Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Love/Hate
Tuesday, May 01, 2018
Sail Away With Me is sitting at the feet of a boy that I stole
from a girl who shared my name.
In a flat with no carpets
but a strong smell of weed.
It's fresh baked cookies
and heavy petting in club corners.
It's the sticky touch of cheap vodka shots,
and the bitter taste of Lambert & Butler cigarettes.
Sail Away With Me he said,
into New Years break ups, and countless make ups.
It's skyscrapers, screaming matches
and backslides years after the dust settles.
Sail Away With Me is Love/Hate.
from a girl who shared my name.
In a flat with no carpets
but a strong smell of weed.
It's fresh baked cookies
and heavy petting in club corners.
It's the sticky touch of cheap vodka shots,
and the bitter taste of Lambert & Butler cigarettes.
Sail Away With Me he said,
into New Years break ups, and countless make ups.
It's skyscrapers, screaming matches
and backslides years after the dust settles.
Sail Away With Me is Love/Hate.
Seventeen
Saturday, March 03, 2018
Sugarcult is bouncing off the walls.
It's steep hills and broken heels.
Traffic cones and wet paint tape,
in student dorms
where nobody we know actually lives.
It's watching gigs from metal staircases,
dripping in sweat,
stealing band t-shirts
because we were ignorant shits.
It's waiting for the 5:30 train
at quarter past four,
It's pretending you're The Monkees
just to keep warm.
It's pick me,
choose me.
Bouncing off the walls is Sugarcult.
Sugarcult is 17.
It's steep hills and broken heels.
Traffic cones and wet paint tape,
in student dorms
where nobody we know actually lives.
It's watching gigs from metal staircases,
dripping in sweat,
stealing band t-shirts
because we were ignorant shits.
It's waiting for the 5:30 train
at quarter past four,
It's pretending you're The Monkees
just to keep warm.
It's pick me,
choose me.
Bouncing off the walls is Sugarcult.
Sugarcult is 17.
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