| poetry that isn't. |
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a letter for mary bethdear lovely,a letter for mary beth
i turned off all of the lights in my house and curled into the fetal position while i waited for a phone call that i knew would never come.
before i raised the white flag over my face, i thought of being held. being loved. i thought of warm bodies and the things we thought we meant, empty promises and october tinted use-to-be's.
that moment was my letter to you.
love always,
me
by ~oddkward-haiki
September, still.He comes from a place with basement stairs and tornado warnings. Seventeen days after his plane lands with the desert on five sides,September, still.
he is throwing drunken punches and watching the sun ignite the clouds.
When I meet him, the bruises across his knuckles have just begun to fade. He leaves the keys in the ignition and leans
his left cheek against the steering wheel. His eyes are red rimmed and vacant, the windows to his soul. He quotes an imaginery prophet into his palm and tells me
that life is just a metaphor.
---
Winter slides inside my calendar without being
by ~oddkward-haiki
september, again.september, again.
i.
it's been almost a year again. you haven't been calling, and i haven't been answering.
the leaves still have not begun to fall.
ii.
i am known for soft hair, skin, words.
i am known for half finished stories
on frost covered benches, absent minded i love you's, and never being what you're looking for.
i am known for seventeen syllable
apologies, twenty dollar bills, and poems about nothing but you.
iii.
it takes me two minutes and thirty-one seconds of the dial tone to realize that
by ~oddkward-haiki
untruthsun.untruths
"look, i miss you. do you ever miss me?" i would be lying if i said that i miss you too.
this would imply that you are somehow absent from my early morning nightmares and obscure poetic somethings.
it would be saying that i do not think of you when i see naked trees lining the highway or clouds in the shapes of faces and hands and cosmic jokes.
so,
"no, i do not miss you at all."
deux.
i am afraid that you are lurking somewhere within the pages of my calendar, crossing out the days that i spell out your name
by ~oddkward-haiki
Random Favourites
no love, no gloryi don't love me. and that is how i understand why you don't either.no love, no glory
by ~youaresolovely
"clothes off, lights on"i can't give you what you want, so i guess that means you'll be leaving soon?"clothes off, lights on"
by ~youaresolovely
i'm guilty, now shoot mei’m sure you saw it yourself:i'm guilty, now shoot me
i wasn’t real. the kisses, they came from you, not me. i didn’t want you to touch me, didn’t want to hear. anything.
worst is, you saw it before i did. and i lied to myself for about a week before i exploded.
did you see? it only happened after that weekend. before, i really did love you. maybe i still do. but right now, the fire is gone. the passion disappeared.
you know what? i truly hope i’m wrong. i want to go back. back in your arms. but i can’t. it’s too late. i’m
by ~tryingtofindmyself
it's a thing.I have a thing for boys who lie to me. I have a thing for boys who don’t answer my phone calls. I have a thing for boys who sweet talk me. I have a thing for boys that save me. I have a thing for boys who make me feel like I’m the only one, when I’m not. I’m just the first girl that cared.it's a thing.
by ~Twilightjunkie94
this is what i want to write about:deviantID
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I just thought you should know that.
--
I think you're a boy with eyes like wishing wells that never come true.
When it's almost a heartbeat away from silence she curls up in closets and the lack of oxygen makes her feel like she can fly.
and thank you for the watch :]
--
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."
--
I think you're a boy with eyes like wishing wells that never come true.
When it's almost a heartbeat away from silence she curls up in closets and the lack of oxygen makes her feel like she can fly.
--
I think you're a boy with eyes like wishing wells that never come true.
When it's almost a heartbeat away from silence she curls up in closets and the lack of oxygen makes her feel like she can fly.
--
you are my sweetest downfall
--
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."
--
One does not write poetry, nor does poetry ask to be written. It demands it. It grabs you by the throat, forces your hand and screams, "write me or I'll tear you apart from the inside out."
*Modestly*Vainglorious*
--
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."
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