet goodbye,
And know that as I leave you all,
It's crimson tears I cry.
What can I say my friends?
Thanks so much - it's been a blast!
As I lift this cold dead metal,
And take this sorry life at last.
All They See Is ScarsI want to tell a story,All They See Is Scars1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
but this story isn't a fairy tale
and it wont have a happy ending,
because the real ones, well
they never really do.
In high school
I picked up my pen
and I began to write
It existed and it was pure
and it was lovely.
But my rapist rewrote me.
breathing on my neck
and tracing my back with his fingers.
He rewrote me as broken.
He wrote me as a statistic,
as another white girl who got told
that she cried rape for attention.
But that didn't matter because see,
I wanted to tell a story.
A story about family,
about picking each other up
about blood being thicker than water
about how not everyone's home
had to be broken.
But my father rewrote me.
When i picked up my pen
he spoke words to me
that I swear bruised my whole body
and I learned that nothing
was thicker than his alcohol
and my home was already shattered.
But I wanted to tell a story.
so I picked up my pen
to write about god.
A God that could save anybody
And God loved everybody,
which was the onl
Good Evening, OfficerOh, your name isn't Officer Handsome?Good Evening, Officer1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
BreakHe told me not to pick rosesBreak2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because beautiful things are fragile
and they are fast to break.
He then asked me if I was broken yet
I picked a rose with a lot of thorns
I left it upside down to dry out
When it was done I gave it to him
and I said
I'm still put together