#originalpoem

[drowning-in-melancholy]

Dotted Lines

You make me

physically sick

you're the firing neurons

in my brain

a touch of eden

and me

heaven's oversight

when I wrote

I don't wanna be saved by you

I lied

but the world keeps going

it feels like I died

somewhere

along the dotted lines

in this gentle wind

in mid springs time

that is my delight

while

thoughts of you torture my mind

i am indeed

just a broken winged butterfly

and there's no angels on my side

so I cry on the cold tile

I can't seem stand up now

and there's no hand

that reaches for me

so I ask

how broken you have to be

to attach yourself

to someone

who only exists in your fractured mind?

you wield the power in god's realm

and his black tongue

speaks in riddles

that i can't hear

but I remain

till my bones turn to ash

and fire scorches the steps I take

still - i will walk through the blaze

for you

but I do not exist

in the world

you move through

and you never even knew

[mybeautifulbleedingpieces]

my hands remember moments,

tears silently shed,

prayers lifted up to the heavens

unpolished surfaces touched,

wounds caressed

and time kissing them shut

they remember how your skin quivered,

temperature rising, a gasp

a name escaping your lips—

not mine but someone else's

breaking me, burying me alive!

my hands refuse to forget

everything they've been through

and with my mind,

they travel down memory lane

back to the blood,

to the coarse writing paper,

to the wine spilled on my coffee table

things i have been trying hard

to forget just start floating

in my head, endless bubbles

of nostalgia and torture

the poetry i wrote for you,

the songs, the busy calendar,

the goodbye letters, the hurt,

they all come back in ripples

that i could not hide

from the madness,

the sudden surge of euphoria,

the long night of mourning,

the stains of yesterday!

katie, 23:31

[madmansmisc]

[hosmerose]

Waiting for the right one feels like war.

do you run towards the feeling or the person? Do you listen to yourself or your intentions?

-The right, by hosmerose.

[theautumnnkid]

once upon a time, there was no such thing.

they say fairytales exist

it's a beautiful dream

the needed love and the fantasy scene

but i look on and find it crap

a pipe dream and a total mishap.

that there is nothing like a perfect bliss

that it's just the fleeting moments.

all of this.

a castle built on the beaches sand

oh dear sculptor, it was a foolish hand.

the waves arrive and the tides roll

it all crumbles.

reality takes a toll.

not every lives the story of lizzy and darcy

some become the mia and seb,

love loses to dreams

not every allie gets her noah;

not every tom finds his autumn

long after the time of summer gone.

mum's told me stories, of rapunzel and cinderella

and snow white

their love so capable, it withered all the fight

but i think of that little mermaid

who lost her voice, her love made her wail

i saw the great gatsby yesterday

and saw how hearts make and break

and all of it made so sense as the past left a lasting wake.

i hear them say "i love you forever"

but words alone, can they really hold?

might not know anything, but all i know

is that i look on for a story

that's yet to be told.

~shiuli.

[willingprincess]

A Thirst for Devotion

I do not want the love that's mild,

A gentle sun, a breezy sky.

I want the storm that drives me wild,

The kind of love that learns to fly.

I want your thoughts to be a cage,

With every bar etched with my name.

A beautiful, unyielding page,

Inscribed with my possessive claim.

I want your pulse to beat my rhythm,

Your breath to hitch when I am near.

To be the scripture of your schism,

The source of every hope and fear.

I want to be the shadows where you linger,

The silent phone, the desperate wait.

The feeling of a single finger, a small gasp,

That seals a beautiful, dark fate.

So love me not with easy grace,

But with a hunger sharp and deep.

Let madness etch upon my face,

The vows your wounded soul will keep.

And in this romance we have made,

Where need and obsession twist,

I'll be the fire, you the shade,

And we will never be dismissed.

[musestongue]

In the House of Self-Undoing.

"As I'm locked inside my House of Self-Undoing. I read each room like a page in a book. It's a psychological horror written and distributed by the mind. The sharp whine of rumination comes from the kitchen. It pierces the back of my head. The pipes are busted, but the tears still flow through the decaying floorboards and rotted walls. 'But what about power?' Everything's sparking from years of crossed wires. And in the bathroom, there's a toilet that refuses to flush because it's so full of someone else's shit. All the mirrors are distorted, a product of neglect. The most intense chapter resides in the bedroom. There's a monster living under my bed that wears my face. It whispers the ways of self-sabotage to me like sweet lullabies in my sleep. Oh, and the attic? What an eerie place. Haunted by the presence of what once was, or rather, of whom once was. And vandalized by the words of another. I leave the cobwebs to decorate the halls as a comforting reminder of a connection lost. The doors, the curtains, and I? Indefinitely closed."

[olympianpoetrycollection]