We deserved a better ending than the one we were given,
Better than the one we ourselves had written.
I prayed for you not sin against me
But even when you did
You knew by God and I you would
always be forgiven,
I can't seem to exist in resentment.
I've tried a thousand times
To hate you when you've looked me in the eyes
And just casually lied.
How much I've convinced myself that I love you
should be a punishable crime.
I thought I knew how you felt,
That was until I saw you in the arms of someone else.
The degree of pain you've brought is intolerable,
I want my memory to be permanently stained on you
like it's not washable.
I must've been a temporary distraction
Before you decided you were done and went missing in action,
I prefer face to face relinquishment
I know that's probably too old-fashion.
I keep reflecting
Trying to see where I went wrong,
The coldest melody would be you
If you were miraculously translated into the form of a song.
You're inconsistent,
So I started to look at myself different and create some distance,
From the woman I once was
To the many women I transformed into
for you.
I've learned to tone down my shivers,
I can control my tears to where they flow gentler
than the calmest river.
When the day comes and you
tell your closest companions,
"I really miss her,"
Embrace the sting in your throat from the liquor,
And when they tell you,
"It's best if you just try to forget her,"
You'll take another drink,
Then you'll realize the thought of having lost me is more
strenuous to swallow and that the glass to your lips
With all the bitterness it contains,
Somehow has a sweeter taste.
With erasable writing utensils, I sketched our departure time and time again,
But the entire time I didn't know you were writing in pen.
I was the initiator for our beautiful beginning,
But you were the author of our odious ending.
About the Creator
Neish
Hi! I’m Aneisha. I'm the author of the blog--We'll Talk About It! It releases every Tuesday. You can also find some short stories and poems I used to write, while you're waiting for the next blog post. <3
Instagram: @aneishabrackens
"An Orchestra of American Excellence"
In the core of the immense American spread, Where skies paint dreams with shades gigantic, There lies a vista, a sight divine, Where nature's beauty and workmanship join. In Yosemite's hug, the mountains take off, Their tough pinnacles, Grand from there, The sky is the limit, An orchestra of greens and gold’s, Where stories of old terrains unfurl. Through Fantastic Gorge's gap, Waterways wander, Cutting murmurs in stone, An old book, Layers of time revealed, Uncovered, in each cleft, a story forced. Along the shores of Acadia, waves dance, Their cadenced tides, a mesmerizing daze, Where bluffs meet ocean in quiet veneration, A work of art of seaside polish. In the core of Yellowstone's wild hug, Fountains emit, A heavenly elegance, Painting the sky with warm tones, A scene that eternity follows. From the moving slopes of Tuscany, California. To the blazing sparkle of Arizona's Sahara, America's vistas, each a material interesting, Welcome the spirit to meander and dare. So let us wander these terrains untamed, Where magnificence and marvel stay unchained, In each vista, a brief look at the heavenly, In the immortal scenes of the American line. In the core of the tremendous American region lies a perpetual embroidered artwork of magnificence, Woven with strings of miracle and painted with shades that oppose the creative mind. From the transcending pinnacles of the Rough Mountains to the peaceful shores of the Incomparable Lakes, Every vista murmurs privileged insights of the land, Welcoming investigation and consideration. In the hug of the Smoky Mountains, Fog grips to the valleys like a sweetheart's hug, Relaxing the rough edges of old pinnacles. Daylight channels through the overhang, Dappling the backwoods floor with brilliant kisses, While the tunes of birds weave songs that reverberation through the trees. Across the fields of the Midwest, Fields stretch to the skyline like an interwoven unique blanket, Sewed along with columns of corn and soybeans. The sky curves above, A huge territory of blue that appears to extend on everlastingly, Hindered simply by an intermittent surging cloud. In the deserts of the Southwest, The scene moves and changes like sand in the breeze, Etched by the hands of time into undulating rises and transcending plateaus. Here, the sun sets the sky burning with tints of orange and pink, Creating long shaded areas that dance across the desert floor. Furthermore, in the urban communities that ascent from the earth like landmarks to human resourcefulness, The lights of 1,000 windows sparkle like stars against the night sky. High rises go after the sky, Their glass exteriors mirroring the steadily changing horizon in a sparkling mosaic of steel and glass. In any case, maybe the genuine excellence of America lies in its scenes, However in the variety of its kin and societies. From the clamoring roads of New York City to the drowsy towns of the Profound South, Each side of this tremendous nation recounts an account of strength, imagination, and trust. So let us meander these scenes, both regular and man-made, With hearts open to the miracles that encompass us. For in each view, from the most noteworthy top to the humblest city intersection, There is magnificence to be found for those with eyes to see and hearts to feel.
By Nameless writer3 days ago in Poets
Vocal Weekly Leaderboard: 04/17/2024
Welcome to the weekly update of the Leaderboard! We're thrilled to showcase Vocal's most discussed stories, popular picks, and rising stars. Let's dive into this past week's standout contributors and their remarkable achievements.
By Vocal Teama day ago in Resources
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.