..I feel like a broken star that lost its grip from the sky.. a caterpillar that died before turning into a butterfly..
flashback. playground swings. coke and vanilla ice cream. cotton candy and your very first kiss. but now you’re twenty-one and life has passed you by. you’re stuck in yesterday, drunk today and hung-over tomorrow. you listen to songs that linger at the back of your mind and write poetry about love that never did happen. [...]
by yours truly
your smile reminds me of sunshine’s aftertaste
from lazy mornings that I try so hard to define
in my journal and lightning was always my
favorite shade of the sky because everything seems
to fade into darkness in a split-second
(but just for a moment)
before a kaleidoscope of colors
start to reappear
in your eyes.
when we were both fifteen,
we used to believe that stars
could make our wishes come true but,
all they ever taught us was
how to fall.
as the darkness haunts the night,
it’s as if you braided the moonlight on my hair
so that even when you close your eyes,
you can still see my reflection.
while we wait for summer
to sing his lullaby
one last time,
we hold hands
and start to dance
inside our minds.
I guess you’re still
a little boy with big dreams
and I’m still a little girl
with a broken heart.
you were already a part of me
even before you knew my name
and I was already yours
even before you memorized my face.
I hope someday, we will finally meet
and together, both of us will learn how to fly
and touch the sky with our
In reply to - Clowder posted an update in the group share your psyche: Combustion all cats are grey in the dark, except for the ones who aren’t. and all these bridges lead to bonfires, where the witches watch the people burn. once i told you that you were delicate. once you told me you hated your family. so i cried for you when your grandmother died, and braided our fingers over happy dilutions about taped eyelids and chelsea-smiles. all cats are grey in the dark. yet the flames illuminate us and i can see your left eye socket. it’s the color of upturned trashcans, and juice boxes, and bitter smiles, said at the end of an awkward pause. once i told you to shut the hell up, and then cried about it for a week. i do a lot of that for you, crying i mean. and you just seem to stare back, indifferent. i never wanted to be joan of arc. but standing here watching you burn doesn’t seem to be any easier. but maybe when it’s all said and done, when my bridges are nothing but a greasy spot on the pavement, i can forget about your fragile hands. once i told my mother that I’d be different. I would marry a beautiful man and raise my kids on pretty things. But she blotted the mascara at the corner of my eyes and said; “all cats are grey in the dark.” • View
carousel by yours truly
this paper is our dance floor
as words waltz from our fingers
and we spill our hearts on the page.
please don’t stop the music of our poetry, darling.
oh, please don’t stop.
we create melodies from thoughts
as if dreams are the piano keys.
guitar strings lace our throats
waiting for the silence
to break from our lips.
and even if the earth spins
like a carousel with nothing to live for,
will you still hold my hand then?
In reply to - deadutante posted an update in the group share your psyche: Error Operator If you miss my voice but an automated message will tide you over, press one. If I forgot my house keys on the night stand again, press two. If you can slash my credit debt in half with no interest, press three. If it’s Valentines and your alone with a bottle of wine, press four. If your are left the only one laughing in your crowd of friends again, press five. If it’s Sunday night at 10pm and you forgot we had plans during the day, press six. If you’ve had an epiphany and you care to share, press seven. If your done waiting for me to figure out your life, press eight. If you’ve fallen in stinging nettles and can’t get up, press nine. If your without the courage to talk to me on the phone, press zero then pound. The operator will be with you shortly and they’ll help you sort out what you are looking for. • View
I am the autumn leaves that continue to fall
and the little girl that still wants
to learn how to fly.
you dressed me up in tragedy and taught me how to turn fragments of myself into words even if I’m messed up and falling apart.