constant longing, forever past.minutes turned into
hours turned into
days turned into
weeks turned into
months without you.
i didn't think that
i could do it. really.
i thought it would
be over, disappeared.
i thought i would be
decimated, and i
started out that way.
but now i must heal
the wounds that i
faced every time i
saw yours, you're so
beautiful on the
outside but on the
inside, you're a
monster, never rest.
you look at me like
what we had never
existed, and quite
frankly, i'm okay
with just that. i'd
rather you view me
with indifference
instead of hatred.
all this time has
gone by so quickly,
do you remember all
those good times that
we made together?
nostalgia e constant longing, forever past.in Poetry
More Like This
the glance that should've changed everything.you let it all fade away.
you let it end, somewhere
inside you, you're dying.
i can tell. no matter how
far you stray away and
attempt to avoid me, you
will always linger still
in the background of our
most precious memories.
if you put as much effort
into our friendship than
you did your perpetual
game of hide-and-seek, we
may not be having this
problem, but there's a
moment when it all changes.
you looked right at me.
i didn't look at you, you
looked at me, and although
you deem it immoral to
make any contact with me,
you didn't turn your
head away as you kept walking.
i could feel my heart in
my chest, pumping, stopped.
there was no emotio the glance that should've changed everything.in Poetry
More Like This
mended.torn and shattered,
bruised and battered,
sick as hell, not
dead, not well, you
let me live vicariously
through all your precious
misery, i wish you
let me live in you
after what i did to you.
i thought the reason
for your changing season
was unrequited, love
ignited deep within
a hatred strong, although
i loved you all along.
piece the pages
back together,
travel through
this stormy weather.
whether or not we
try to hide, this
feeling cannot be
denied, i've tried
so hard to disappear
but i want attention
when you're near.
i fear you'll hear
a sketchy phrase
in which awareness,
i will raise my hand
above and make notice
to the one i love
tha mended.in Poetry
More Like This
her hands are like the pages and i am the story.i never thought i'd do this
to someone like you, someone
who i never thought would be
so important to me, one who
thinks that my life is
perfectly worth living, you
know exactly how to love me.
but today, i noticed something.
i noticed as i told you
how terrible i felt, a
breakdown in the making, your
hand on my wrist, clutching,
"just try to feel better."
it's not something you
never did, you always wish
me the best on my bookish
endeavors, but this time you
did not grab my hand and
play with my fingers like you
always do. you took hold
of my wrist and just kept it
there. it may only have been
ten seconds but it felt li her hands are like the pages and i am the story.in Poetry
More Like This
cacophony is just lust without the touching.i see you there,
standing, shivering,
spindling fingertips
slipping so effortlessly,
there is no small on
a back that slippery.
i've been trying to
celebrate this symphony
of freedom, feeling like
floating but not giving a fuck,
it's fascinating to me.
they're roaming, writhing
under covers, hypothetical
beds creak, hair's sleek,
slicked back with the sweat
of one who's not set.
there's no such thing as love
when there's only all this
din, i don't have the vim
to play along, scratch this
vinyl until it's ragged as
tin, i don't care.
it's all shot to hell, and
well, i've caught myself
telling it to stop, but this
mom cacophony is just lust without the touching.in Poetry
More Like This
|
Sta.sh
