*Christmas Breaks continuous poem*
Alice was the type of girl you thought was pretty no matter what.
She listened to your favorite songs,
And to your deepest problems.
She could be trusted-
Even after you broke her heart,
And NEVER told you that you did.
She was happy when you were happy.
She thought boys were easier to understand than girls…then she made a friend-he was a boy.
And everything, not a piece was missing, was perfect for a full month or two. Then she started loving *you*…
The boy with one hidden tattoo and a pierced ear
Heart of marshmallow
Intricately sagged pants make him different from the rest- to me,i mean her.
I can’t compare his silliness to the hard hearted boys’ assinity. Snapbacks…and ties.
I love his style,his smile
He didn’t lie
Oh, he hurt me like he warned me he might.
But I always wanted scars from love.
Two of the best days of my life yet.
He likes rainy days, I think its because they hide his pain behind the poured on pane. It doesn’t matter that he’s not in love, he’s proven that he can be my amicaedove.
Had I been born in the love generation I would have a boy already-or rather I would have kept him. We would have waltzed on roads of silver under a moon of gold and kissed once on the cheek, twice on the lips, and thrice on the shoulder. Everything would have gotten better once it began. I would have made up sweet names in the blink of his eye and whispered them to him while his eyes were closed. I would have been faster than a bolt of lightning,sweeter than a cherry, and happier than the Pop of the ‘p’s in poppie. We would have held hands until class began. I would have touched his neck and eyelids with my fingertips.
I would have loved him with every ounce of love I have.
Eyes closed the world is beautiful.
I like the words you whisper.
The smell of you is lavendar.
Your hands near mine find me
When you decided you’re confused, I was lost again.
My mind seems stuck on rewind
I can’t get those pretty lies out of my mind.
They dance and mingle-
So that EVERYTHING i do
reminds me of you…
We still spoke
When we still hugged
When sweet words were shared everyday
When you trusted me
When in my eyes you were perfect
When i could call you sweet things
When nothing was weird
When ‘nothing’ was NEVER your answer…to me
When we could just be…
Remember that bambii,Amourdove…
How you called me ‘cutey’, ‘sweety pie’, ‘baby girl’ ? When you said you love me and i’m perfect 4 u?
Just remember me, please…
I’ll fall in love
As long as …
The paraquets sit together in old age, the sun meets her lover Sea every sunset, the clouds look perfect in the sky, as long as I hear about how much my Aunty loved each of those men, so long
I’ll always want that lacy thing named love and always hope it lasts forever.
Spirit of Bore :
Suffer.Suffocation sitting in this class room
Life is a great gloom.
I’ve nearly met my doom.
I wish something would go boom
For me to
Spirit of Impatience:
Twenty minutes of dread.
Twenty minutes more I wish I was dead–
With ABSOLUTELY no recollection of this ineffably terrible waiting experience.
Spirit of Redundancy and Gratitude:
Winding,counting down–downward spiralling. At least I have a pen and paper.
The elf stared at her lover,ears pricked up to the epitome of queer perfection.Her grape green eyes unleashed the NILE at sight of his blood running dark with Death’s poison-suffer. He was at Hade’s gate. What hurt most was that she knew there could only be eternal coals in his resting place. A demonic boy, as he could never enter or smell heaven’s apples. He had slaughtered, with no lamentations, baby girls in their cribs and castrated innumerable poor men’s bulls as soon as a cow was obtained.To watch the suffering of others was a sport he enjoyed. Or at least seemed to__it was difficult for her to remember now,as his bloodied face was washed pure by his tears.
“I love you”the Boy whispered, hardly audible, reaching. Her heart stopped. She managed a weak smile as he breathed his last breath. When she dried her eyes-against his lips was his dagger.
Chaos winds its lovely black tightly round my shoulders. I smile, because it warms me as I die inside. Smiles outside, because I like the pain it causes. Oh, I like it so ineffably much.
It hurts that it doesn’t hurt enough. The poems I would have written with the pain would have drowned me for ages to come.
Her servant announced her highness’s arrival:
“She whose arms encompass our kingdom in more warmth and pure snow than a swan’s wings gathering her white feathered young, whose lips surpass the ripest plums violet, and hair grows wilder and darker than blackberries on a bush. She who has the power to raise the Bright One from its nightly grave and send it to its death again at eveningtide.
The Fairy Queen lifted her splendiferous snow white wings and met her people.