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Nevermore It wasn't youNevermore by ~NotFarFromBroken
who caught me this time
folded me into arms
too warm for comfort
and filled with meaningless joy
I have lost it
I don't grovel, I don't beg
But I sit here waiting for you to speak.
It's not you again
and it never will be
you have sealed your lips
with infinite pitiless words
and turned your eyes away.
I have searched for more
I don't grovel, I don't beg
But I am left to cobweb thoughts of shame.
It wont be you
who collects the ash
that burnt from my chest
when there was nothing
and made me smile death
I have found the end
I don't grovel, I don't beg
But I have learned to master saying goodbye.
A Poem, In Short I was a childA Poem, In Short by ~NotFarFromBroken
When first I learned
Of what love was to be
Of fairy tales
And princes
Of kisses and of dreams
I learned that men;
if strong and good
would come along
and rescue me
My Prince,
when he would come
would carry me away
I would live and laugh
And Love...
Life would be complete
I was a girl
When I learned
What it could truly be
I learned of pain and sadness
Of all lifes misery
I learned that there are times
A dream is not a dream
I learned of lies
And deceit
Of anger and defeat
My Enemy,
would rest his head beside me
and take away my hope
Shatter my every dream
And Love...
Would never truly be
My Survivor Tears crash, flowing down your cheeks.My Survivor by ~NotFarFromBroken
You are frail, you are weak.
I want to hold you, I want to comfort you.
Your body is shaking.
I know what happened, you don’t have to speak.
I know what you’re saying, without saying a thing.
I want you to know why I feel what I do.
I’m lonely and scared, and frightened for you.
They say you weren’t there, they say you lie.
I wish you had never even opened your eyes.
No man or woman should suffer so much.
You soul could crumble with just one touch.
The horrors you saw, I can never erase.
But maybe, just maybe, I can help you through.
My heart is filled with only l
Aftermath I’ve become defiledAftermath by ~NotFarFromBroken
Buried in this pit of words
You can’t see me cry
My body’s been interred
In the requiem I write
About our torrid dedication
I promise not to mention
Our moments hesitation
I’m bleeding to death
And you can’t even see
My flesh is burning off
You won’t wait for me
In the elegy to come
There will be no fabrication
Simple facts of what we became
After our stinging altercation
The Thing About Cliches I.The Thing About Cliches by ~summernightangel
If this were a cliché,
A poem, or both
It would be about sparkling midnight skies and heartbeats and flowers and sex.
There would be oceanic eyes and rain that tastes like tears. We’ll throw in anxiety-riddled murmurs and metaphorical bullets and allusions to sharp objects for pity.
This is not a cliché anymore.
So instead I wrote about the flavor of emerald and the fragrance of April hope. I painted pictures of a perfect pencil, poised over a blank page.
II.
If this were a romance,
A message in a bottle, or both
It would still be cliché, to capture electric fingers and longings locked away with skeleton keys
Satisfied 
