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BotherIt's not a game.
She's gone away,
and no one even bothered to say,

"Will you ever return?"
When will they learn?
But no one bothered to say it to her.

I left on that day,
I went my own way,
but no one even bothered to say,

"I really love you."
I don't think it's true,
but I'd still say "I love you, too."

We all wonder why
she left us dry,
but we still didn't bother to say goodbye.

And neither did she,
not even to me.
At the very least, now, she's finally free.

I left them alone,
how can I atone?
Would I have stayed there, had I then known?

I can certainly tell
that all of us fell
when I didn't even bother to bid them farewell.
What a Shame"Love is out there somewhere for you. It will come in due time."

"Yes, I know," I respond with a frown and a roll of my eyes.

"No, you don't," the voice replies, an edge to its sound that was hidden well before. I flinch, although I am too used to that edge by now.

"Yes, I do. I've heard it all before. 'Love is out there waiting,' and 'There are plenty of fish in the sea.' I know, okay? I know, but that doesn't mean I care."

I hear the long-suffering sigh that I've become so accustomed to, and before the sigh turns into another speech, I speak again:

"I'm impatient and I'm impulsive. I want him. He's all I'll ever want," I say, though I
SpentThere's something that I want to say.
I've been trying to for days,
but I just can't figure out how,
so I guess I'll just start talking now.

You know well that I worry a lot;
I'm in a panic, more often than not.
But this is something especially bad,
this is about what we once had.

Do you recall what happened to us?
I just remember how we were both crushed,
but didn't want to say anything,
for fear of the words the other would bring.

I need to know if it's true, what you said.
Would you really want to see me dead?
You might've been able to, had he not come;
the one who saved me when I was numb.

I just want to know what you think of me,
wha
At SunsetIt's the end of another day, and I've come to realize just how worthless I really am.

I write. Some people seem to like it, but I don't.

I draw. A few people seem to like it, but I don't.

I sing. No one seems to like that, and neither do I.

I don't think anyone really knows the real me, and I'm glad that I've always been able to keep it that way. I'm more selfish than I let on. I'm not a good person. I hate who I am, and you should hate me, too. It's easy.

Never will I be able to talk to him. I guess that's okay. I don't deserve him.

Never will I be able to repay my friends. I take, and that's all I do. I never have, and never will be a
Puzzle PiecesI don't want to be
a puzzle piece
that just fits right inside.

I don't want to be
a difficult piece
you make fit by pounding on.

What I want to be
is that one piece
that everyone misplaces.

That lone piece that's lost
under the couch
or between the cushions.

That strange piece that
everyone hates when lost,
but adores when found.

That simple piece that
everyone wants
and everyone searches for.

That perfect piece that,
when found,
completes the puzzle perfectly.

That independent piece that
can easily fit,
but doesn't want or need to.

That free piece that
will appear to you
only when it's fully ready.

That one piece that
will change ev
200 Plastic StrawsTwo-hundred plastic straws
are scattered on my floor.
They haven't moved an inch
from where I dropped them there before.

A multi-colored frenzy
is dancing on my tiles.
Ghosts long past
come flying back
to stay there for a while.

The straws slipped through my fingers
and so, they all tapped down
like the movement of a second hand,
eternity, an hour.

They fell away, as does the past,
so pick up every piece.
Throw it away or use it well,
or its dance will never cease.

Two hundred plastic straws,
or at least, that's how it was.
Now a hundred ninety-nine lay there,
a pink one in my glass.
How to Save a Life"It's time for me to go now."

As if answering the girl's solemnly spoken words, the summer wind blew across the empty roof in an almost excited fashion. It blew her nightgown against her legs as she turned to face it. The night was lit brightly by the shining buildings and streetlights, but all of them seemed dim to her.

"Why?" an angry voice cried out behind her, and even though she knew he was going to react this way, she couldn't help but flinch.

"You know why," she replied, her tone eerily calm. It was at that moment that she felt a hand grip her bare arm roughly. She began to wonder whether he knew how much he hurt her, if he knew tha
Clear Tears and Vivid BloodAs I stared into the blackness,
I began to think and wonder:
"What if these tears are blood?
What if my blood is a river of tears?"

What if, in the darkness of night,
because of my impaired vision,
I am not able to be sure
of the color of my tears?

Perhaps, in reality, they are red.
The tears that are falling on my pillow
are not saltine water drops,
but rivulets of blood.

Should daylight eventually come,
everyone would be able to see
the bitter tears I'm crying
without a chance of hiding.

And what of the blood in my veins?
That, of course, is replaced
by the clear, clean water of tears,
salty, stinging, and invisible.

Should my skin be
Six Word Story: Love"Know what I love?"

"What?"

"You."
Writer's BlockI literally have nothing.

What?

Nothing to write about.

You just have Writer's Block.

What the hell is 'Writer's Block'?

How do you not know what Writer's Block is? I thought you were a writer.

Some writer. What is it, exactly?

It's when you can't get inspired; everything you write seems like crap by the second sentence. You can't think of any ideas for something to write, and end up staring with frustration at a blank page and a blinking cursor.

Sounds accurate.

Oh, and that's not all! If it goes on for too long, you fall into a slight depression and lose your will to write. Until you can find inspiration, it gnaws and destroys your
Seasonal Haikus: AutumnLeaves fluttering down,
I look toward the blue sky,
clear, no clouds in sight.

Under my sneakers,
leaves on the ground crunch loudly
as I run outside.

The green grass is masked
by orange, red, and brown leaves--
they're like butterflies.

Grab a rake and run
to the most leaves you can find,
make a giant pile!

