SimplyMe
20 years old.
Junior at Seton Hall University. In a relationship with the man of my dreams. He is my best friend above all 12.14.10. I am ready to get out in the world but also slightly scared about life after college. This is one of the few blogs I run. Please feel free to check out and follow my other blogs. Also you can add me on FB, Twitter, or Instagram...I don't bite!
The flame flickers
across my collarbone,
flicking the heavy,
slumped shadows
over rumpled sheets.I tried so hard
to fit the mold
they had
fashioned for
me.I tried,
I tried,
tried,
tried…
Carving the
words out on
innocent trees.
I’m arrogant, unloving,
of the world; like
The Giving Tree,
they give, so
I continue to take.Squeezing and
pushing, the nails
shot from the cage,
smashing the
reflection.Beast released.
By Elizabeth3020 ©
Not Iambic….Do Not Accept…
These tags I’ll pop, and boast in rhyming verse
that what I wear puts swagger in my gait;
though twenty shillings have I in my purse,
my self-esteem and manhood both inflate
when lofty furs I purchase for a cent.
Thy grandpa’s clothes are worthy salvage, though
they smell a trifle musty. Still, I spent
much less to dress myself from head to toe.To save or not to save? The question’s moot.
I’ll never give my coin to high-street crooks.
These dusty shelves will yield their hidden loot
to those, like me, more frugal in their looks.
Like ancient coins washed up on distant shores,
I’ll find my treasures in these thrifty stores.
- Macklemore, “Thrift Shoppe”
(via awishforserendipity)
(via leaveyouapen)
(via awishforserendipity)
Every poet writes of
the moon as if they know her,
drinks coffee like water,
and overuses words that
they have never even said aloud
Because no one truly cares
what the writer felt,
if the interpretation
did not feel relative to the reader himself
An indent here,
a story about bruised knees,
a summer that should have never ended,
and love that should have
before it even beganA copy of a copy,
of a copy, of a copyand no one seems to notice,
unless while reading,
they felt nothing similarI could tell you I have flowers
sprouting from my rib-cage,
and a rabbit thumping away in my chest,but if that means nothing to you
I become just another
shitty, wannabe internet writer
who failed to make
your heart-strings
resound- S.G.
(via leaveyouapen)
We never are
where we truly are,
cause when we get there
we’re already looking for a place
that is somewhere, really far.
(via leaveyouapen)
#Poem #Love #deep (Taken with instagram)
Falling asleep to the sound of her voice
Warms my heart with each escape of her breath
And no amount of miles can restrict my affection
And no higher power will make me not defy their rules of love
And not one soul can change my spirits eyes,
Who are locked like ancient treasures
To her ever so beautiful face.
I’m in her presence, murmuring ” I am yours..”
As we fall asleep to the soft sounds of our voices.
I used to dream of a time where lights would flicker, mad people loving me saying I’m that nigga, and when I reached that level I would only go up, hiding my feelings inside a red plastic cup, maybe the music is your portal into me, cause talking to me its probably hard to…
To
I.
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
II.
I can give not what men call love,
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not,—
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?- Percy Bysshe Shelley
