The Musings of a Teenage Vagabond

Your kisses are safe and soft. It’s different. It’s not what I expected. You are not what I expected. God, everything about you is unexpected. I never thought this odd connection between us would last, but apparently it has, even against my will. I kept telling myself I didn’t want you, that I never wanted you, that it was just one moment of weakness; but it seems my protests were never that ardent.

It’s like you’re my personal kryptonite. Every time I want to say “no”, I find myself saying “yes” and it’s infuriating. The worst part is that I still think fondly of your embraces. I find myself smiling when I recall our time together. I find myself smiling at you when you just smile. And if you smile that ridiculous grin of yours at me, legions of butterflies flutter about in my stomach. How is it possible that someone I never even wanted has this much affect on me?

And it kills me inside since I know I don’t have this same affect on you.

Ode to a Poem

I saw you twinkling in my mind’s eye

and I latched onto your faint notion,

hoping that I am able to try

and give you a form and emotion.

And yet, my presence you do abstain.

Though I strive to voice you properly,

You are the perfection I can’t obtain.

Your ward stands despite my armory.

Go ahead and act all nonchalant

For I will continue to persist

Since there is just one thing I want-

All I want is to see you exist. 

So please, let me use the words I see

To paint you across my scenery

Steampunk R2-D2

tocamela:

A Drama

A Scene between Mother and Daughter.

A Few tick tocks after Midnight

And Broken Record is their Script. 

She Said:

You’re such a horrible daughter!

You’re acting just like your father!

How dare you disrespect me

Since I raised you from Infancy!

I can’t accept your behavior.

She Said:

I don’t smoke, drink, or sleep around!

My feet are planted in the ground!

What more must I do to please you?

What can I say to get it through

your head? My actions are profound.

It has Skipped, that Old Record.

It is the Same Conversation

Yet Different Words with no Curtain. 

A Memory

I wake up in a haze and all I can make out is your frame nestled against mine. I can’t recall how I ended up in your bed, but I’m surprisingly okay with this deduction. I should be feeling empty and broken by this time, trying to find a way of escape from what I got myself into, but I glance down at you and I feel… safe… happy even. I would never this give a second thought to anyone else and creep away with the night sky as the sun rears it’s head, but I don’t want to leave your bed cold and empty. I want you to wake up and see me. You know my normal exploits and I want you to know that you aren’t like them. I want you to know that this isn’t a mistake. I want you to know that I want this. I want you to know that I cared this time. I want you to know so many things, but the pre-dawn light is slowly making its way through your window and soon this memory will be just that. A memory. I quickly lock it away for safekeeping, to remind myself that I did care- for once in my life… I cared. And with that thought and a final glance, I slip out of your bed and slink down the hallways, into the fading night. 

Reblog if you want an anon’s honest opinion about you.

(Source: ohlavender)

Poetry

When it comes to poetry,

I am at a loss for rhyming.

It’s not like it’s Geometry-

It’s just certain words and timing.

But all the same, it eludes me,

This dry a-b-a-b structure

That won’t let me write in trochee

Due to Hamlet’s renowned founder

However, I feel ecstatic

When I thwart this confounding scheme

Though I do get a touch frantic

When I’m asked about the theme.

For me, verse has no intention

Other than alleviation