She would sit, lost inside her thoughts.
She saw everyone; they were someone she was not.
She didn't do it just because.
She cared about everyone, but she wasn't content with who she was.
She was down quite a lot,
Everything took such a toll on her that she always had second thoughts.
She spent her life giving, never wanting anything in return.
But when someone gave to her, it always made her stomach turn.
She was afraid to take from others, even if it was a nice gesture.
She always doubted it, thinking it could be given to someone better.
She feared rejection, always wanting to be accepted.
But she hoped to never push it too far, because then she would feel neglected.
She apologized for everything, hoping to make everything right.
She tried to let nothing go wrong, even if it wasn't her fight.
Her heart was too big for her head to handle,
That sometimes she fell, like a rider off a horse’s saddle.
She always felt she gave more than she got.
But that was okay, because she loved everyone; no matter what...!!!
Love doesn't go out like a light
or with a bang
it passes away
as slow as honey drips
onto your morning toast
love clings to your being
just as wet clothes to skin
but clothes dry
and so will your tears
it comes back in waves
like a flash of scorching heat
that you can’t control
or be rid of
you try to suffocate it
as you would most fires
but you’ll find
the flame won’t go out
not completely
not merely because you wish it so
the nights become simpler
and the waves of unbearable heat
grow to be short flashes of subtle warmth
and soon love will be
just a distant pang in the right back corner
of your still-beating heart
one grey day
you will visit the grave
of your affection
and wish for it to be revived
and feel a flutter in
the pit of your stomach
that proves
it truly hasn't died
it never truly will...!!!
Falling in love, how perfectly that describes the feeling.
A slow dive into a sea of not knowing what’s at the bottom, but hoping you can regain yourself at the top if anything is lost.
A voice on the phone becomes a melodic remembrance- it’s repayable in your mind.
A smile grows
from being just a facial expression but to an antidote for not only their sickness but as well as your own.
A song, reminding you of little things about that person you took a liking to somehow can’t be pushed into the the back of your mind.
But who’re you kidding? You don’t want them in the back of your mind.
You want them to fetch you in their net as you plummet deeper and deeper.
Their "all you've learned about" past- present- you can’t stop playing house in your dreams.
Now all those little quirks turn into gems and you find yourself collecting them at sea.
Your heart strings feel like they've been weighted down by rocks; some of which you didn't even know existed inside of yourself
Now you can’t bear to keep all of the treasures you've found on the way to the bottom to yourself.
You no longer fear what’s at the top because you've already gained so much- you become weightless and float up
You’re here...!!!
Poems About Roses.
There is a lot of poetry
About roses and thorns,
and the way a single bead of blood
wells up on your fingertip.
I am surprised by how good it can be.
Sometimes poetry written by young lovers,
trying desperately to fuck each other,
is as raw and clumsy and predictable
and honest
as the fucking itself.
I do not think you would like to be called a rose.
Let me just say,
when we kiss-
and allow ourselves to be the sort of people
who write poems about roses and thorns-
the stubble rash is as painful and honest
as the prick of a rose’s thorn...!!!
Love
Its everyone dream that's worth the goal
its something so low in price and yet so valuable with sentimentality,
its appearance is only visual to those who accept its true deeds
its the rock of oath that can be remorsefully split with the slightest thought of opposing commitments ,
it can save the trough of loneliness
it resembles a heaven like rose Garth
its lustful, dangerous integrates
oh how i despise the idea of its luring desires,
if its to be as a weapon it could of most hysterically catastrophic
its....the culprit....its.....
Love...!!!
Love in a million thoughts or so.
How many of the million thoughts per day are about love?
What does that statement even mean?
Like, do I love how my chucks represent me?
I love Justin Beiber. So. Freakin. Much.
Love is such a drag.
Love is such a rush.
It won’t survive among those who are mundane.
To crush is the pursuit from love’s pang.
Follow what’s safe, what you know. No need in getting caught up on love’s bullshit.
Speed through love’s highway.
Love can be a highway to hell.
Love is the highway to heaven.
"Move love across the seas." Life’s love.
Keep your heart protected for love can be deceiving.
I love my mommy, she so cray cray!
"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." Love people.
Faith is love.
Love is everything.
"I’m the baby, gotta love me!" Family’s Love.
Love is nothing.
Treating love as if it’s expendable endangers everyone.
"Love and domination are antithetical." Trust’s Love.
Love your worth.
"What up Blood? What up Cuz? It’s all Black. I love us." Community’s Love.
My heart hurts seeing young folks not show love.
Show love to folks who look just like you because not many of them are around.
"Love is like oxygen. You get too much, you get too high. Not enough and you’re gonna die." Health’s Love.
You need love to survive.
Love kills.
So how many thoughts do I have left today...???
In flames
I whimper, earnestly,
I think I shouldn't be so excited
about dying all over again in your stretched out hands that you use to help me up.
But your fingertips, they’re too heavy
And once you touch my neck,
I break
Into gazillions of little lights and sparks
And I want you to watch me die,
but I also want to live.
And if it’s not by your side, is living really worth it?
If your palm never crushes my bones,
and I can’t feel your wrinkly hands on my shoulder,
will it ever be enough to live?
And I’m living and letting myself die,
at the same time,
as you step closer and away at the same time too.
It’s strange, because we’re in a compass,
but I never screamed loud enough
because you don’t hear the frequency at which I mutter my sorrows.
and yet I want to die, and want you to look into the glass of my eyes and my bones
but you don’t seem to get hurt when you touch me
It’s like I have curvy thorns growing on me, but you are steady, and you won’t fail
so you reach down again, to the curve of my neck
and you crush my
thorns
and bones
and love
and everything,
with your oblivious hands that don’t look at me
don’t you dare lay a fingertip on me anymore.
But yes, do it again,
one more time,
because it hurts,
but I don’t mind, dear,
I never have...!!!
