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Kat Schaefer Jul 19
Shades of turquoise fill glassy eyes
Stiff like a mannequin
Emotionally paralyzed

The lights are on
And someone’s home
An infantilized mind
Cased in flesh and bone

Punishment for grief
A cure for anxiety
A husband’s order
For a female lobotomy
Yes I am greedy
for a single tomorrow
no wonderful shining moment
no rivers and rainbows
nor sunrise sunset skies of gold and cotton candy pink
just another day, like many others I have seen
a belly full of living, would be food enough I think
Faint breath flutters the curtains
in the pale green room named spring, we wait
certain that it will be tonight
still he hangs, a torn fingernail
catching sharp on the threads of the season
each wheeze falters, weaker than the last
he rallies and falls,
each stuttering fail
leaves us poised and frozen
still as rabbits on open ground
waiting, waiting waiting
for the sweet and silent sound
of winter’s passing
I feel its living breath
close now
scented soft upon my shoulder
shivers the breeze
every lamb,
every flower,
every blossoming tree
I do not walk through spring
it walks through me
Roberta Day Aug 2022
Savor it
Entwined limbs
circulating warmth
Lips sealed together
A misty evening,
thanks to the weather
Minds connected
Harmonious scents
from private places
Serenity among faces
Calloused hands
rubbing forever
A feeling I want
to last
k e i May 2022
it’s just how it was.
and so things ended up the way they did.
we were quite a pair;
what with my impulsiveness and your rationality.
as i took a step back, each time i recognized the danger in your eyes, flickers unleashed.
this rendezvous meant meeting somewhere a little nearer than halfway,
not without leaving a breadcrumb trail of weariness.

see, we didn’t get around to the part of burning bridges-yellow and orange and blue flames standing tall. neither did we try dousing ourselves in gasoline just so it could stay alive, sparks like flirtatious moths attune to life.

all that we’ve resorted to was crossing the bridge and rightly so. for all we ever wanted was to learn the language the city lights spoke upon the ripples delving into atlantis’ reach. there wasn’t a need to get past the platform, plainly standing there already felt right.

this is what those weeks were all for. open-door kisses and treacherous things in the dark.
the laughing fits and slow dancing in your balcony at 2am, acoustics faint on your speakers were just ways we came up with in order to **** time.

things ended up the way they did.
your messages left unopened, my secrets i’ve bared onto your lips and your tongue was the ink you’ve etched yours with on my skin. for a while it meant more than that, we meant more than just a jet’s smoke trail of fleeting stars crash landing upon reality. we could only get to pretend for so long that the crash wouldn’t occur even as we’ve made an agreement that we’d still be alright and remain with an exchange of warm smiles and inviting eyes like the first encounter. but pretending could only sit so well in my chest but it can’t quite counteract this particular feeling rushing with intensity, an outrage that’s only worsened as those exchanges are kept.

so forgive me if i couldn’t keep contact, if all your calls go to voicemail-and i try not to listen to them but ultimately fail. the only compromise i aid to is to not reply.

that’s just how it was.
things ended up the way they did.
the passionate flames surrounded us keeping a close watch so they wouldn't engulf us
we were just bridge watchers content on not going beyond nor under


-“bridge watchers.”
you can find more of my poetry on: manicpixiedeadgirl.tumblr.com
grace Apr 2022
She no longer personified the young flower bud,
that she happened upon last summer,
sweet and delicate, swaying carefree in a field of wildflowers.

No-
after all, she had endured heavy rain,
fierce storms, and unrelenting winds from the West.

She was bold in her quest for sunlight,
and had learnt to stand, unbending,
resistant, in the face of adversity;

No-one was more deserving of the petals
that blossomed for all to see.
chang Oct 2021
i am sometimes tired.
of feeling too much
or feeling too little
and of filling the gaps of my ribs
with  uneasy breaths.
i could not explain it,
-that tiredness sometimes
reach beyond bones.
and i am tired of carrying it.
and im always scared
of the many ways that a body
could give in to it.
of the fact that a heart knows nothing
but to beat.
and how it also knows
when to just stop.
im not sad, just scared.
and im sometimes tired
all the **** time.
Sandy Macacua Aug 2021
i’m so used of not being good enough that’s why i push everyone away,

i don’t want to ever go through with it—pushing people away,

but it’s my insecurity whispering in my ears to push them away.

when will this end?
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