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Cinderella
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    &
Browse More Like This

More from ~zboi94

She'll never be afraidI know I'm not her type
Happiness fooled by hype
Everyone loves her so much
Her and my lips really touch
A mistake I will remember
A forgotten deceased ember
She won't ever be afraid
She was the one with the blade
A lie she upheld acting concerned
Emotions in my heart being churned
dismayI can only be described as a tool,
I'm cold and heartless and so cruel,
I've hurt you so much,
Yet I need your touch,
Realization always comes back,
Remembering your heart crack,
Gives my heart a strong twinge,
Just the thought makes me cringe,
I can't allow myself to forget,
One mistake I'll forever regret,
Why did I have to hurt you?
You were always so nice to me too.
I'm fineWhy can't the world just let me be?
If you'd let me, I could simply decree,
Just stop worrying about my well being,
I'm not weak or hurt, I'm just seething,
My heart is no simple piece of glass,
Your words of care are a whip's lash,
I enjoy living in a state of solitude,
So, just excuse my desire to seclude,
My mind is dark and yet, perfect.
Letting out emotions, without conflict,
All the drugs I refuse to save my mind,
Stop the fake act, your not really kind,
I'll vanish from your life intentionally,
You're bound to forget me eventually.

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I Am Loved

:iconzboi94:

I am loved.
More so than I realize
Loved by strangers
More so than my friends
But my name is known
And  I understand now
That there is admiration towards me
Although I refuse to see it
I cannot disprove its existence
I am cared for
By all my friends
Even the ones I was afraid to lose
I revealed my greatest fears
And they welcomed me into their warm embrace
I am normal
Not some sociopath that scared me so long ago
I am going to die
Perhaps younger than the average age
But we all die, it's a part of life
I am going to die
But I've mentally killed myself off to deal with my problems
There is no hope in life when you are already gone.
I'm coming back, I'm living my life however I want
Because in eighteen years I might not have that choice.
But for now, I will live as me.

55

2 4 5
:iconzboi94:

I Am Lovedby ~zboi94

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No one will read this, but here goes. I'm feeling better recently. I know this is gonna sound stupid but I found someone on the internet. Omegle to be exact. So we both created new email accounts and still talk. I don't know their name, age, or location. They don't know anything about me either. We just talk. And they listened to everything I ever had to get off my chest. And I talked about some of the things I had going on. And I realized I can't change them. And these are heavy things. Life or death things I'm talking about. I have no say, so I just always prepared for the worst. But, what if I do live? Would I really be alive? I mean I prepared for death and set myself to die, only to realize I could have been enjoying those last eighteen years of my life? So, here I am. And I still think about this one girl, but she doesn't want to date me. And that's ok, but now I'm torn, I want to just respect her decision and let her live her life. But another part of me wants to run up to her and kiss her and tell her flat out that she just has to trust me and know I won't ever break her heart. I cried last night for three hours and I think it detoxed me of my depression, seriously. Is that even possible?
©2013 ~zboi94
Category: Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

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:icon20artistinprogress13:
Mood: Affection ~20artistinprogress13 Jan 3, 2013
I'm absolutely ecstatic for you :) I wish everything would work out with this girl, but you've taken some amazing steps and I'm so glad you feel better.
Reply
:iconzboi94:
~zboi94 Jan 4, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks, I don't think things will work out with this girl. But then again I think maybe being single for a while isn't so bad either.
Reply
:iconwordweight:
~WordWeight Jan 2, 2013   Writer
Totally possible to detox out of depression by crying :D
Reply
:iconzboi94:
~zboi94 Jan 2, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I'm starting to believe it.
Reply
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