Edward.I think, At some point,Everyone dreams of finding..An Edward.Someone whose name you call, or whisper.And he's right there waiting.Someone who hums a lullaby,And holds you close, as you drift off.Someone who seems to just glitter, in the Sunlight,Whose eyes are often Topaz,Warm,And Reassuring.Someone who takes you to dinner,And ignores the pretty waitress.Someone who follows you,Watches you always,Secretly, Just to be sure..You're always okay.Someone Romantic,Yet has a good sense of humor.Someone Ancient, Yet Young.Who'll save your life, No matter what.Who cries when you're injured.Someone who cleans out even the deadliest wounds,However impossibly hard it may be.Someone to take you to your prom,Dispite your complaints,Who teaches you to waltz,As you stand on his feet.Someone who just knows when it's time.When forever really means forever.And takes you away,For years to come....
I Know You Hate Me Now But...I Know You Hate Me Now But...:Just give me a chance alright, I'll explainTo me, you're the girl that I notice everything about.The way you laugh, the way you smile;We got along great back then, even if we don't now.And to be honest, I miss that...You had the most lovely silky smooth hairYou'd give me the cutest anime girl smileI wish I'd talked to you more about Manga,Hell you got me started on the whole thing.You were fantastic at drawing tooMan I was always jealous of that talent,And I loved your drawings, like I once loved you.I wish that you could have been a professional.I would have bought your book every month y'know...You encouraged me to write.Back when my stories were shit,Back when my poems were still baby's rhymes.You taught me not to give in and I was grateful.Now just let me finish alright?I know that you won't speak to me.That's okay, I admit to being an ass,But the reason that I'm writing this poem to nobod
Scourgeleaves shuffled alongfrom breezes gone bitterscatteracross a riverblackenedwith maternal bloodfrom my thighs thatmergewith the onsetof autumn, andthe scourgeof our union-clay soil darkenedwith cooking oiland carcasses,and human wastedecomposingin the dying lightof day and a lifethe way summerpromises,only to turn away
Love letter to myself.Small handed girl,you've written the truthof your scars wherever there'sspace to write itand I love you.They painted overthe rape you wrote abouton the front door ofyour Uncle's houseand I love you.They took the floorboardsof your bedroom out where you'dcarved the shape of yourfather's fist into theirvarnished surfaceand I love you.You shook the sand ofyour fifteenth birthday out ofyour hair and into a jaryou keep under the bed toremember a girl with crookedteeth and bony knees whofled and flewand I love you.You've built yourself into afortress with nothing but yourfingernails and shredded skinand you let him in when hewaited by the door instead offorcing his wayand I love you.
wilted petals on bedsheets and bathrobesi was full offlowers, once.soft blossoms and awild, arcing sky thatwould have takenyour breath away.but now i amwatching thepetals of myskin swirldown the drainand thinkingabout howmy depressionis a bodilypesticide,slowly stuntingall kinds of growthuntil finally,nothing tries togrow anymore.
It's The Distance, I Think.It was sitting on our kitchen counter-Brown glazed and curved, like her-Perched next to the microwave.I thought it would best holdHer spatula and my two bamboo spoons.She filled it with yellow tulips andPink carnations and hydrangea blossoms andTold me to "Get your own spoon vase"With bells in her voice andHer cheeks dimpled and her eyes crinkled,And I wrapped my arms around her waist andPunished her back-sass by tickling her ribs untilWe were a jumbled mess, strewnAcross the tile floor- with flushed cheeks andNot a worry in the world. These days, the curved brown jarSits next to my stove top andHolds my two bamboo spoons,Three of my own spatulas and a metal whisk.The tiles have been replaced with hardwoodAnd my eyes never crinkleAnd I can't remember the way hydrangeas smell.
Throwback ThursdayYou know what I miss?The simple daysOf aimless buses and trains,Like magic carpetsThat helped us to escape,If only for a little while.I miss the endless walksThat led to hours ofShopping center shenanigans--Spinning in desk chairs,Petting that little blind kitten,And reading anythingFrom cheesy joke booksTo Frost's melancholic verse.I miss cheap deli lunches,Discounted coffee house milkshakes, andMidnight conversations on the swingsAt your old elementary school,With the moon so bright thatI could see your T-shirt.Remember that time when, hot chocolate in hand,We followed the soundOf live fiesta musicSailing on the hollow winter airUntil we nearly crashedA Hispanic family's party?Or what about the momentsOf heartbroken silenceWhen we discoveredThe ruins of a pianoAt the churchThat was once your daycare?I remember climbing, barefoot,Halfway up Ricky's fenceTo watch his illegal fireworksAnd stealing Mom's carIn the dead of night,Just for store-bought C
i don't need to sell my soul laughing against frost, kissing stylish arsonists + I still love every sky escaping from your lips
Snowed In With YouSnowball fights and cold, damp clothesWe'll both have a bright red noseHugging our cocoa close to our chestsCrunching on cookies, a crumbly messWarm cuddles in bed, that soft "wake up" kiss..Good morning, love.I've dreamed of this.
Waking NightmareYeah ummm... The Poetry is the picture... Sorry Nothing to see here in the box...