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7/30/2019 For Love Or Nothing: A Collection Of Typos And Favorites
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7/30/2019 For Love Or Nothing: A Collection Of Typos And Favorites
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L E A V E Y O U A P E N
F O R L O V E O R N O T H I N G:
A collection of typos & favorites
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I N D E X
SIGNAL SIGNS CIGARETTE EVERY NOW AND THEN THIS TIME YOU ARE MY FAVORITE TALENT 3 A.M. GIRL THIS POETRY FOREVER WORDS; POSSESSION FLOWER IN A FALLING VASE THE MENTOR NO PLACE TO HIDE HOPEFUL ROMANTIC WALLFLOWER LA ZONA UNFOLLOWED TORN BOYS WHO WRITE POETRY MERECER CATCHING
7/30/2019 For Love Or Nothing: A Collection Of Typos And Favorites
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WE ARE DEEP
IN WHAT
MAKES US WRITERS
7/30/2019 For Love Or Nothing: A Collection Of Typos And Favorites
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SIGNAL SIGNS
Silent vibrations running
up your nerves to tell your
brain a secret, her touch is
something unlike
anything youve
experienced before.
Unable to react, subtle to
subtract the sensation.
You begin to feel alive
with the slight signal signs
coming from her feel.
7/30/2019 For Love Or Nothing: A Collection Of Typos And Favorites
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CIGARETTE
This lonely cigarette
burning itself out, he knows
the consequences he brings
to his smoker which is why
he sits alone on this
desk. Its not his fault he
was born a cigarette. He can
only look on watching as he
gets shortened, the
passion ablaze inside
him. Wise little cigarette
knows his end is near. Wise
little cigarette your end is
nearly here.
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EVERY NOW AND THEN
Every now and then Ill always
be reminded about the
struggles that brought us here
to this very place. Every now
and then Ill remind myself
there still so many struggles to
overcome. But every now and
then Ill forget about the
struggling and reflect on what
it was I fought for Every now
and then I wonder about her
and what I would do for her
warmth.
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THIS TIME
Currently within these hours I begin
to seep down into my disgrace
and the clocks bring me back to a
place where I shouldnt exist.Ive
seen your face shining against the
light and its a feeling beyond my
body. I have tried to forget the sight
but it is so unforgiving. One step
away sets us apart from eternity and
the happiness I deserve. Those little
seconds that complete a life are
missing from the countdown to the
end. I am lost in the distance from
you.
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YOU ARE MY FAVORITE TALENT
I see you moving your pen, as it
swoops and loops and twirls in your
hand. Dancing on that clean sheet,
spelling out your emotional insignia.
Your sensations trap in a jar for
everyone to look at. Your bliss
infused, your felicity woven, and
your message tangled in a web of
metaphors. Every period is a breath
in; as a new word starts I
ready myself for the next dive of
poetic pleasure.
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3 A.M. GIRL
If youre afraid of pulling your life
together, I wish you werent because
I am here, maybe a million miles
away but I am here, I can be afraid
with you. I wish you could cry into
me. Maybe we can pull through
together. Or we can just wait until
this life blossoms. I would love to see
you go on, it would make me feel
better even if I do get left behind, to
see you smile would be enough. I
wish I can tell you this in person but
this is enough.
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THIS POETRY
These words that cant stop being
for you, youre an endless piece of
lyric that continues in my heart,
something that says youll be here
forever, this poetry is your
beauty, an endless forest that I
cannot seem to escape from, this
poetry doesnt seem to quit, it
doesnt give up on you or your
love, it continues to be for you,
someone I gave up on along
time ago.
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FOREVER WORDS; POSSESSION
Her name is all that I see when I write
these letters. Her soul takes control of my
hands and her sensations enter my mind,
and they write out these lyrics, words that I
call forever. Born from anothers heart,
they escape to fill out these promised
poems. She is the reason, the singularity of
my love, my faulted hopes. She is the color
of my dreams and the whisper of
my conscious, her touch is my religion,
her body my knowledge to study, her
mind is than the cosmos, a vast beauty
from which there is no god, only
her. And it is only her for which these
words belong; I dedicate my souls
scriptures to her, the iristhat grows from
inside of me.
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FLOWER IN A FALLING VASE
People saw you as this flower, as if they could see
you in color, touch you in gentle strokes and smell
you in as this rosy perfume. And I saw you the same
way except I saw you completely, your colors were
lively so vibrant, longing to exist and be seen, your
feel was smooth and rolling, your curves never
ended, but your aroma was intoxicating, an essence
that just drew me in, sweet in honey, light in sensual
taste, just perfect. I saw you as this dainty flower, but
I also saw you were fused to this heavy black ivy
vase. Your feet were always in troubled waters, you
fed on the sunshine of smiles and you grew so lovely
and so proud as flower should, but you were falling
my dear, and soon enough as that vase touched the
ground it shatter into a million glassy thorns, all of
them missing your skin, your sensitivity, and in
the midst of all of this chaos you hit the ground
gracefully like an angel falling to earth but sure
enough you began to die. Your color, your feel,
your taste were all drowning in the waters you
thrived on. You basked in the thought of others, not
one of them thought of picking you back up, and
fixing the broken pieces.
