Sometimes I sit and cry, wondering if I made the right decision. But I try and live with no regrets, I make all choices with precision.
Beautiful Mess.Beautiful Mess.
So you know that girl who’s always at lunch by herself, always at home by herself, a complete loner? Yes, well you've just met me. Quiet, shy, completely ignorant of every form of human being, my name is Violet.
I’m a freshman at Groverdale High this year, and well, let’s just say that school is not my cup of tea. Knowing that I have to go right back to that hell hole every Monday through Friday doesn't give me a lot off motivation. It’s only been a week since the school year began, and I literally feel like I’m dying. I don’t mind being a loner, I mean, I’ve always been one, but the continuous glaring at me is aggravating. At my old school I passed through the halls like a ghost, I was invisible, and I liked it that way. I’m certain that only two people, aside from some of the teachers, in that entire school new my name. I was fine there, but here, here it’s a different story.
According to my observations, the only
A Better Day.Hush hush, don't cry, rid of those teardrops in your eye. I hate to see you feel this way, but realize all this pain won't stay. Forget me, forget the past, don't let your memories last. I'm really not worth the pain or sorrow. A brighter day will come tomorrow.
Broken.He's broken and bruised, unsure of which path to choose. They've loved for a while, but lately, he can't seem to make her smile. He tries his hardest, he tries his best.. it's starting to seem like an impossible test. There's two different choices, only one you can choose. Choose the one that makes you happy, after all, there's only one way you can lose.
For You.I'd cry for you, I'd die for you, I'd run a thousand miles for you.
Through all my pain and sorrow too, I'd still manage a smile for you.
Poem.I know what I'm doing is rude and wrong,
but Honey, let's face it, I can't stay strong.
I'm broken and bruised every single day,
I thought that it might, but it doesn't help to pray.
You reassure me you're not leaving, you'll always stay true,
I hope you keep your promises because I love you.
Some people think things just go to my head,
but i'm not kidding, if you leave me, I'd rather be dead.
The Flesheaters"Oh my gosh, could you be quiet for once?! I'm starting to fail this class, and you know why because you won't stop talking! I can't hear anything the teacher's saying!" "Jeez Izzy, don't freak out dude. I'll stop talkin' okay, if you think that will boost your grade up " Matt laughed sarcastically.
"Man, if we weren't in school right now..." Izzy muttered under his breath.
"What would you do to me? Beat me up? Tell on me?" Matt asked curiously.
"Well, you'd find out then, wouldn't you?" Izzy said.
"Wow man, you're so scary! I think I'm gonna go home and cry to my mommy!" Matt laughed.
"You just watch your back man, karma is gonna come back and get you for all the things you say to people." warned Izzy.
"Eh... I don't believe in karma, I choose my own future." Matt laughed.
"Okay bud, you just keep on thinkin' that in that smart little brain of yours." Izzy smirked.
"Hey man! I do have a smart brain! So don't try and be cool by rippin' on me like that!" Matt yelled.
he made me cry long hoursI think the man who opened
the Starbucks door for me today
knew that I was broken. I think,
as he rushed to get the door
before I got there, he knew
my arms would snap off if I tried
to open it myself. I think he saw
something crooked behind my
straight teeth. I think crying
is my job and a day without bawling
my eyes out is a fucking holiday.
just so you know, I've learned how
love works: it's you doing nothing
and that meaning everything to me;
it's me doing everything and that
meaning nothing to you. we're broken,
you know. like a song on repeat, I've tried
countless times to fix us. I even volunteered
to be a janitor to sweep up all the pieces.
but I can't fix something that you broke. so
will you just leave me alone already? I'm not-
look closely, I have 34 syllables just for you:
my lips can't speak so
I settle with the open-
ing of hips instead.
I am begging you
to please be careful when you
pull off my tight pants.
I have mailed the notes-to-self
to my eye sockets, the ones tha
You make me cry. : Why?You make me smile,
You make me laugh,
You make me cry.
I make you cry?
Yes, you do.
Because of my heart.
Does it hurt?
It weighs me down everyday.
Then why acknowledge me?
