This is probably the shortest poem I've written so far, but I really liked the concept and wanted to do it. I hope you enjoy this and share it! Here is a list of things she smelled of: Sunlight. Beginnings. Expensive perfume. Hot chocolate. Feelings. and a list of things she looked like: A crisp … Continue reading A list of things about her.
Life is a bright sun, but it is also a tornado. These are not real stories, but the problems are real. Also, these are two different stories. I hope we survive. She was only eleven when this had happened. It was a sunny afternoon and she wanted to play with her friends in the park. … Continue reading Life.
Mirages and ink bottles. I am a pen. This might sound like a metaphorical exaggeration, or an ornamented fact, but it is what I am. Every time I hear the same song that you loved on the radio, it's like a cut on the side of my arm, and the ink just flows out. Every … Continue reading Mirages and ink bottles.
Is it just me who's blind, Or did the world go blind too? I don't know where, or how to look for the answer, without my eyes. The wind can speak, And the leaves can gossip. The sun can giggle, And the clouds can cry. How has this remained a secret for so long? Every … Continue reading A new shade.
There are some things that bother me every night after 2 AM, after I listen to music with lyrics that do nothing except reminding me that you'll never be mine. It bothers me that I'll never love someone this way ever again. Love changes everyday, and it bothers me that you'll never be my constant. … Continue reading 11:11s.