|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| cigarettes and doorsteps
right where we met
blinking through clear-eyes
safety near the heat vent
backpacks and hand-me-downs
fit for this new town
handshakes for friends
new and old.
in the midst of the cold.
if only i knew then.... | | |
|
these oceans
speak and reak of longing.
here lye stories
you've yet to dream.
those skies above
bleed into the depths
where they sprout hope
and crack historical myths
just to drown apon
promises you should have kept.
this sight,
this sound,
this feeling.
it's cheap.
a souvenir
of a past
unkown
and misconceived.
it's not yours.
you can't keep it,
only tears wept
shall seed it.
Only your God
will reap it.
Mystery,
beyond you.
and behind you,
lies sentiment.
As long as there's life,
there's meaning, contents,
and discontent.
| | |
| At the end,
last kisses have desperate grips.
i pulled away too soon,
I could taste the heartbreak on your lips. | | |
| i brewed this storm with my emotions.
the city felt inside out.
the wind blew forward as i watched the people retreat.
this was the air of controversy,
the mindset of opposites.
the sky grew cloudy, it thundered a strike.
a bolt fell and the leaves jumped.
the rain dropped as the heat rose.
the lightning came down while the sky shook up.
there was controversy between the white's of our eyes
and the black of the sky.
and everything felt gray.
and the lights danced off of the concrete,
sending mixed signals through the storm.
nights like these everything that looks light
gets even brighter, and guides us through.
i weathered the storm,
i tried to catch a cloud,
hoping it would bring me back to you. | | |
|
he volunteers himself.
once, twice, thrice.
the alcohol has made it's negative effects on him until..
finally, we both get it our way.
i think he fucked me like he cared,
i wanted him to fuck me like he meant it,
something tells me he was scared.
once, twice.
and again later, when i let my mouth do the walking and
i make up for everything in record time,
fuck i'm efficient.
he didn't expect this from me,
any of this.
you can tell by the way he jokes afterwards,
and the depth of breaths.
i want to tell him that he doesn't need to joke,
i like him without the jokes,
but i don't.
i don't ever say what's on my mind,
and when he asks i plead the fifth,
there's no way i'm self-incriminating myself.
i want to tell him he makes me nervous,
but i realized that at moment, he didn't.
i had control over the situation,
and i hated it,
hated knowing that i could get whatever i wanted,
hated knowing that it wouldn't last.
| | |
|
