Captured Moments

Chris, Writer. Germany. Literature. Photography. sc_online_t(792163,"","7d7d7d"); Tumblr Users Online Counter

[love]

by Hannah Schmucker

[naturalcottage]

[sydneyxrose-deactivated20170623]

[llovinghome]

plum trees

[danielodowd-deactivated20170124]

[miscaptured]

I’m always afraid to be the one to love more. To want more. To be the one that stays behind. 

[miscaptured]

The moment I felt pain for the very first time I was spoilt, made unpure, ripped into an existence of human imperfection, of human weakness. I feel dirty thinking about all that troubles me. I wish I could beware you of realising what you already have.

[miscaptured]

We were somewhat sick, but that’s not what matters. Neither of us could ever draw but I envy you for the clearness of your writing. In one brutal tiny moment you all come together. It’s like knowing your way around a town that’s not yours. My mind is all chlorine now. I haven’t gone swimming in over a year. You were the special one. The talented one. You’re much too intelligent for your own good, but the lack of education makes you hard and steel and rust and Australia’s fucking sun. You could do what we couldn’t. I’m out of words and summer won’t get any deeper. I love you in the poppies on the untilled properties in goddamn Berlin. This is not supposed to be poetry, this is not supposed to be anything. I’m writing on dying graphite to bury the living.

[miscaptured]

in light yellow summer air

your love lies and

in it it deceases

drowns in pink 

sugar-coated dawns and dew

and the heavy sighs of evening primrose

unfolding

in blue cicada nights,

hand-painted.

[miscaptured]

strangers in the supermarket

goddamn german classes

no I can’t wrap my head around that

things are changing and changing

and it’s all because of her

I can’t breathe without you

I can’t be without you

It’s pathetic, really

how strange I feel around you

I surrender to your black nailtips

put an end to it, baby

[miscaptured]

something like it

Don't look at her (like that)

you have no right.

my poetry's bad

it's hard to rhyme.

I can't think straight.

Your hair turns auburn 

when spring arrives.

[miscaptured]

Above golden ceilings

the clouds barely touch the ground

gravel leads up to my palace now

heavy silk and marble hands

around my neck, enviably alive

in empty graves and dusty mirrors

I pretend to see myself

cinnamon and myrrh

in the suffocating loneliness

of emeralds and brass-colored bones

[miscaptured]

Sugar and alcohol

9 pm empty club

pink light all around my head

your taste on my tongue

but only imagined

sweet perfume, cheap as liquor

give me your hand and dance with me

[miscaptured]

The desert sky's sand is stuck

under your fingernails and in my hair

your kisses are like the coast's sharp wind

and we're light headed from the sun

I walk barefoot through white airport halls

looking back a thousand times

so often I feel like I'm twirling

and I never see your face

you're intertwined with the land

that is so different to you than to me

our travels are scratched knees and moroccan spice

you never liked

our love feels as empty

as the forgotten streets

of european capitals now

and our home in my head is blank 

like a page in a notebook

that has never been filled

we locked memories in amulets

and threw them out to sea

from ferries that we fled from ourselves with

never once looked into your eyes

all I see is the black pavement of the streets

you're summer that lasts all through winter

betraying me of snow

you're a travel diary lost in London's Central Station

that I'll never try to find again

I'll jump the train 

and I'll look back a thousand times

not finding your face

[radtracks]

Visit Original Link

i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you // kate nash

you are the girl that i’ve been dreaming of ever since i was a little girl

[miscaptured]

I don't know what to make of you,

the way you laugh,

your kaleidoscope eyes.

You're blinding,

you're the bricks in the streets back home.

You're something 

I'll never be allowed to touch. 

Your magic won't fade.

My memory will.

[miscaptured]

little shards of glass in the green of your eyes

your skin is made of sea foam

you've stolen from belgium's coast

and your bed's the only warm one

in our very empty room