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More from ~ClearSound

Red Lights Mean "Go" Your late night instant messages leave me
restless
when I finally retire to my un-made bed and
search for the sleep I'll never have.

Fleeting drowsiness:
a common symptom when
I remember how my heart

        thump-thump-thumped

at the sight of that blinking orange light
illuminating your name.

Every morning I get up I

   leave myself behind

along with the unfinished buisness
caused by
   a malnourished self-esteem.

I cross streets at red lights
and dance at the edge of
skyscrapers,

    daring to live the life
    
Vengeance Induced Arson. This city is filled with
giants,
            gleaming lights and
heights full of promise,

        yet behind every polished door

there is nothing.

If I tattoo
poetic verses across
my body,

would you finally see me
and
think me beautiful?

Thoughts like an
              arsonist,
I want to set

flame

to every deserted structure
as far as my legs will carry me,

        and let the toxic smoke
     
Fear Of Heights. I love tall buildings.

Sitting at that balcony makes me
forget
that you could be waiting there
in that God-forsaken lobby,

urging me to take the chances I
        never even had.

Perhaps it is in my nature
to feel safe at the edge of a
         skyscraper;

    to defiantly look city lights in the eye
  and know I'll be falling into them-
lost as they illuminate the trails
of busy citizens who forget

    they aren't the only ones still alive.
Cheaters Never Win. You left me hanging with
   dozens of midnight advances
and
   betraying kisses, yet
I didn't seem to mind (so much)
that my lips were the concrete
upon which you
              shattered her heart.

Pacing as I waited for you,

I walked the Earth in a
single straight line,
    searching for another reason
I'm such a disappointment
    in their eyes;

ending up just where I started.

Question:

If those dusty library books could speak,
would they run out of breath from the
stories of infidelit
Downside Up Rendezvous. Could I
      take a taxi to Central Park,

and
would you

sit on a park bench: oh so
      non-chalent;
  fidgeting with your cellular, checking
an inbox full of messages
      never sent

?

Sneaking up behind you,
      would you forgive me if I
buy you a quadruple fudge sundae, and sign your
lips
with mine

?

  We sat atop a skyscraper,
when you leaned in, and
told me that your world
could be crazy;
      could turn me
completely
   
Free Shipping and Handling. Your cold blue eyes mean
moonlit shivers, mean
lonely quivers
though you're only
  a blanket apart.

On nights like these,
my soul takes
a one-way plane to every
     cozy motel
     and quiet café
in the hemisphere,

scattering pieces of myself
where I can't reach them;

(just so you won't have to anymore).

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the pulse of poetry

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February 20
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Can I be close to you?

by ~ClearSound

Darling, I'm sorry


for the parched wording,
the dry vows,
terms of agreement, croaked the white dove
in that white chapel of whiskey floorboards,


for the way the moonbeam hit the windows,
and the way you said his name.


I'm sorry, darling


for the (nothing) that came in seg-
ments,
and the dusty diary memories, pieces of
lost-lover's hymns,
for the sweetness at the tip of your tongue
and the finger at your lips.




__


, and that's when he realized that some girls deserved stardust and galaxies,
and he was bright fluorescent light clouding their vision.
:iconclearsound:
Oh, you fill my head with pieces
of a song I can't get out. :music:

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Daily Deviation

Given 2012-02-29
Can I be close to you? by *ClearSound Suggester Writes: shows a maturity and a well-developed writing style, despite the writer's young age of 15. ( Suggested by !pixieplay and Featured by ^Beccalicious )
love 2 2 joy 1 1 wow 2 2 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconarchelyxs:
~archelyxs Apr 2, 2012
You are amazing.
So many congratulations. :heart:
Reply
:iconclearsound:
~ClearSound Apr 4, 2012
:heart: Thank you so much. Means a lot coming from you. (:

--
"To realize you are just one story walking among millions. To not feel the bright lights even as they fill the air. To see the tall buildings and only feel a deep longing for the stars."
Reply
:iconriseandbe:
*RiseandBe Mar 20, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I absolutely adore the last two lines. Gorgeous imagery, as always. Congrats on the DD!

