Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
emma hunt david Jan 2019
I'm 12 and I've been reading for 352 days straight and I have no interest in the people around me and why should I?
I'm 14 in this one and my sheets have polka dots on them and my pillow is Avril Lavigne's face and I'm thinking about the girl at school with pink hair and slow penmanship.
When I'm 16 you are 15 and holding my hand and I'm asking about french homework and trying not to focus on the movement of your thumb around mine which is not friendship.
This time I'm 21 and your thick bones outline my thin and I like this small feeling.
I spent a lot of time growing up wondering about my ****** orientation and struggling to find a box I could fit and move and wiggle in at the same time as being terrified of other people and completely fascinated at the thought of not being.

Let’s talk about my intuition
Talk about a brain that swells
I saw it coming to fruition
Easily for you I fell

Suspicions were a friend to you
Made me your toy; I would not tell
My nightmares and my dreams came true
Sequestered in your prison cell

Do all the ***** things you do
You’re Heaven and my private Hell
Just say one thing when I come to
And no more hear the ringing bells

Those words, please tell me, “I love you”
With earnestness, to me you sell
I don’t care if it isn’t true
You are my fix and I’m not well

So “dose” me up; I need to sooth
And fill this lost and empty shell
Drunk on your love; You are my *****
The cost of this I do not dwell

A choice I made yet did not choose
You instantly had cast your spell
Too blind; I did not see the ruse
An easy ‘mark’, no need to sell

Tried for a stew but made a soup
The drifted parts will never gel
No question, for sure I’ve been duped
I clearly hear the banging knell

Forever stuck within this loop
A never-ending carousel
You took my soul with one fell swoop
I said ‘hello’, you said ‘farewell’
Written: January 7, 2019 (started) / January 24, 2019 (finished)

All rights reserved.
[Iambic tetrameter format]
?
What is this curse I bear...
To always be aware of my doings,
But never knowing why?

I am a lost ship with no rudder or flares,
I am a roaming car with no wheel,
I am a scout with no compass...

I am,
a soul,
a heart,
a mind,

with no truth
no light
nigh even a tenuous sky...

when I lay these eyes upon where the stars would be,
Mindnumbing shudders grapple my limbs and slay me forth against the walls I'd built but only to keep my heart safe,
mindrunning awild as I can only see behind me.
Time, rushing away from these brittle bones.
I,
have no idea
amber Jan 2019
my eyes are red.

your touch feels meaningless.
your hug is without warmth.
when you speak to me,
it feels like,
you are doing it,
out of obligation.

I would rather not see you,
at all,
than witness you,
pretending to care.

a tear escapes my right eye,
as you leave.
Sky Jan 2019
.
                                                               ­                where are my clothes...

she wakes with a start,
your little robin and her
bare-breasted sunday morning

                                                        ­                       where. are. my clothes?

the sweet, white milk,
coffee barely missing her lips, i am pushed away yet
cascade down her sweet chin, neck, and out my window
onto the clothesline below

staining her
song: "Creep" by Radiohead
Next page