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Stifled LoveYou stand in front of them,
And oh, how their eyes seem to shine
Back at you,
And you feel such an urge just to lean
Over and kiss them,
Yet, you hold back,
For they are simply taken,
And your heart cannot be
Taken from you, for they
Already grasp another.

You grin,
And act like nothing is wrong,
But ever time they speak
Of their lover's name,
Your heart shrivels up,
And cries out to them.

But you keep your mouth shut,
And stifle the pain,
For you cannot be loved back,
No, not someone like that,
For you simply do not deserve your only love...

YouYou are the source of all my happiness,
The root of all my pain.
A bitter sweet love I seem to have for you,
But when I think of the things you have done,
Then back to myself,
I wonder why it had to be you...
You of all people, I fall for,
Deep and slowly, although fully aware.
I talk to you and I think my heart stops,
A joyous feeling, oh so happy indeed,
But when I remember you have somebody else,
A part of me whines, and cries and dies,
Silently as I wince from the hole forming in my heart,
A put on a smile,
And pretend its alright.

WordsA kind word can heal a simple wound
While a hurtful oath can just bring about a thousand more.

Scraped HeartWhen I was a small child,
I would ride my bike, just outside my home
On the cobblestone and try to balance with accuracy.
Now and again, I would fall, and scrape my knee.
Mama would always come running, her face twisted with worry
And hold me against her warmth, kissing my boo-boos,
Whispering so calming that "it'd be okay",
That I would "soon heal right back up".
Just as all small children do, I grew.
Life went on for me and Mama was sure enough
To be found correct, I did heal.
But now, knee scraping are not what I feel pain to...
When I try to balance out my love, and it all comes crashing down...
I surely scrape my heart, but

I Will Always ListenI'll always be here for you,
No matter what,
I'll be hear if you need to talk,
Rant and ramble on, I'm here to listen.

Judging, not a chance.
From the things I've seen,
Judging would do no one any good,
Only make manners worse if you ask me.

So, please,
Feel free to yell at the sky,
Slam your fist and curse
The world,

For I will sit content, listen
And absorb what you have to say.
Help, perhaps, if it is in my power,
Try, most definitely.

Trouble LurkingDeep in the shadows,
It lingers among us,
With a blade that glistens in the moonlight
And a heart no different from a snake's.

Stalking you solemnly,
Dodging your field of view with
Chipped lamp posts and mailboxes
Filled with your very thought.

The stone brick sidewalk appears to
Pop under your feet, pebbles exploding
Under your weight, feeling heavier than
Usual, and masking your assailant's approach.

And finally you come to a dead end,
Startled suddenly as a misty figure becomes
Visible before your eyes, and whispers so raspy:
"Wrong path you seemed to have taken, my dear,"

And with that, the figure stabs you silently,

MemoriesScrambling through memories,
Lost without a sense of time.

All of now seems meaningless,
And parts of me wish to return to what once was.

But, gazing upon these memories only
Bring back heartache,

It only makes me remember:
"You are a liar. You cannot be trusted.

You've let more down then you've put up,
And what a devious thief you can be too."

So, with a blink of the eye,
With the rolling of salty tears,

You forget,
Only to continue your horrific ways.

StitchingTrails of broken hearts,
Cracked, shattered, even just a bit scratched,
And oh how I try to stitch them back together,
Pin them lightly at first,
Just as any tailor of hearts would I suppose.
Then, I embroider the pieces,
Slowly, carefully, ever so cautious to not tear it.
But, as they say, I appear to be the one who
Rips these poor hearts' seams in the first place,
And I call back into my corner,
Needle and thread in hand,
And simple disappear...

Do You Think of Me?Dar tu, te-ai gândit la mine?
"Do you think of me?", this means in Romanian,
For I believe English is not a language in which my love for you,
My endless stream of thoughts and everlasting compassion
Towards you are expressed,
For there are absolutely no words in the English language
To determine how much I utterly care, how insanely compelled
I am when I hear one mention your name, when you speak
In your soft voice that can only be compared to one of an angel's,
Yet even that comparison is not remotely close.
A girl such as yourself, someone so sweet and other adjectives
I would name if your imagine did not leave me speechl

Breathe AgainAnd you swim to the surface,
Hands mounted on outstretched arms
And breaking the slickest of barriers,
Then a burst of God's ingredient to life
Trembles down around you in a curtain of realization.
Your lungs implode just before water
Floods your system, and carbon dioxide is released
Gently into the precious air your lungs so badly
Crave above.
A breath and rejuvenation of the mind, soul,
And your very body itself.

When You ThoughtHave you ever believed so much in something?
Became so attached to a belief,
A statement, and person or object
Or perhaps even an event or happening?
You put all your faith and belief into this,
Only to watch it shatter before your feet,
As if it had meant nothing to you at all.

If you have none done or seen these things,
I highly recommend you stray away from repeating
The mistakes of the before.

