long distance relationship.and do you thinkthe moonever gets sadwhen the sun leaves herto shine forus?
midnights always last longer than they should.i spend sleepless nights in my roomstaring at your picture on my mirrorand wondering why on earth someone as beautiful as youwould ever love someone like me,but then i rememberyou don't.
rain.i still have buckets in my roomfrom when you poured your heart out.plastic pails full of pain and loveand lust and tears and names and smiles.i don't know why i keep them...maybe i hope one day you'll come backto claim them.or when i'm being really dumbi let myself hope that you'll come back anywayfor me.
3:19 AMand at first i called you asthma,because you made it hardto breathe,but then i realizedyou're justnicotine.
the lace curtains drowned in the rain.you told me i wasn't allowedto write poems about you anymore.but it's like when my doctor tells my handsnot to shake;i can't control it.
Unspoken.My words wereknivesand I saw howdeep theycutinto your flawless, ivoryfleshand wrecked yourgentle heart.But this damagewas notwroughtby the words thatleft my lips,but by the wordsthat nevermade it past mythroat.
metamorphic.being a ghosthas lost its appealand i just want to slip back into the autumn warmthof human skin,but that sweaterno longer fits.
Fallen.I wonder how many tearsLucifer has shed,when he sees the scars on his backand remembers he once possessed wings.Probably still less than mewhen I look at your memoriesand see the hollow spacefrom where you cut me out.
Marigolds.I bought the flowersto put in your hair.Now people are telling methey'd look betteron your grave.
bon appetitshe extracts her heartfrom her cavernous centerlike a no-good tooth.coughing, she serves it upon fine painted ceramics.he lifts his fork,spears the meat.chewing, jaw swaying,he samples a bite.then he frownsand spits intohisnapkin.
OsteophilicHe loved his bones.The way they never asked too much of himor protested his requests.There was nothing superfluous in their design;simple, sleek, and uncomplicated.They were spry, robustready to take on the world withsharp and fluid motions.His bones were not brittle like she was.Not so breakable or frail,not so expendable.They didn't bend under pressureor fracture under stress.He loved his bones -their ivory purity eased his soul -and he was proud of the waythey held everything togetherso effortlessly.She knew one day he'd stomp thisold flame out, long before 'death do us part.'Cremation had never been part of the plan.
x.i want your ghostto haunt me,every memory of you.let them flood meand drag me down;drown me in yourname.fill my lungs,i'll take the painat least you gave mesomething.
Loneliness:a limbless spider entangled inits own web,writhing and awaiting tobreak free—only to be devoured by the fly.
saturday night.last night i found youlying beneath the stars,the rain had washed the dirtout of your grave.
-six word story-kiss me till my sadness melts
How Love Works.I neverfell in love withyou,you neverfell in love withme.Your demonsfell in love withmine,my demonsfell in love withyours.
happily ever after? not really.cinderella is dead,prince charming,because you read other storiesand just couldn't keep your handsfrom tangling in rapunzel's golden hairor caressing aurora's sleeping face.
and every other week in between-there's nothing worse than being stuck between wanting to d r i f t and, to keep the soles of your shoes sewn tightly to the brittle ground, waiting for the day when the weeds will burst through and break your hold anyway (because at the end of today you'll find yourself sitting at the window staring at an eternity you're not sure you're a part of
and somewhere she will fade-and she refused to be photographed instead; retained her ability to slip, through this water - filtered - mind:(memories washed clean) and the spark of a shadow left on the edge of this photographic memory-
Glassi found a mangled bodyand tried to fix it.but i got too closeand ended up cutting myselfon the jagged remains.the bleeding hasn't stopped.
YearningHe cuddles pillows.And when he closes his eyes,he pretends it's her.
Are my Feelings a Stranger to youIs it in there?Behind those gentle eyesthe belief that my feelings faded awaywhen we fell apart.As if the sun with all it's furycan halt the rising of the moon.Cold light reminiscent of winterwhere I wait for you asyou joyfully laugh in summer.Beautiful dancer in a field of sun rayslifting off all around your legs,only to wither and die at my approach.The sickness of depression that rideson the frost, and washes over in the rain.Where I hold my umbrella alone,arms outstretched in ironyto let the drops beat me into submission.Each one a reminder that holding on,to these feelings,is all I can ever do.Let our rekindled friendship stringus together through autumn and spring.Never to risk severanceby telling you what you really mean to me.
bittersweetOne night when I was at the cemetery,I could have sworn that I sawyour ghost standing a few feet away from me.Maybe it was the fact thatI had a few drinks before I went over there,but I don't think that I could havegone to visit your grave sober.
Memories of You (2/24)Your musical laugh, your sweet, honeyed perfume - myeyes open. You're gone.
You have 1 unread message:All of our conversationsAre held through an LED screen.I wish I could see your expressions;I’m guessing what you really mean.I need to hear your voice now,But all I hear is a boring text-tone.I want to hold your hand in mineInstead of just holding my phone.
infinite loveBefore this last breathescapes my chest,and before the light slowlystarts to disappear from my eyes,I just want you to knowthat despite everythingyou have ever done,I am still in love with youand will continue to love youeven after life itself ceasesto exist.
Dimpled Boys Bring HeartbreakWhen we met, I was eight and you were ten. I don't remember how you looked back then or how you spoke. You can. But I'm not you.-When we start talking again, you're fourteen and I'm twelve. I meet your mother again at Subway. I pretend to remember your name, the way your name sounds and everything good about you. I promise her that I'll catch up with you. That was the only honest word I said. Shoving a mediocre sub down, I search you up on Facebook. I had promised myself that if you were attractive, I'd friend you and message you. And if not...well no hard feelings right? It's not like we were close before. You're gorgeous. You have dimples as deep as oceans, a smile as wide as the sky. Your chin is chiseled and has just the right amount of five o'clock shadow that makes you look adult, but not in the creepy fourteen-going-on-forty way. I talked to you as soon as you accepted me back into your life. I reread every sentence ten times. I convinced myself that th
One Day His Life Will Be a Classic.There's sorrowon his lips,and sonnetsin his eyes.Each scar on his wrist,speaks in fatal monologue.He lives a tragedynot evenShakespeare could write.