Jump in, hear the crunch.
Feel the scratchy sensations
of leaves in your clothes.

Smell the dirt and leaves,
a scent unpleasant to some;
for you, wonderful.

A strange, unique smell--
like the scent of hickory,
the tree in the yard.

Leaf bits in my hair,
I climb out of the huge pile
and brush myself off.

I get in the house,
cheeks
Fine"Hey," she asked, "are you okay?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"Huh? Sorry, what did you say?"
"Nothing, I just said I'm fine."
Breaking ApartLets pretend that I'm
not so happy after all.
That all the wall's around
me are beginning to fall.

What would you say?

Would we fake our grins
and laugh at the flaws,
or close our eyes and
let the tears fall?

Let me hold you close,
remind you that I love
you the most, extend my
hands and slide to the ground,
where we try not to make a sound.

I love this world that
we live in,
We wear fake skins just
to fit in.

Maybe some day we won't
all just pretend,
realize that everything is
only false pretensions,

Fall asleep, and never wake
again.
Fleeting Memories of a Dream Long PastFor thirty-three years, it was ours,
and then, to us,
it met its end.

It is no longer ours, and that feeling...
That feeling is the strangest thing.
We cannot explore the mysteries of its land,
or walk across the old white bridge.

It is gone.

So many memories.
Falling into the pond,
feeding the fish with the leftover stale bread,
learning to tie my shoes in the little gazebo,
falling down the steep hill,
serving hors d'oeuvres,
throwing parsley on the dishes for all the people to eat.

I remember just how to set up the tables:
two forks on the left, a knife and a spoon right.
Glasses, and a cloth napkin inside.
Five saucers and coffee cups
CrowsNothing's changed, we're still alone and while
crows fly high, we stand our ground.
The sky is black and the door is open,
but can we choose to make it through?

Save your strength for now,
we'll be fine, my love, just wait
And I know that's what you hate,

But soon we'll be inside,
the room is lit and we won't say goodbye
to this life we've made.

Pull together, don't be scared
Though the night is dark as the wind grows strong
The bond we have is all we'll need to
fly away from this wretched place.

Spread your wings for now,
imagine the skies
and so, soon we will rise.

In a world where humans race,
all power-hungry and selfish,
we have mad
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More from ~SourAir

Fine"Hey," she asked, "are you okay?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"Huh? Sorry, what did you say?"
"Nothing, I just said I'm fine."
At SunsetIt's the end of another day, and I've come to realize just how worthless I really am.

I write. Some people seem to like it, but I don't.

I draw. A few people seem to like it, but I don't.

I sing. No one seems to like that, and neither do I.

I don't think anyone really knows the real me, and I'm glad that I've always been able to keep it that way. I'm more selfish than I let on. I'm not a good person. I hate who I am, and you should hate me, too. It's easy.

Never will I be able to talk to him. I guess that's okay. I don't deserve him.

Never will I be able to repay my friends. I take, and that's all I do. I never have, and never will be a
BotherIt's not a game.
She's gone away,
and no one even bothered to say,

"Will you ever return?"
When will they learn?
But no one bothered to say it to her.

I left on that day,
I went my own way,
but no one even bothered to say,

"I really love you."
I don't think it's true,
but I'd still say "I love you, too."

We all wonder why
she left us dry,
but we still didn't bother to say goodbye.

And neither did she,
not even to me.
At the very least, now, she's finally free.

I left them alone,
how can I atone?
Would I have stayed there, had I then known?

I can certainly tell
that all of us fell
when I didn't even bother to bid them farewell.
Lacrimosa: PrologueThrough the thick, moonlit forest she ran, dark satin trailing behind her. In the distance, a bright building could be seen, but it was far gone and she could not go back anymore. Her heels sinking into the damp, cold earth with every step, she ran on, not even knowing where she was going. Her raven black hair tangled and framed her face, intricate clips falling out one by one.

She ignored the sound of her expensive dress ripping and the footsteps walking at a slow pace behind her. Despite her quicker speed, she knew she wouldn't escape.

The young woman was suddenly filled with adrenaline, and she decided to keep running although her high h

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:iconsourair:
Didn't mean to make this so depressing... XD
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:iconthatfunnierpiece:
!ThatFunnierPiece Apr 1, 2013
Oh, the persistence of love. True, resonant, and given in a surprisingly enjoyable form. Excellent.
Reply
:iconsourair:
~SourAir Apr 1, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks so much, I'm glad you enjoyed reading it!
Reply
:iconavengerkitty12:
~AvengerKitty12 Mar 31, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Beautiful (:
Reply
:iconsourair:
~SourAir Mar 31, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks~! ^^
Reply
:iconsleepingintheshadows:
=SleepingInTheShadows Mar 20, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
I absolutely adore this. The rhyme scheme is perfect and the emotion is very evident. It's very relatable and I feel you executed the shift perfectly. Just flawless.
Reply
:iconsourair:
~SourAir Mar 20, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks so much, I appreciate the feedback, and I'm glad you like it! :D
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:iconsleepingintheshadows:
=SleepingInTheShadows Mar 20, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Your very welcome. :D
Reply
:iconyukiawison:
~YukiAwison Mar 18, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I love this, it's really pretty. :heart:
Reply
:iconsourair:
~SourAir Mar 18, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks, I'm glad you like it. :heart:
Reply
:iconektomaluja:
Mood: Love ~Ektomaluja Mar 13, 2013
This poem depicts the feeling infatuation for someone even though they may not like you back exactly!
Love it!!!! You are an AWESOME writer.
Reply
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