And Now I SeeSimple, isn't it?
Wake up, eat, live, and go back to sleep.
We do this, everyday, nonstop.
This is life,
But stop, read between the lines
Of life for a moment.
What do you see?
Is it love? Or hate?
Or any other emotion here,
But I can tell you this:
It is not balanced.
But what does balance mean?
The equal proportions of something,
Correct?
Is there balance in today's society,
With all this war and love?
Which do we do more of?
Seems like hate, right?
Or is that love?
It souly depends on who you are,
Nothing more, Nothing less.

A Letter Written From BloodShe saw it from the beginning...
She saw the signs,
You bleeding yourself and the endless stream
Of negative remarks upon your life...
She mourns you, mourns you to this day,
Just as we all do inside...

I may not have met you, me the author,
although I know if I had,
It certainly would have been an honor.
She said your laugh was that of an angel's,
Golden, rich and pure, wholesome with soul,
Or that of which you managed to squeeze out.

Your parents, the very ones who brought you
Into this world, they seemed to contribute
To your certain downfall, and I for one shun them,
As you and her must do as well.

How was it your fault t

DrowningI reach up,
But my hand grasps the nothingness
That is around me.
I cry out-
So painful and sorrowful,
But no, no one hears me,
And ones who do
Wouldn't care even the slightest bit.
Surrounded by the horror,
As I am sucked in further,
The life forced out of me,
Like God's hand squeezing my soul
From my body, and I gasp-
And drown soundlessly,
Forever lost...

Time is FreedomIs it worse to find yourself with
So much time,
Yet so little freedom,
Compared that to one who has so little time,
And so very much freedom to spend?

You can be so chained up,
Caged, prisoner of your own world,
All the time in the world with nothing
To waste away the hours but sit
Solemnly and stare king and hard, at nothing
In particular.

Or,
You can be free as a bird,
Allowed to wallow as you please
And quite honestly, when and wherever
You feel drawn to.

Now I would usually say that it is your
Choice,
But is it really?

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Gay, Straight, Or BiSo what if they like the same sex,
Or even both?

Is it really in your power to judge them
For something they cannot control?

So why do you tease them,
Be so awfully rude and hating?

Is it on your mind that these things hurt,
That they are people too?

So what if they act differently,
And all you do is judge?

Does it occur to you that these people
Kill themselves because of your remarks?

Whether you are gay, straight or bi,
We are still all human,
We still all have feelings,
We will not change who we are,
So you must learn to open your mind,

And accept.

The Good of the WorldWhy do people always exclaim,
And oh so loud and frequent do they
Say that there is no good left in
The world, but how can that be?

Ah, but they do not realize something
I have recently discovered,
Something that let's me live
In solitude, and udder happiness.

You can only see the
Good of the world if you
Search for it, look past
The bad, because happiness does not lie unhidden.

Something bad will always come your way,
But as dreadful as it is,
It is only an opportunity to find
Something new, and something better within.

Look To The SkyI told her:
"Forever I have waited for you,
Forever, I've looked to the sky,
Wished with my soul and heart,
For someone to come my way
So my lonesomeness would flee,
And how my blood was spilled upon
That starry night of
Gray furred clouds."

She cooed,
Happy as can be,
Yet cried as she pulled away from me,
Unable to talk,
Unable to see me.

I told her:
"Look to the sky,
Look far into it,
Deep and hard.
But only if you listen
Will you hear me,
Hear my cries.
For the sky never forgets,
Neither will I."

SometimesSometimes I feel like I have lived a full life,
Done and gone,
Finished well, lived quite nicely.

Though my goals have not been yet finished,
I'm sure one may take them on
Someday, just as I have.

Sometimes, I feel ready for the cold arms
Of Death to carry me away,
His circular heart beating,
Forever worn, forever tired.

So Sad, SadnessSo sad, isn't it?
So sad, so many in despair,
So far down,
So past help,
So far, no one to help.

So let me be there,
So let me help,
Sew your soul together
So you remain alive,
So many happy, aren't you glad?

LabeledWe've all heard it from one time to another,
Most experienced it as well,
Constantly, we are labeled, whether it be
From our looks, or how we may first
Act around a newcomer.

Try to act humble and quiet,
You are labeled as weak.

If you can do just about anything decent,
Of quality or acceptance,
You're labeled as a showoff.

So often it happens,
For all I care, we can just be packed up,
Shipped away to yet more pointless duties.

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Submitted: April 13, 2012
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Feelings Inside

by ~idoartguy, Apr 13, 2012, 6:52:24 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Yet again you feel it within yourself,
Like a twisting pain, sharp, and
Meaningful.
You somewhat enjoy it, the pain, for
It brings color to a dull world that you see.
Is it jealously?
Perhaps, although there is no reasonable
Thought that comes to mind as to why it
Would be.
It doesn't go away, but when it does,
After much will and forcing out,
You think that you have conquered it,
And if it may ever return again,
It will be easy to rid of and ignore,
However, that never seems to be the case.