I Bleed Words Sometimes

Posts tagged “poem

Desolate

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People are desolate,
Lonely islands walking about,
They lay barren
In the wake of the destruction.

People are foolish,
Blinded,
By their own selfish desires,
Unheeding, they pass each other by.

People are people,
Consumed by the worry of what the future holds
Engulfed in the past,
Sweet irony.

People are desolate,
Lonely islands walking about,
Oh, how they lay barren!
In the wake of the destruction called Life.

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Artist For Both Pictures ~ Nigel Van Wieck

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You Smell Of Memories

Saul Leiter

 

You smell of memories,

And when I’m with you,

The scent of sadness permeates the air,

Leaving me gasping for breath.

 

You smell of yearning,

You smell of lust,

You smell of longing,

You smell of thirst.

 

Darling, you smell of me.

 

Saul Leiter

Both PC: Saul Leiter

 

 


Too much

1625467_942696235761024_3658108102813100371_nPC – Anastasia Smurova.

 

Sometimes we love people too much,

Love is responsibility.

Love is ache waiting to be felt.

Love is a tragedy in the making.

Love is beautiful.

Love makes you do all the things you yourself wouldn’t approve of.

Love pushes you to the point that you do not recognize yourself.

And if that love is poison to someone.

It’s best to let it go.

Sometimes we love people too much to keep them in our lives.


Failing Completely

Édouard Boubat

She fell in love. From the moment they first argued and she saw herself losing. She lost to no one and yet, here she was falling and failing completely. not knowing what hit her. Love. May be.

The sweet sting of losing yourself to someone, the rope slipping through your fingers and the deep valley below calling out to you like a hungry lover. Hah! she was falling, she was failing completely.

The seemingly everlasting nights, welcoming the sun light like a mother embracing a child after a long day at school. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t lay awake without having him traverse her thoughts, to and fro. she was falling, my friend, she was failing completely, not knowing what hit her.

Love, that’s what.
 Édouard Boubat

Video Games

typewriter poem


It Takes Nothing

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It takes nothing…

It takes nothing for me to lose myself in you,

It takes nothing for me to melt away in your hold,

It takes nothing for me to be mesmerised by your sweet, velvet voice,

It takes nothing.

It takes nothing for me to go from loving you to despising your every breath,

It takes nothing for me to go from having you as my universe to shredding it to pieces,

It takes nothing for me to go from worshiping you to hating your every goddamn word,

It takes nothing.

You see… my love,

It takes nothing for me to go from being overjoyed by this life to being miserable and wanting it to end.

It really takes nothing.

I danced with joy in the rain today and then it saddened me.

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Detached

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I feel distant,
Removed,
As though, I do not belong.
Worse, I never did!

Love shouldn’t feel like that, should it?
Is it me running away?
Or are the waves receding?
I’m left utterly despondent.

I fear abandonment.
I fear helplessness.
I fear being me.
I fear.
And fear makes us do all sorts of crazy things.