StarBoundJumper

1 I have heard love is finding your missing pieces in others. Well, loving you is loving a cigarette Everyone knew you wouldn't last forever and everyone said you'd kill me, but I would for damn sure love you until the end 2 When I first saw you Your hair was a flurry of ash (or sunflowers or leaves in autumn) your eyes were stolen from a bird of pray and your skin was a riverbed. You were more natural disaster than woman                                   and you knew it When I first saw you, you were lost in a dream of yourself 3 When you looked at

I've come to slam today and to hear what you have to say But children, I'm not impressed. I was planning on telling you About a stupid,                     ingrown                                 kid who thinks in bad poetry (and sees the beauty in the impure and broken) With no lies, No theatrics, and no being a Fucking Showoff but,      in this crowd,                         that won't sell (and who am I to take time from your nonsense) So, Whilst looking pretentious, I'll start by saying; my family is shit,                          or some other apt metaphor. Maybe I'll tell you how the antipsychotics taste as they slide down the th

                                   "Don't you think you                                       deserve better?" Her face Was the seat of god "You've never thought, have you?" We are the broken pieces to be found                and, to build the world,            together                        put.                                   "She's not yours?                                    Or she won't be!                                   Don't you want her                                      or, someone?" "God knows I Want..." But no.          No. No. No. No. That         is not ours       nor mine. Ours       is the story of ho

I want words to flow           from our lips As free and unbound         as any stream But,      the answer is no.                                                     They wouldn't allow it. This chained, painful sound,                                                     They'll remain dark. And,      All the               others?           They'll as well Held fast to their                 iron bounds of                       trepidation and                                 Flimsy Paper

It's finally talking time but my mouth's full of daises, begonias, pansies, and sunflowers. Yet, of the hours I've spent down south I'll always make the climb                       to see that field. Not for me, but for the jasmine and red roses. And despite the taste of leaves I regretfully left, They        ARE Your roses! They grow only for you. The lavender in your bones burns my eyes and tears at my skin Because,              believe it or not, into my mind she weaved petunias and orange lilies, snapdragons and So     &