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love is, perhaps, the cruelest mistress.
5. août 2020
16:07 pm
Karly Codr
Life is boring
People are stupid
I'm so boreddddd
Erica Girone
The girl in the mirror
Her eyes are a sea
Deep are the feelings
That lie underneath
What is seen is temporary
What is unseen is eternal

I live on borrowed time
but I will gladly spend it with you

My days are numbered
but I will gladly count it with you
Robin Green
Babe let me get you a beer
Then I want you to sit very near
I want to make sure you will hear
These words I'm about to whisper in your ear
Life was cloudy but with you it's clear
Living without you is my biggest fear.
We have been through a lot these past few years
I don't mean to make you she'd a tear
I just want you to know I love you my dear.
In this constant state
Of hollow emptiness
I long.....
For a messy chaos.
Weeping willow tree
Bending over the water
Not sad just thirsty
and we
won't just
    but we'll
      thrive till
        we're five
           and make
              peace with
                 our hearts
                     till we're
                                   and my
                                                            will talk
                                                                   to the
                                                                          sky and
                                                                               we'll drift
                                                                                      through the
                                                                                              night till
                                                                                                      we're free
Rupert Pip
You catch life
one tear at a time
to one day
fill an ocean.
I heard you liked short poems, so here's one for you.
i looked down
twenty three stories

tears in my eyes
legs shaking

every intention
of falling head first

you see— i was just so tired
of having to land
on my feet
so many people
are so tired
of having to be so strong
luna imagery
Once there was a boy
Who stood in front the mirror
For so long he drowned
He was gasping for air but
No one saw him but himself
I’m addicted to the feel of cold metal sliding across bare flesh
Addicted to the instant
when nothing marks smooth skin
immediately before
red rivers rapidly rise
painting a once white canvas
with a flood of emotion,
tears on my cheeks,
sobs caught in my throat,
numbness replaced by pain & sadness.
Addicted to the imperfection
of red welts and dotted scabs that follow,
fingers drawn like magnets
to the texture of healing skin,
tracing over and over and over now fading ridges
Amazed that I am strong enough
to heal myself over and over and over.
Convincing myself that I am strong enough.
I find strength in my weakness.
6 months self harm free! Writing about it helps fight the urge
Nagalakshmi kp
Deep blue...
Tranquil and serene...
Covers all the land...
I fell in love with candlelight-
in my darkness, she shone so bright.
She danced the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But wax and wick both burn away,
and candlelight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that fickle flame will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for candlelight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with candlelight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight,
and faded out at end of night.
Thinking about getting a tattoo
But, I take pause...
Looking in the mirror
I see my body’s already covered
Marked in invisible ink
Every inch of my bare skin
Painted with the joy and pain of living
From my heart to my hips
Color faded here, but poppin’ over there
Memories designed by your hands
Others etched on my own
A collection that makes me smile
Among a few pieces I regret
So, about getting a tattoo...
I guess I’m not ready
Because I can’t think of a tattoo
Meaningful enough, yet
To write over any of the life I’ve lived
Shreya Das
the name,
the date,
and the man's fate.

Whatever unknown, all is certain;
that death shall pull the curtain.
today the pain is not in breaking
that would suggest some fantastic noise
or cavernous fracture
today is subtle, barely visible to the naked eye
it's a quiet decay
unremarkable in its erasure of humanity
withering away
and that emptiness becomes a new kind of identity
this is all that remains
They gather on my dress
Glistening like magical crystals

Which slowly vanish
With a single touch
Kelly McManus
People won't listen
because they don't want to hear
that it's their baby

                             Kelly McManus
Why does it always feel like
no one's listening
when I talk?
I'm never loud enough..
Time is of the essence,
Blessings in every second,
Ascensions to Dimensions,
Feels like I’m in heaven.

Even a tortured soul
needs a place to cry.
I’m so glad
That you’re my

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
hey, it's been a while
you are like a big toe
you're ugly and you smell funny
i really need you though
you balance me out
Star BG
As I dance to the music of my heart
my special song expands.
It moves cross highways of joy
with mountainous visions that call to be wrote.

I dance in new beginnings each day
inside pages of my journey.
And on days where clouds form to block sun
I breath deep aligning becoming the lover
to my true self.
Breathe deep to ground inside
Mothers hug that moves in wind.
A hug that gives me reason to forge ahead
to celebrate inside harmony.
I look for a partner to read and dance everyday. Invitation stands.
The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do?

It wasn’t letting you go.

That was difficult though, to swallow my pride and wear a smile to hide the fact I’m not okay.

Oh no, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? Was finally admit to myself the truth.

It was admitting that you were never mine to begin with.
Qualyxian Quest
And the Tree of Souls

Broken tolls

Fantasy and Science Fiction
Silences and benedictions

History: Nightmare story
Mythology: story glory

We watch. We wait. We dream by night.
If we dream by day: Mystic flight?
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
There once was a man who sat near a tree,with mountains of tears none to see,he wept by the carved wood of the tree,his pain grew but for none to see,his guilt of pain and emotions all hidden,he welped for many and unto himself,the man disappeared into the mist,with not a trace none in sight,his spirit gone with the mist,then came morning for none to see
Lane O
Fields of green,
below skies of blue.
Immaculate beauty,
just as I see you.

You rock in your chair.
The breeze ruffles your hair;
but don't ever fret:
I will be there.

Through the laughter,
and sadness,
till we are old and gray.
I will be with you.
Forever I'll stay.
I bit my tongue
The harsh hadn't gone.
Wondered if it was my drink
Or if it were the blue tears.
The bitternesses,
Which was keeping me drunk.
The madnesses,
Which was jamming me up.
But all I said was,
'Hi, you want some too?'
It is about my useless feeling in relationships
And the drink was coffee, i swear
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
Maria Etre
If I see it
then it is

If I hear it
then it is

If I taste it
then it is

If I read it
then it's
a different
If I see what you see, and they see it too, that doesn't mean I am crazy!
I am overcome with guilt and desecrated romance
on my very hands.

Tragedy it be;
are that's what
poets are made
of -
reminiscing smithereens
these lost shreds of
time-filled regret
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Oliverio Girondo
Lo verde.
Lo apacible.
La llanura.
Las parvas.

Está bien.
¿Pero el humo?
Más que nada,
que todo

el humo
el humo
el humo.
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