whispered secrets
from melting lips
painted ruby red
with sins
poisonous breath
filling the air
making you believe
every single lie
the cheshire grin
filled with crooked teeth
is always in sight
as you fall
back into the trap
that was supposed to be
love
walking your path,
a deserted road
and the self-loathing
swirls around you
in a black cloud
threatening to suffocate you
with every step.
Surrounding you,
there is so much beauty
and you long
to touch the roses and lillies
but you know that surely
the thorns will stick you
and make you bleed
there came a time
where i began to notice
the kindness in his eyes
that was starting to flicker
in and out of focus.
the gentle hands
that used to hold me
were heavily calloused now
just little things
that began to add up
to the big picture
and in the end
he only laughed when i cried
and he was only truly happy
when she said his name
Maybe one day
i'll count the stars
in your eyes
and you will
whisper your dreams
to me
as we fall asleep
like two children in a
fairy tale.
Maybe one day
none of what
happens now
will matter.
Not her or you or me
and everything
that happened
no matter how bad
it won't matter
because i know
that somewhere
somebody
is writing stories
or poems
or painting a love story
that fits mine
and maybe he's been through
just as much
or half as much
but it won't matter
because one day
we'll meet
and we'll wish upon shooting stars
or maybe we won't
because we had
found each other
and we had nothing left
to wish for.
It shouldn't even matter,
but
it
does.
After all,
I'm just
the girl
with holes in her socks
and a head
full of fantasies.
I shouldn't even care,
but i do.
Because I fell
and
I know
I don't deserve this
and i don't deserve you
and i know
that maybe
i'm not what
anyone is
looking for.
And I know
that i'm not
really
anything special.
But maybe one day
i will be
to someone
who cares.
And they will love
the holes in my socks
and they'll make room
on the bed
for my stuffed animals
and they'll read my poems
and they will
laugh at my jokes
and they will
share in my dreams
even if they
are silly
or stupid
and they will
talk about b
It Gets This Way Sometimes. by omigosh1235, literature
Literature
It Gets This Way Sometimes.
it gets this way sometimes
feeling like you are
sinking
in quicksand
dragging you down
you plead for help
but no one listens
you just hope and pray
that the darkness
will have mercy
and swallow you up whole
but it doesn't
and you sink
piece by piece
inch by inch
until you go crazy
and when it finally does
eat you alive
you nestle into the darkness
and embrace it
but one day
someone decides to pull you out
and everything is so bright
so so bright
you squint and try to see
but you've spent so long
in the darkness
you don't have enough time
to see what there is above ground
before that same person
shoves you back into the quicksand
no longer
some days
i want to
disappear
to vanish
into thin
a
i
r
and to be
the ghostly
caress upon
your
c
h
e
e
k
as you sleep
and whisper
the words
that i never could
when i was right
next to you
i'd tell you
that you
are perfect
and that
you deserve
p
e
r
f
e
c
t
i
o
n
but that
isn't me
and it doesn't
make me sad
because i know
i could never
be good enough
or smart enough
or nice enough
or pretty enough
for you
with your beautiful
w
o
r
d
s
and your beautiful
f
a
c
e
i mean
i'm not special
or talented
or anything interesting
so i'll
disappear
and you can listen
to my
The Jacket.
This isn't a story about a jacket.
It's more about the person wearing the jacket.
Or the person receiving the jacket; or that person's feelings.
Okay, maybe it is about a jacket.
Do you remember the jacket?
Because I do.
I was at your house, like I always was.
It was raining out, but it wasn't the brutal, cold rain.
The kind that hit your face fiercely paired with a biting wind that made you grit your teeth and want to scream.
It was the gentle kind of rain, the kind that made you want to jump in mud puddles and be eight again.
The kind that matched with the warm summer air and kissed your cheeks with a wet dew like you
My day.
I wake up.
It's probably much too early because i was so exhausted that i went to bed at 6PM the night before.
Either that, or it's much too late because i stayed up all night drinking or trying to ignore the crushing weight on my chest that refuses to let me dream.
If it's much too early, i will most likely fall back asleep.
After all, there aren't many distractions at 7AM.
If it's much too late, i'll probably still try and sleep.
I mean, what is the point in getting up if you don't have much to live for?
Eventually, i will wake up.
If you aren't home, i'll probably play some mindless video games to distract my mind from the
I Wrote This For You, Two Hours Ago by omigosh1235, literature
Literature
I Wrote This For You, Two Hours Ago
Is this love or hate?
It's hard to say.
Both burn, scorching my soul and dripping ashes onto my heart.
Confusion is something I've always been good at.
I've never been able to tell you apart from the enemy.
I'll admit, when you left i was bitter and searching for a way to let it loose.
I wanted to scream.
I had finally found something that was worth it, considering much of everything else wasn't.
I had to tear it up and destroy it.
Getting too close to someone is one of my biggest fears.
Don't you see?
I only loved him because i knew he'd never truly love me back.
I couldn't love you, because you might actually mean it.
It sounds p