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One Day His Life Will Be a Classic.There's sorrow
on his lips,
in his eyes.
Each scar on his wrist,
speaks in fatal monologue.
He lives a tragedy
Shakespeare could write.
december.and when they take me
to the morgue,
will you see the difference
between my skin and the sheet?
and when they close my eyes
please be standing over me,
so that your face
will be the last thing they see.
and when those tears fall
down from your face
pour them on my lips,
so i can take you with me.
and when they look away
caress my bloodless face,
give me one last gush of
and when they bring the casket
gently tuck me away to sleep,
read me one last story
from that book atop the shelf.
and when they place me in the ground,
beneath six feet of dirt,
leave your footprints in the snow
and please don't let them melt.
and when I fall to hell
i'll be waiting at the gates,
but darling please take your time
there is no need to rush.
Recast.It's not natural
for a corpse to be
and a living soul
to be so cold.
Let's switch places;
allow me to lie in your
while you sleep
in my bed.
friday night.on our first
you took me to a cemetery
just outside of town.
i guess you wanted to
what you would do to me.
They Call This Drowning.We fell in love;
A deep and surging
with lilac waves that
wrestled with our ailing
and azure air that choked our
We were in over our heads.
midnight express.i would never want
to live forever,
so tell Death
when he comes for you
to stall the train
because i'm going too.
epitaphs don't count as love letters.he said my eyes
gasped like a dying breath
and he wasn't going to wait around
for the funeral.
you spell 'love' incorrectly.i have scars on my face,
you have bruises on your knuckles,
and here i am
for hurting your hand.
NothingI heard someone sarcastically sputter,
"You are what you eat."
But hearing that sole sentence
allowed me to finally understand
why I am
what I am:
I Loved A GirlI loved a girl – she smelled like August melancholy,
she carried the scent of festival emotions,
tempered by the midnight flames
and fireflies' glow.
I loved a girl – her hair, the gentle hue of embers,
reflected dancing candlelight,
while in her eyes, as brown as mahogany,
I discovered tiny galaxies,
but most importantly – I saw my smile.
I loved a girl – I sensed her heartbeat,
playing to the rhythm of my breath.
Her every word,
imprinted tender cherry blossoms,
onto my soul.
I loved a girl – her lips tasted like morning air
cool against my heavy forehead,
her skin, softer than satin threads,
played games with the waning moonbeams -
its gravity, I could not resist, like the Sun,
cannot escape the zenith, on Summer solstice.
I loved a girl – she made me happy,
and sadly - I love her still.
the boy i used to write poems aboutTHIS POEM IS NOT ABOUT LOVE.
you took the posters off the walls for the first time yesterday,
moved the bed back into the corner and stocked up on that tea
you love but i’ve always disliked. opening
the blinds used to be a sin but now they drown the room with sunlight,
causing your hair to turn that ugly dirty-blonde color i absolutely hate.
last night, i heard from a friend you got the job at that fancy newspaper
and you’re finally going vegan - don’t let me forget to tell you your risk
of heart attack will double, maybe triple.
i haven’t gotten an email in twenty-four days. oftentimes,
you don’t realize you're falling apart because you're in the process of falling apart.
my mother came over to help me move into my new studio.
we pushed the bed (mattress, you claimed the frame) into the middle of the room
and put on new sheets. these don’t smell like you, not that
i could even smell-taste-hear-see-feel these days.
you stole my heart and bed frame an
a little more
(or maybe we'd just go broke).
i'm not dead, i'm only dying.i would
sell my blood just
baby, i am
not broken, just
a little bit
bent- but that cat is
out of the
the secret is that i
am a liar. i have
told people that
i am fine and
i am whole when i think
that my veins are
starting to rot-
i think i have
died. this is
no more than
TonightBring me to life
With your touch.
Love me now,
Forget me later.
Set me on fire
With your lips,
Into my soul.
At least for tonight,
Let me feel again.
You are incandescently individual.
From the lashes that sweep your cheeks,
to the lips that quiver with trepidation.
The sky doesn't fathom your eyes;
or the fingers that gesture and flutter.
There is none akin to your voice,
that which you speak is yours alone.
Contemplate the slope of your skin,
the indents betraying your dimples.
You are incandescently iridescent.
If they say you are not lovely;
they speak only of themselves.
.some need to know life
like the beasts do, the heron
the stray dog the cobra the salmon
dead in it's stream,
but i want to shed out of my skin,
don't want to be no white ghost no more
and i met a magician, got rid of
the dirt in my mind,
pulled my memories out
of my temple like napkins,
made a mess i couldn't clean up
on the pavement outside, no tip for him,
you're gonna have to excuse
the mess in my soul, i wasn't
been pleading with words for an
explanation, came home late last night
smelling of someone else's ink,
i think i saw the light then but
i heard the darkness too, i kicked them
out, now it's just me and my
crazy i keep in a tank,
watch him grow limbs and climb out
over the side, and now sometimes
he sits on my lap and i stroke him,
but he's getting too heavy to hold and
he's starting to speak for himself,
says don't drink that be good
i need you and you need me and you
know it, i don't think you can ever
truly know someone until you can admit
to yourself t
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