[x]

Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

For every boy I ever kissedi.

you took my hand 'neath the magnolia
at a christmas dinner party I held.
your mouth was cold. so were my affections.

ii.

you were the first man to listen to me.
i let you listen to my heartbeat; but
when the day fell away, you bruised me deep.

iii.

you were my safe harbour, and i your storm
turning your misery to naught but air
but i squirmed away from your tongue, repulsed.

iv.

you were my cradle, when i couldn't sleep
you would hold me close and pray for something,
anything, to keep me safe. (it was you).

v.

eleven months spent sleeping with my phone,
i still couldn't believe when you kissed me
even after midnight struck us agai

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.

Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.

Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,

Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.

Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.

L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.

And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
crying
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
bullshit.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
in hell.
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
misconception.
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
a crowd
of murmuring lips of
god's will.
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
could hear.
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
with chiv

thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns are midnight requiems
That tell me to look beyond the
light and have &

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My DarknessMy heart is quite black;

My insanity rises.

You shouldn't trust me.

Brief But Strong AngerDoes anyone even care?

Do you even see me, or am I just a fucking freak to you.

Not worth your time; you liked me once, but then, when you were done,

I became that friend you keep out of guilt.

That piece of your past you want to lose, but it is tethered to you.

Like a damn ball and chain.

No one seems to see me, and I'm left to wonder.

Do they just see me as a person to avoid?

Or perhaps I was killed in whatever way,

So now I'm a ghost.

Forever alone.

I don't know, but who even cares anymore.

I feel the anger and loneliness seeping into my veins

Like a snakes poison.

This unbridled anger and bitterness on my part will probably

Mask Of LiesI put on this mask;

You see me bright and vibrant.

But it's all a lie.

Rip My Own Heart OutFuck this stupid shit.

I want to rip my heart out.

Because I don't care.

RageI am so angry;

Rage spreads like wild fire.

Let me feel nothing.

PreyMy eyes follow you

As you fumble in the dark.

You are easy prey.

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Fall To Pieces

by ~Tokyogirl122, Jan 5, 2013, 8:40:00 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I watch as the lives of the people who love me fall to pieces.

Because of me.

Always because of me.

It isn't because I treat them badly either;

Those people are precious to me and I treat them as such.

But they seem to slowly be in more pain...

Because they care for me.

I may not do it on purpose

But I have a habit of ruining the lives

Of those who love me the most...

Fall To Piecesby ~Tokyogirl122

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2013 ~Tokyogirl122

...

=saza11 Jan 5, 2013

I hope you don't feel that way in real life sweetie

Reply

~Tokyogirl122 Jan 5, 2013

There are times when I do..

Reply

=saza11 Jan 5, 2013

no sweetie ...if it is not your attention to do so then you are not and don't ever open the door for such feeling

Reply

~Tokyogirl122 Jan 5, 2013

I'll try not to. I am just very emotional and feel things very deeply... ^^'

Reply

=saza11 Jan 6, 2013

Great sweetie we are the result of our thoughts so always think brightly of your self

Reply

~Tokyogirl122 Jan 6, 2013

I will try my best, despite my low self esteem <3

Reply

=saza11 Jan 7, 2013

trying doesn't work sweetie ....doing is the answer ... I sure know how you feel ...I used to have that problem some times and still do ...but I figure out a way to limit it. first always forgive your self and remember that you are human and you are allowed to make mistakes like any one else... only dead people don't..... second ...there are no one is better or more valuable to you more than your self ...so learn to love your self and put more effort to know your self ..be honest with your self and love it ..forgive it ..

Reply

~Tokyogirl122 Jan 7, 2013

Thank you for that advice... It really helped me put things into perspective

Reply

!LightningFarron122 Jan 5, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Its not true

Reply

~Tokyogirl122 Jan 5, 2013

uh huh

Reply

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