Old classics,
lilac air-fresheners,
the half cup of
peppermint ice cream
that’s been
sitting in your freezer
for weeks, and cat litter.
He won’t eat anymore,
but there are
piles and piles
of dirty dishes
sitting in the sink.
He’s slowly
disintegrating
before your eyes.
You can wrap
your whole self
around his tiny bones
now.
You can hold him
like he used to hold you
all those years ago.
And you are angry.
You try to find
someone,
or something
to blame.
You hate doctors,
and you hate
November now.
November means
birthdays, diagnoses,
chemo treatments,
and realization.
You have to force yourself
to stop crying,
every da
Never Let Him Look South West by UntamedUnwanted, literature
Literature
Never Let Him Look South West
The distance between Dublin and Boston is approximately 3000 miles. You told me this when you were staring south west with the kind of madness I have only seen in sailor’s eyes when they lived in lighthouses too small for their giant ship dreams. It should have worried me, that glint in your eyes. I just dismissed it as one of your navigational tantrums.
When we went to the pub later that evening, you told me I should have the fish and chips, but the way you like it, with more vinegar and no tartar sauce. I said that made it too salty, and you told me that was how real sailors ate their fish. My reactions always were slow to your behav
Dear Stars,
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing their mother's cigarettes and their father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My best friend threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that someone like me was not supposed to have su
I’d love to love you if you let me
I’d quickly fall apart for you
I would take all that you found heavy
And bear your burden through and through
I’d love to thaw you out in winter
And see you smiling every day
Though you might act cold and bitter
I’d see the warmth you hide away
I’d love to lie with you through sunrise
I’d watch the colours change with you
I’d love to love you for my whole life
If you could only love me too
Sad poems need pretty titles. by DearPoetry, literature
Literature
Sad poems need pretty titles.
April was lungs weak of blue, and
scalpels held in heartless,
uncaring hands.
You told me you were no coward
that the seas and the oceans
whispered in your ears and told you
only the bravest of men
deserve to kiss their beds.
May passed too quickly.
No time for mourning
when I gained ten pounds
of pure muscle
holding up your stars.
People asked too many questions.
People told me I was strong.
One day in June
you woke up to a skeletal frame
that wasn’t yours and the biggest,
strongest ribcage I’d ever seen.
I had cornfields in my eyes;
You misplaced your anchor
and your mind.
She has that that heart stopping,
shiver bringing, panty dropping grin.
That eye popping, soul throbbing,
earth shaking skin.
Her mesmerizing, appetizing,
satisfying kiss.
Her show stealing, most appealing,
Faith healing lips.
Her oh so glorious, most gorgeous,
enormous bust.
Her shirt ripping, lips licking,
sheets gripping Lust.
Her flawless, thoughtless
lawless lifestyle.
Her smashing, harshly bashing,
no shaming evil smile.
Her tease brining, slightly clinging
Hip swinging frame.
Her love smoothing, mind loosing,
ear soothing name.