Empty Poetry @darkheartspoetry - Tumblr Blog

Astrology

We would walk home in the dark and look up at the stars each night. I hope you never find those stars as bright or as interesting as when you would walk me home.

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I'm no longer yours, but in my heart. You will always be mine. Though, I now can no longer scream that to the world.

Lonely lover.

Memories made here, we're never to be shared. Only to be whispered against the skin of your flushed chest.

I hope she's nice, I hope she keeps your bed warm. But I always kept your side of the bed warm. Feel the difference?

Other lovers.

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It hurts so much, I can't breathe. This waiting. Waiting for you to either drop me or want me. All this thinking you have to do. But you'll never see the thunderstorms, swallowing my heart. As you can't see, more than you can feel. Your expressionless face tell me all I need to I know. That your just waiting for the right moment to cut that final string. To watch me fall. As I watch you walk away.

Waiting

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Overdose in hand, here I am taking pills, to try and feel whole again.

Withdrawal symptoms.

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My heart is so unsettled. My head is a mess, can you tell by my dark circles, that I haven't slept?

Unsettled.

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I no longer feel welcome in your arms, but I have nowhere else to call my home.

Outcast.

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I hope the kisses I gave you leave a sour taste in your mouth when they are no longer yours.

Bitter Swallow.

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I want to rid my skin of your touch, My mouth of your taste. My ears of the sound of your voice. Your smell in my sheets. I want to rid myself of the memories. But I also want to wrap myself in them Hoping one of them will kill the ache in my chest.

Conflict.

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The Unfaithful.

Not even the faithful Are safe from band whores And virgin sluts Explicit magazines And hidden copies We all want something we can't have Kinky and obscene Porn stars, leaders in the field Pros at their game How we wish we were them. Stuck in our seemingly average Ordinary subruban sex life Pity the fool who doesn't want a plain jane.

Realisation

My heart aches,

On the thought that

I have come to accept

That I have out grown you.

That the people I saw

Five days a week,

Are not my friends.

Just regular faces.

My life is turning upside down

And I have come to the realisation.

That you have never wanted this

As much as I have needed it.

Now that realistaion sits in my chest

Like a stone

I am not sorry for the way I feel

Or that I wrote it down

I am sorry,

For my parents

For my brother

Who will try and pick up my shattered pieces.

Because I came to the realisation

That you wont come and be the person

I need you to be.

The Twelve Dark Years

At aged four are my earliest memories Happiness and joy. Watching my brother take his first steps On the damp grass on the front lawn Of our holiday in Cornwall At aged seven, I remember feeling scared to go to school I had my first 'boyfriend' For a while we stayed like this How much I wish I could change that At aged ten, I was horrified that I had stained my white school shirt From the blood pouring from my nose The bruising didn't matter But the cracked mirror did At aged twelve, I started secondary school Mortified of the thought I would be someone else's target I begged my mother At aged thirteen, Was the first time I drew a blade across my wrist. An argument with my father My emotions in a war I let the pain whirl down the drain of my shower At ages fourteen, I took my first inhale of nicotine I choked so much But it took the edge off Of my sadness At aged fifteen, I thought I had found love In a guy three years older than me I gave up my virginity Eighteen months later I regretted my naive decision At aged sixteen, I drank so much I was blind I thought I might die As I threw up in someone's driveway I woke up at seven am the next morning To my friend screaming the house down in the throws of orgasm. I rolled over and fell back to sleep Till four in the afternoon. At aged sixteen, I went to see a therapist After the fourth attempt of suicide In a dark place I found no light at the end of my tunnel At aged seventeen, I fell in love again. He was so sweet So caring Took his time to understand my problems I planned my future around him At aged eighteen, My future is shattered In a dark place I am tempted to pick up that blade And the future i planned with him Has gone up in smoke What a terrible eighteen years, where did the happiness go of my four year old self. What a terrible existence. What a terrible way to die. Oh how tragedy portrayed me. Oh no, another teen sob story.

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A Late Bloomer

I couldn't keep my eyes away Her curves so captivating Her smile. In such dingent place It filled the room with a warm glow Such a troubled soul So happy I watched her beam in her work Grow like a flower If I could be her water How beautiful a flower She would bloom into

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Eaten

Society devalues men When it comes to love Displaying them as ungrateful Unfaithful, animalistic and brutal But a man may be able to kill someone by breaking their spine Or their skull But only women can kill someone by breaking their heart. Society plays up women as tradgedys victims But women are as viscous as the come Let her into your bed But not into your heart She'll eat you alive In more ways than one

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The Unappreciated

I'd trade all my tomorrow's To stay like this Because, I believe you can Fix my shattered pieces. Or so I thought.

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The 'Rut'

Sleeping at 4am

Waking at 6pm

I never see you any more

I haven't seen you in a long time

Pale, dark circles

Blood shot eyes,

From the sleepless nights

Crying over something

I can't remember

Unorganized, hurtful and discouraged

Lying in bed

Hoping for something to make me smile.

I sit in my rut,

With no motivation to free myself.

I can't see a way out

Cried a helpless teen.

With my world climbing and crumbing around me

Progressing further, leaving me behind

In my own 'rut'

Of low teen self esteem

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