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The Event of the CenturyReciprocation of your full affection has not garnered the exact results that I believed it would.
Your affirming words of romanticized thought are lacking in expression and emotion alike, recently; I am beginning to doubt the validity of these statements.
I know- O, believe me, my darling, I understand; situations such as yours maintain the ability to drain an ocean, let alone one’s spirits. Yet, there rests an unsatisfiable itch at the base of my neck, which insinuates that your dry conversational customs when pertaining to myself and myself alone are but results of confusion, undesired preferences, and maturity of your individual thought process.
Has your position rendered you nubile?
Do you no longer wish to be courted by an aspiring, albeit lowly, trapeze artist?
I can only alter my personality to suit your needs so much, my sweet, -I can no longer bend my psyche to your will, I'm afraid.
Multitudes of prayers, all directed to an unspecified deity, escape the prison walls tha
Designing FrankensteinI am the lover, denied.
I am the dead, resurrected.
I am the confined, escaped.
I am the optimist, cynical.
I am the child, lost.
I am the questioning, crucified.
I am the metaphor, personified.
I am the strong, broken.
I am the king, denounced.
I am the secret, publicized.
I am the solider, doubting.
I am the painter, blank.
I am the believer, forgotten.
I am the wall, crumbled.
I am the blood, forever.
I am the static, dynamic.
I am the silence, screaming.
I am the nothingness, surrounding.
The Universe in WatercoloursI dreamed of you, darling.
I dreamed I watched you paint the Universe in watercolours.
Your lips shined in the light of your desk lamp, your small grin coated in joy.
The wild plains of your hair were shrouded in sensual darkness.
I heard your voice while I dreamed, darling.
I heard it echo through the caverns of my subconscious.
It stroked the nape of my neck with its glorious fingernails.
I woke from this dream by my own volition, lovely.
My self-awareness took hold of my shoulders and shook violently, allowing me to understand that it was not you I saw, but a figment.
I woke from this dream, my darling, for I could not bear to be so separate from you.
Reality crashed forcefully into my body, singeing my skin and stinging my eyes.
I looked towards the window of my office, and saw your radiance in the shining sun.
The coldness in the air intensified our separation; thoughts of your blush wrapped themselves warmly around my being.
I saw your cheeks in dust, your eyes in shadows, your b
He's MineHe's so fragile, so delicate,
Like a thin piece of glass.
Yet when he breaks down,
There's a throbbing pain that urges me to protect him.
He's so defensive, so irritable,
Like a mask to hide his inner pain.
He's so beautiful, so lovely,
I would be so possessive about him.
Talk to me.
Tell me what shattered your heart inside.
Your heart is beating, yet, you're not alive.
You're hearing, yet, you're not listening.
You've become a black shadow.
I can see the demons in your eyes.
Your eyes have glazed over.
Your life is coming to an end.
But yet, you're still healthy, still alive.
You smile to hide your pain.
But you're slowly dying inside.
You keep saying 'I'm fine', when I know you're not.
You tell me 'it's just a phase. Don't worry'
But I've never worried so much before.
You're like a leaf
Your beauty slowly withering away, unbeknownst to everyone around you.
Soon, you're going to fall from the tree, and hit the ground.
People will walk over you, ignoring how much pain they've caused your heart.
But hold on.
It gets better, I promise.
Your heart will beat once again.
I'm hoping for a sign of life.
I'm watching for those eyes to fill with joy, like they used to be.
I beg you with all my heart.
SolitudeFrom dusk to dawn,
in this desolate place
that we call
I feel that
with no way out,
Without a future,
without a purpose,
my yearning soul...
As the darkness
As the numbness
of my sanity
Love at Last SightI remember the day well. I saw her and my heart skipped a beat. I saw her back, as she walked away from me. I watched as she climbed in to the train, and left me. She never even looked back. She never batted an eye, never wrote, never communicated with me at all. She was just gone. And somehow, I can only blame myself.
Some people believe in love at first sight. They say that when you meet that person, you’ll know right off. I am not one of those people. I once believed that, years ago. But after many broken hearts and many busted dreams, I no longer do. I leave naive thoughts like those to those who have never loved, and only theorize about love.
I remember meeting her that night, so long ago. It was, just a blind date set up by my friends. They said I was too much of an introvert, too shy around girls. Frankly, I was just tired of them riding me so hard, so I agreed to go. I didn’t bother to tell them I wasn’t shy around girls, but had been burned so many times that
How to Annoy a WriterAsk them what they’re writing about.
Tell them that their characters need more physical descriptions because apparently you’re too lazy to use your imagination.
Say that their writing reminds you of Twilight.
Tell them that their typing is distracting you from your T.V. watching.
Now turn on the T.V. REALLY loudly.
Call them an awful person for killing off one of their characters.
Whine about how you didn’t like the ending because “OMG how could you???”
Get mad at them for writing instead of doing something productive.
Rant about how much you hate your English teacher for forcing you to read.
Always use improper grammar and never punctuate your sentences.
Never. Use. Paragraphs.
Ask them, “What’s so great about writing, anyway?”
Then ask them why they want “to be” a writer, like that’s actually something you can achieve.
Call all writers antisocial, depressed, weirdos. Because, of course, all of them
The WolfThe lonely wolf moans at the moon
As he sings his melancholy tune
To roam alone also I am doomed
Without a home to call my own
I am living behind a veil
Like the hermit crab inside his shell
Or an angel that from heaven fell
And now he dwells inside of hell
My heart desires an apparition
That haunts my dreams of its own volition
And just appears as a vision
Inside my mind without permission
It plagues my heart like an infection
And breaks it apart into several sections
I have only for you one question
Will you let me drink of your potion?
Things A Guy Will Leave Out Of Love Poems10 Things a Guy Thinks around His Crush but Will Leave out of Love Poems
My girl is kind of like a unicorn…
‘cause I have the problem of getting so socially awkward around girls
That I scare them as if I was the grudge
Or a mummy
Or a vampire (oh…wait)
This girl is cuter than a panda bear…
And Running through my head is a list of things
That I think around her but probably shouldn't
Things that I couldn’t possibly say to her face
But have no problem telling a bunch of strangers:
Why are you single?
Why are you not single?
You’re not asking her out right now
Don’t shit your pants.
I just shit my pants.
That’s a lovely pair of….
Maybe if I write her a poem,
She’ll fall in love with me.
What’s her name again?
Is she looking at me?
She’s looking at me.
Oh my God, she’s looking at me…
She’s looking at me
She’s talking to th
WaitingGod comes tomorrow… but tomorrow never comes.
For every night in my office, I find myself staring at the blinking red numbers of a digital
clock, as I come to the realization that tomorrow does not exist.
Each night, while my eyes turn dry from the cold air, I witness the anticipated future morph
into the already-fading present.
I wait for God to sit upon my window sill, and look out over the dark houses that line the
I wait for his arrival tomorrow.
I anticipate his coming.
The clock blinks twelve.
He must be running late.
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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