writer – Page 11 – Tsunami of Words

many years

i used to wish i was dead now i want to hold you until the day i take my last breath and that would be many years from now. t.l. maybe we could stay like this for another 50 years.

truly and deeply

when your hands reach for mine in your sleep, i know this must be what it feels like to be loved truly and deeply. t.l.

my poems are getting darker like a winter’s night cold and frosty if i’m not careful i could trip and fall on these slippery words if i’m not mindful i could live in them forever. t.l. maybe i will like that better

cure(less)

i wanna be cured again i wanna smile and not feel like my face is melting down my neck i wanna be strong, but i was born weak i don’t wanna miss you, but i get sick whenever you’re gone i wanna forgive you, but does that mean i don’t care anymore i know you’reContinue reading “cure(less)”

boiled water

a friend told me that we’re all boiling these pots they stand for different parts in our lives family, friends, career, love and self but all i think is you so how can keep all these fires going and i feel like i always put myself last or maybe i worked hard to boil theContinue reading “boiled water”

write more please

finally a moment to wind down but how did i manage to go there again and again tears are pouring down and i’m surrounded by loneliness and that’s when i start writing. t.l.

ocean

now I understand how it’s like to get lost in someone’s eyes like you’re gasping for air every second of the way like your knees turn into water and you could hardly make a sound you wanted to stand your ground but you’re flowing towards her like all streams to the ocean. t.l.

wrong-sized ring

when you tried to fit a ring that doesn’t fit, you could lose all sensation in your finger or the ring would fall out forever. t.l. the same goes for a wrong lover.

3:21

when life suddenly hits you started to ask am i too fucking sensitive ? all the things that you did stayed in your mind forever like an old scratchy cd playing the embarrassing past over and over again like eating breakfasts you keep lying to yourself that as long as you have one of thoseContinue reading “3:21”

poetry

poetry is where clouds grow on trees poetry is where there’s no misery poetry is where i get praised for being needy poetry is where death is pretty poetry is where love isn’t scary poetry is where i can be my darkest self poetry is where i am most like me. t.l. that’s why iContinue reading “poetry”