Lost Words
A Collection of What I Threw Away
When the sun goes down,
I like to lay on sunrise sanctums
Forget-me-nots sing in the sun
freeing the blue inside me
Stop talking to me like you know how the sun turns.
Like you know anything more than what's under the bed.
Why are you blind, why are you deaf.
Read my lips and tell me I’m crazy.
The screaming sensation of bleeding acid and hopelessness.
Make the corners of my eyes tremble until they burst.
A wink of a thought
Empty food falling through an empty throat
Paranoid cracks in the concrete
Sleepless in Seattle with no way home
She doesn’t like your eyes
Not that she can see them
A crinkling band of flames
Silk orange scarves and golden veils
Hypnotising amber eyes
With the enchanting music that lulls you to sleep
The ash which was smitten on the log
Became delicate snow
Loam the grass and the green
Seeds spread far and wide in the wind
The crying wisps of child age
Polluting arcades with the violet cries of GAME OVER
I despise to touch
but cannot avoid the urge.
A brown-spotted time bomb
Who I love dearly
Raindrops race down windows
The thunderous sound of drums echo in the clouds
An abridged branch brushing against the wall
Let me guide the rays of sunshine to your pitiful locks.
Sunflowers and dandelions look too much like light in your eyes.
Sweet scented marshmallow flakes in tear-eyed, glass-stained windows.
I see us dancing
In the kitchen while silence plays on stereo
Your laughter is contagious,
I fall asleep to your sound
The eyes of a doe, so beautiful and brown
Wide and innocent, hypnotised by headlights.
Speaking into the lost words inside.
I hope you’ll remember me as the girl with the butterfly mask.
Afternoon caskets and pearly underwear
Stolen behind sheaths of silver and snow
I’ll live my life like a book
A poem being rewritten everyday
And if I’m gonna be honest
I gonna need a little strength to breathe
I do want to live my life by the sea
My heart is an out-of-tune piano
The songs that make no mistakes or inflections
pluck my heartstrings
When the sun goes down,
Is there any use in trying to find yourself
When there’s only all of you left to see?
About the Creator
Mya Doerksen
Hi there, I'm a student, a writer and an aspring author. At the moment I'll mostly be posting shorts, school assignments or challenge submissions.
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Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis3 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
Very nice poetry