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THE MENTOR
I am solely interested in the beauty of others, a
humble admirer of the truly unobtainable, the
dog chasing cars, a flightless bird looking up
towards the heavens ever wondering what its
like to fly. Though my orphaned words seek
guidance and your attention they had a
mother once, a light that shined through
them, and a depth they reached. In love with
her I almost fell, her ease, her allure, I wanted
her lips, her words. But she ciphered for
another, took me for granted and left me
abandoned, her eager student, betrayed and
left to crumble under his own weight. Now
bitter enemies; my mother, my boss, you left
us, myself, my poems.
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NO PLACE TO HIDE
Darling, I often ask if you can still hear me,
breathing, sighing. I have been quite silent in my
corner, I dont know how to explain you, my
secrets, the temptations, what I still am; the
twenty two year old sickly, unrequited,
inexperienced hypocritical poser poet from
Jersey. I solemnly admit I do become what I
think others see in me, and the opinion is
shallow, depressed, deprived, unwelcome. I dont
know if you can hear this but my world, the way
I unimaginatively perceive it to be, is getting
much smaller, time slips away into routine, colors
bleed to dull. Life seems to fade into a cozy coma
without you, dearest. And though things only
seem to be getting hopelessly tighter, these
liberating conversations into the nothingness, that
I badly believe you can hear, is what sets me free.
Into you, thats where I am, hidden, protected,
fulfilled.
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HOPEFUL ROMANTIC
We all belong to someone.
Most of us are just well hidden
in what makes us cower. But
out there, in the vastness of
your fears, your soul mate
breathes the same air as you,
waiting for a day that sees a
wandering heart beating just a
tiny bit braver under the sun;
unknowingly waiting for that
someone to be you.
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WALLFLOWER
I act as if someones pushing
right up against my desk; eagerly
waiting to read what each
sentence has to say about them
next, imagining what viscous
words the pen has spun together
into a trapping web; just
fancying to be caught between
them. I hardly ever delay
gratification, and for years Ive
been venting to such a person,
one thats not quite there.
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LA ZONA
Im tired of sleeping in a divided bed,
the weighs of sorrow and loneliness
keeping me to my side, awake from the
disquiet in my mind. I am not a
number but for a person so split into
two I feel terribly odd, awkwardly off.
Last night I strained my heart when I
apologized to my soul for living like
this; its just that in the eyes of comfort
there are no obligating reasons for more
than how things are. Forgiveness
shouldnt be a strength measured in
what you can pull; it should be limitless
like a sweet dream. And yet awake I
am, vexed by the notion of how
generally weak Ive become
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UNFOLLOWED
(this user is not following you.)
How is anyone not supposed
to fall in love with you?
Youre the right parts broken
and the best parts unknown.
My curiosity is in a hunger,
but I cant keep following
you like a stray dog home;
youre so kept in and Im
begging outside your door
whining to know more.
Because you are you,
beautiful.
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TORN
I want to live a modestly invisible
life, far away from most things. Yet
there is something compulsively
wrong with my nature and I long to
be seen, heard by the masses. But
what do I have to say, to give?
These attributes split me sporadically
down the middle as if a heart broken
unevenly in two. Because I live in
utter dishonesty; unhidden, but
conveniently put away. Because this
world is scary and it has hurt me;
and I think thats okay to say to
something you want to fall in love
with.
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BOY WHO WRITE POETRY
To the boys who write poetry.
Who have much to say but take
the extra step and watch their
words grow into roses and
galleries for the ones they love.
Who speak with pens and
ciphers. To these boys with
thorns at their sides, who pain
with sentences and bleed with
similes, whod rather rip a page,
than a heart. To them as they sit
in the quiet, wishing they were,
wishing who knew.
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MERECER
I want to read you, not look at you in a
desiring manner, not in crave. There is
much more to you than your visual beauty
leads to believe. The truth is a bit deeper,
less obvious. You dont seem to give much
away in your touch, your taste but whats
there is teasingly hinted in your
grammatical performance. Youre much
prouder in your balladry; you show it off
graciously more so than your own curves.
Your words in me are a form of your sex. I
find myself wanting it more when youre
in your lyrical state because its simply a
glimpse to your divine. Youre barer than
nude. The intimacy, its textured lovingly;
you deserve to be read, to be savored, to
be felt under a different light.
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CATCHING
Tell me of your favorite book, tell me
about it, something about you I would
never find written in the passages of
your diary. I want to share a deeper
connection, perhaps find your laughter
in the cunning paragraphs of your
adoring author. Can we fall in love
with a middleman? I think so, I think
we can be so much more to ourselves
with the words of another keeping us
apart. So tell me, what book makes you
cringe, what story makes you cry,
laugh, live, hurt a little and experience
it the most, because I want to be able to
do the same things to you too.
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The Poetry Found Here Is Protected
Written By leaveyouapen
leaveyouapen.tumblr.com
lYAP
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