--
"A light to burn all the empires, so bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be."

Proud Co-founder of #PoeticalCondition and Contributer to #Breathing-Poetry and #Poets-and-Warriors! Check us out!
Reply
:iconclearsound:
~ClearSound Mar 24, 2012
<3 Thank you so much, m'love

--
"To realize you are just one story walking among millions. To not feel the bright lights even as they fill the air. To see the tall buildings and only feel a deep longing for the stars."
Reply
:iconriseandbe:
*RiseandBe Mar 26, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
My pleasure, as always!

--
"A light to burn all the empires, so bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be."

Proud Co-founder of #PoeticalCondition and Contributer to #Breathing-Poetry and #Poets-and-Warriors! Check us out!
Reply
:iconbreathingglassstars:
~breathingglassstars Mar 11, 2012   Writer
you're magnificent. :heart:
Reply
:iconclearsound:
~ClearSound Mar 18, 2012
as are you <3

--
"To realize you are just one story walking among millions. To not feel the bright lights even as they fill the air. To see the tall buildings and only feel a deep longing for the stars."
Reply
:iconinterstellarflight:
~InterstellarFlight Mar 5, 2012
GIRL YOU GOT A DD /SCREAMING

Congrats babe you are the most fabulous poet
wow no i cannot make sentences right now
i think thats why we compliment each other
you write amazing
i write bad
opposites attract

but back to the point AHH YOU SO DESERVE THIS /SMUSHES MY FACE AGAINST YOU
Reply
:iconclearsound:
~ClearSound Mar 7, 2012
LOOL YUP. Thank you, bbg. <3 You're fantastic. ily. thank you. (:

--
"To realize you are just one story walking among millions. To not feel the bright lights even as they fill the air. To see the tall buildings and only feel a deep longing for the stars."
Reply
:iconinterstellarflight:
~InterstellarFlight Mar 11, 2012
You're welcome! : )
Reply
:icon:
Add a Comment:
 
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The thought of it (...)

and I will mourn you in silence
with the illusion-ed curve of my lips,

dipping in and out of my syrupy slumber,

submerged in the ersatz comfort
of your lingering ghost.The thought of it by ~ClearSound
April 15th He barricaded himself beneath the sheets,
thick quilts patched with fruitless dreams.

And he slept to catch a hint of "why"
of dying orchids and April rain,
of fleeting golden afternoons
turned to wishes in an onyx sky.

__

He found her ancient kisses sinking
to the depths of a well
of glossy ink,

and the words poured forth in search of a fragment,
to catch, for a moment

a wisp-
a whisper-

of
sweet breath trailing on the nape of his neck,

of
her lightness of touch,
fingers tracing his lips,

tucking galaxies at the foot of his bed, he
held her,
he held her and
she was a universe within his arms.

__

"My orchids are dying,April 15th by ~ClearSound
Emmeline "Take me to a place where I can breathe the hymn,
the astronomer's birdsong,
the Milky sea.

Oh, take me to a place to live and die
in the majestic view
of the galaxy."

__

Emmeline, she,
with blithely steps
took her penultimate breath

to sing:

__

"Living is my worship,
and music is my prayer."Emmeline by ~ClearSound
An old story He disappeared one day
through the great roof of blue,

translating himself into the markings on a page,
hard pillows, and a draft through the
windows.

He disappeared one day
into the crowd of overly-familiar faces,
of chapped lips kissed and cold hands held,

into an old, old story,
timelessly beyond its time.

Oh,
and she?

She falls in love with New York City

because she'll never have the stars.An old story by ~ClearSound
Old woman, old woman On a hazy Monday evening, he
fell to the bed of a river rushing
through strands of moonlight, silver
shining.

On a drowsy Tuesday evening, he
felt worn and weighted with the mass of time
and she
oh, she was aged sorrow,
long-since starlight bursting
through her eyes.

On a quiet Wednesday evening, he
read dusty tragedy between her lashes.
Intertwined with frigid air,
her fingers hung,

her soul was sleeping.Old woman, old woman by ~ClearSound
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