Because it's full of love for you.
human time capsuleevidence suggests I
spend my energies on
friends who end up enemies and
more or less the rest of me worn
thin from splitting them from me torn
limb from lingering memories born
blessed unless the less you see seems
better than the best of me and
I forget how to forget myself so
sometimes I'm someone else or
else the effort's unaffected
(I'm in pieces/you're collected)
every breath an
in all directions)
each truth unearned
to cry and be heldhe's awake and he's cold and he's
crying in my arms, whispering songs
singing the sound of the rain into my ear
tears are falling on our cheeks
our skin swallowing the water
we are naked and calm
beneath the cinnamon tree
our skin cracking as its leaves land in our hair
holding dry leaves in our hands
holding them to our hearts
he's kissing my shoulder
the wind blowing my hair
onto his spine
my skin is bruised and cold
but he holds me as my eyes cry
into his heart, soaking the leaves
our bodies drifting and fading
into sleep, the leaves awakening
our skin cold and dry- the leaves alive
if the leaves were our hearts
blowing in and out of the wind
landing in our lover's hair
soaking up our lover's tears
falling asleep and awakening
with the seasons
the girl who didn't get shoti am all aches and pains and coffee stains--
am i the smell before rain, the blood in your veins?
my life is composed of memories and scraped-up knees,
failed attempts at surgeries
of my mind and of my heart, of whatever stops me
when i'm trying to start.
i am all the shores they never graze, that haze
when the sun burns rainwater on roads.
i may feel warm but know this--i get cold,
i get frozen stiff and when i'm bent i won't fold.
the marrow of my bones hold blue-grey skies,
murkier than the rampant clouds in your eyes
but when i'm rib-caged i still have someplace to fly.
i am all the forlorn poets, for i've lungs and a tongue,
i'm rung and stung and a song unsung.
there are secret meadows in my mind, with
lacklustre dews and tarmacadams that shine;
it's where the blood of my bruises tastes like wine
and the words in my throat tunefully intertwine.
i am all the streetlights telling you 'no',
telling you to 'slow down', and eventually, 'go' --
am i second hand smoke? does sp
ten things i miss about us.10.
i miss you hugging me and holding me tight to your body. the way you read over my shoulder and how you would pull one million hot air balloon strings just to sit next to me in class.
i miss the way you would smile at me.
i miss how when i came to class crying you would ask me whats wrong and i knew that you actually cared. the concern in your eyes took me where i knew i wanted to be.
the way your eyes would shine when i walked into the room.
i miss talking about the future us. how you were going to ask me out to dinner one day and how you never wanted to let me go.
the way you smelled so good you could taste it. just so you know, you tasted like sunsets and skyscraper mountains and beautiful unbroken dreams.
i miss the text message you sent me at quarter past one. my mom told me it was too late to be texting but i didn't care, because that was the night you told me i was beautiful.
i miss the games of twenty questions. sometimes they were over the line b
mixing analgesics with caffeine
is never a good idea,
but my brain has never known of continence
if we are making a few steps to paradise,
i'll leave sweat and blood stains inside each footprint
and, if needed, limp with broken hipbone
that'll probably penetrate the skin-
yet, when it's time to breathe properly,
i'll lie curled up inside of a linen for days,
seeing its lilac samples as dreamscape through late morning sunlight
still carrying the colour of those painted lilies
when pen's blue tip is touching the paper,
i always confess to that personal, white priest
of sick admiration
about the scar-kissing, greedy way of hair-combing
both in black and red.
when back's turned to mirror,
i'm folding and admiring
the handwritten books of absorbed intellect
inside the photogenic memory-
that's a gift,
but i'm still impudent enough
to label currently unseen reflection as intelligent-
virginity poemtonight is another stumble
into new areas blinded in darkness.
our bodies are new,
an indeterminable amount of space
between them and all i want is closeness-
the space to fold
like a bedsheet above us,
to spend all day
in a cloud of breath
and a daze of you.
my muted heart is bursting
with fire, the sparks licking
firewood, the embers kissing
i have had this title sitting in my notebook,
"the problems with being a virgin"
for so long
that i am not a virgin anymore;
i want to shout it to the gods,
to the moon and sun and stars
that i have made love,
i have felt another life in my body,
that i have felt,
what it is like
Giving ThanksThank you--
to the man
who stole my innocence.
(No amount of showers
will wash away
to my soul.)
to the woman
who drained my self-esteem.
(All of my bones protrude,
is a sickly yellow,
my hair is falling out
by the fist full,
and my teeth
are permanently stained.
Am I pretty enough now?)
to the man
who laid his hands on me.
(Skin to skin contact
scares the living hell out of me
and I, honest to God,
wish I were dead.
I'm not worthy of love.)
to the woman
who abandoned me.
(Just the mere thought
of having a bond with someone
sickens me to my core.
The streets taught me more
than you ever could.)
to the girl
who abuses me every day.
(You covered my body
and my heart
I had to carve a smile
into my lips
so I'd have something nice to look at
when I gaze in the mirror.)