art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
White
Literally, figuratively, and physicallyWhite is as much a feelingas it is a physicalityLiterally it is white, bare, blankFiguratively it carries joy, and also instabilityIt is both wonder and nothingnessPhysically it is absence. Absence of color, of melanin, of blood
By Frankie Knight8 years ago in Poets
I Told You & You Told Me
I don’t get it, I treated you so well I held onto you, I was killing myself, you told me you loved me, and I was so stupid I believed it, watching you tear my heart into pieces, you told me you cared, but I felt you didn’t, 'til we really hit the end and I knew you couldn’t, to watch you move on, it hurt like a bitch, even though you already knew that my heart wasn’t always built as strong as a brick, I told you my past and that I wanted us to last, but then I told you it wouldn’t last if you keep doing the same shit in the past, but the way things went I knew how you wer thinking, I felt you, I felt how you were feelin', but the shit you did put me through the ceiling, that's the moment when my emotions ran high and I felt as if I wanted to die but instead I just sat there and cried wishing the shit you said to me wasn’t a lie.
By Jenise vega8 years ago in Poets
The Feeling Of...
What do you feel when you fall asleep in the backseat of a car? When the car starts to move and the uncomfortable way the seatbelt buckles dig into your side. So you roll over, face down onto the plush seat of your father’s old convertible and now you start to feel the warmth and the soft rumble of the engine that lulls you to sleep.
By Dani Oliver8 years ago in Poets
