Learn more about other poetry terms
Another me There was another me But not the better me, But so carefree, A better me, That’s who I am today, So secluded that I may be A better me, I brought
I know I might sound superlicious and act so damn delirious Even I find it mysterious Everytime you come around You bring the cataclysm in me makes things even more ambiguous Sometimes I become oblivious
And like that she became wet. Undressing before she bathed in the storm. Umbrella left home, by the door. She wanted to be cleansed. Clothes thrown to the side. Where's the fun in being dry.
I see her The drunk girl Happily stumbling into each friend Smile wide Eyes just a bit too glossy She’s happy.
She feels lighter, somehow Something soft and gentle in my arms The same pink mouth and doe-eyes The same soft skin on the back of her neck
People come and go leaving behind memories and more, Leaving behind impressions not soon to be forgotten. You go about making bonds with others, To help, To hold,
The first notes, they tickle my eardrum, As the cares of my world slip away. The music swells and it deepens to naught My fingers keep time, try to play, The keys on a piano, the flute wails in treble,
You looked and behold, Over the horizon approaching fast, Engulfed by the orange beauty of the sunset, you saw a man. A man approaching slowly like a viscous liquid, And fast as light.
What would you say,If you woke up one day,And all your troubles seemed to drift away,As if they overstayed their stay.And let you out of their chaotic array.What would you say,If on that same day,
It's weird to think I used to hate myself. Look in the mirror, cringe and coil away from myself. Ripping apart the person that is me. Wishing away every little blemish and piece of skin.
So many lessons cannot be taught but experiencedLi
I try to stay away from you But you keep on coming back I see the desperation but I do not give a flack You're a crazy creepy stalking pig who I want far, far away but you just seem to return to me
Each sweater dangles merrily in the closet, without worries, brushing sleeves. Some days, I become envious. I separate the plastic hangers that suspend each carefree sweater