Poetry is not written
With words
Its written with feelings
Dipped in heartbreak,
With a pinch of fear
Thrown in, with sorrow
Seeping in through the
Edges, and packaged with
Loneliness, complete with a
Bow of melancholy
On top.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
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I have scars
Lining
Every inch
Of my skin
From battles
That can have
No winners
Only, survivors
And poetry
Drips
Out of
Each of these scars
Like blood
Bleeding me dry
Of all the pain
Finally
Healing me.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
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To the girl who made threatened me to start this blog. No, I won’t name my future daughter after you. *eyeroll* This is all you get. I write poetry Because I can see Your lips, swallowing Your sadness temporarily And curving into a smile. * … Continue reading I write poetry.
I dip my pen In the inky black sky And, watch, mesmerised As stars burst out Of the nib Aligning themselves Into a mass Of constellations As I put my pen To paper. -The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
She was constantly turning melancholy Into poetry Splattering the pain, that Coursed through her veins Onto pages of blank paper And watching, as her pain Wrote beautiful verses Turning pain into an art form Making people cry, at How something so ugly Could create something … Continue reading Poetry.
Converting ugly thoughts into beautiful words.
–And stealing everybody’s hearts with them.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
Literature Is My Porn 