Poems Quotes

I thought about making my poems shorter, but I can't

I feel like if I did, it would take away the meaning behind the poem

movies can be so raw, so real it hurts

i cried, wilting like a flower, when richie slit his wrists, vertically, and watched the blood fill the sink because he loved his sister when he shouldn't have. snot was trying on my face when he kissed margot. when she kissed back i bloomed like spring.

my reaction was more subdued when frank had done the exact same thing, because frank had done this because he didn't like himslef. and that i could relate to. things are less shocking when they have happened to you before. the pain was there though, and my heart fell into something thick and heavy.

i felt phantom pain in the joint of my elbow when harry had his arm - the same terrifyingly pale shade of my own - amputated, the limb purple and angry against his flesh from needles used by others. he cried and screamed as nurses held him.

i shook as tyrone went through withdrawal, sweating profusely, whimpering for the mother he had let down.

i found it hard to breathe when mia started to convulse, her nose dripping red, and her mouth foaming like newly opened champagne. the belt holding my lungs suddenly snapped when vince stabbed her with a dose of epinephrine straight to the heart. i noticed our breath rushed back into our bodies simultaneously.

i have felt more love for fictional people than anyone else, and i do not know why. i think it is because they are so raw, and i think this is because they are not afraid of who they are, because they are unaware anyone is watching.
Drugging my mind
day in and day out
with small capsules
meant to fix me
like I'm a broken
tea pot with
the spout missing-
leaving it chipped
and ugly
and worthless-
forgotten at the
bottom of an
old wooden crate


Sitting in a whirlwind
of pelting rain
that burns acid
and thought tearing winds
that rattle my soul
stay strands whip
against my face
forming cracks for the acid
to pool and dwell in
on my fogged glass cheeks
Strings of thought
strike my neck
the barbed thorns of anxiety
trapping them there
The winds twist and turn them
forming knot after knot
I struggle to breath in
the deciet filled air,
every gasp of breath
failing to fill
my crushed lungs
The knots get tighter
as the blood splattered ground
beneath me disappears
I fall as my knees buckle
finishing the noose
I created around my neck.


the ride is long
i am tired and
so is the sun, it seems
we both drift from the world
but unlike the sun,
the world seems brighter without me
count the nights where sleep is dreamless,
miss the days when life was seamless
there's nothing as pretty as the past
and nothing pretty ever lasts
"Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt. Poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen."

― Leonardo Da Vinci

don't do that don't
tell me i'm not
trying i swam
through 12 oceans 
and drowned in 
every single one 
of them but 
every time the water
seeped in my lungs
and the sea animals
swam throughout 
my whole body
i coughed them up
and kept swimming
to spend another day
with you.
you are
my life raft
and my tides 
and waves
you are the ship
that carries me to shore
and makes sure i'm alive.

In the night, I lay, still
as men shout in the dark
they laugh loudly and
without fear for they
are drunk, and alcohol
can bring forth a breed
of confidence that
years of therapy
never could

I lay still,
and I listen
as they shout and cry,
there is a smash
and I think of how
someone has now lost their confidence,
how it is slowly swirling down the drain

I lay and I wonder
why I feel so afraid,
tucked inside my bed,
whilst these men are fearless
of the night in which they dance

I guess it never changed at all. We were born depending on others and as we grew older it only got worse. I always tried filling my heart with nature and words written by other exquisitely bright people but still their words only directed me right back to you. I know you are full and I am empty full of ghosts and shards of stained glass. I miss you terribly but is it only because I have to miss somebody? Will I float away like debris left in a hurricane if I have no one to miss? The only real home I know I have is the one I make inside myself which is always full of cuts and bruises which doesn’t help at all.

I guess I sat next to you because I thought you would tell me stories that could make me forget but all I remember is you putting your hand on my knee and everything turning soft to the touch. I might as well just lay on my bed and feel my window pane drip of water so I can at least breath in the cold air with no feelings at all. I don't love you but I pretend that I do, so that I have an excuse. Do you remember driving through the rainbows in the sky and feeling each others mouths until dawn? I hope you don't forget that I know you have exactly 28 freckles spread across both your cheeks and that my eyes only shine when they're in reach.

tell me where to find you in your dream last night? in the last cigarette you inhaled? I hope you don't wake with someone else's teeth in your mouth because nothing but my name will escape your lips and nothing but my touch will be all over your skin. It's quite frightening how my hands show how anxious I am to be able to feel you again. Your eyelashes fall like beautiful roses that only a girl like me would know about. In my eyes I see nothing but beauty in you and no matter how your words change my eyes will never alter. At the end of the day all I'm sure of is maybe I should let my breath catch up with yours, since you are the only poem I've ever known.

-haven't been on in about a year but decided to share my poem with you guys

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