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I cannot compose brilliant poems, sonnets, or verses,

and I cannot speak to you in Latin or Greek;

I cannot move you with any language made up by man.

Love is the only only language I could touch you with

If you only knew how much I could love you.

If you knew I love you;

If I were brave enough to tell you at all.
sorry if I have an accent

my native language is -sshole

~ Me, @ like 11:36 pm
if love had a name
it would be yours
and that's how i know i'll never feel it
because i'll never have you.
Stephen E Yocum
Oh what I miss most
is the closeness and
touch of a human hand.
A simple thing, one we
normally take for granted,
like my grandchildren's arms
around my neck. Handshakes
or hugs in greetings or farewells
with friends, all taken for granted
for years, lost for now, but will
eventually return.
Greet me with your presence,
and that smile of yours.
If you were mine to keep,
I would leave my lipstick,
on your cheek.
Why'd you say that you love me?
but then you just go...

Please say that you love.
Be my queen.

Let's be alone.
Nobody's watching

Can I take you home?

Let me love you?
I'm not scared.

It's just I've got to be delicate.
Promise I'll be delicate.
Please, hallelujah!

What will you say?
Just me
and you
Emma Price
I wrote a million letters I'll never send
to release a billion thoughts in my head
but still here are a trillion voices that never end
~much love
I envy the sun โ€”
for it always rises
I love the way you look at me when the worlds quiet and our eyes meet,
or when you slowly tuck my hair away as your graze my cheek
I've heard you whisper to me when you think I'm asleep, saying everything you won't admit.
Kissing me with affection, not just cause of attraction....
I feel it in your lips, your need for me, but you'll only admit it when I'm asleep.
Am i the only one who wants to be naked all this quarantine?
You know
I donโ€™t know
if Iโ€™m just tired
of it all
or getting old
or both
my ribs feel
like a prison
for these feelings
Iโ€™m feeling
and sleep
is a hangman
who ties
a black cloth
over my eyes
so quiet and soft
like around about
Constellations light up the inky sky. Each with a story of their own to tell. All connected through seeming specks. What is written in the stars is as old as time. So how can I doubt that which shines as the story of us unfurls like vines.
Regan Wylde
Iโ€™m so tired, exhausted in fact.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of feeling.
Tired of believing.

I wish I could sleep through it all.
Dream through the hurt.
Dream through the time.
Dream through the numbness.

But I canโ€™t sleep.
Even if I could, Iโ€™d still be tired of living.
Just a quick message, Iโ€™m unsure to who is disliking all the comments of this poem but I can assure you I like every comment, thank you all for such kind words and constructive criticism. #ignorethehate โค๏ธ
Schrodinger and I are good friends
We have tea
Quite frequently
Ammar Younas
Night sits on my chest
Squeezes poems out of me
And grinds my poor soul
Noting changes.
Nothing grows.

Empty highs.
Empty lows.

I can't feel the warm,
And I can't feel the cold.

You try to make me happy,
And I try just for you.
But other than our trying,
Nothing else is new.

I worry I'll upset you,
If I can't make a change.
It's not fair of me,
To make you stay the same.
Don't let me drag you down with me.
Rupert Pippingford
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.
Aryan Sam
Years ago
We stayed up till
3 am talking,
And today
I donโ€™t even know
How to say hi,
Kacie B
I used to have these
terrible fits
(worse, I think, than anything)
like a little fish
violently flopping to death
in a cracked and dried up
rough riverbed
gasping in vain for one last breath.

(I was gasping, in vain, for you)
Was reflecting on some things last night from when I was little.
Carlo C Gomez
The lilt of your sea
Is a mystery to me,
The form of your lips
A vast calligraphy.

The shape and stem
Of your new world,
Impregnated with maudlin and marrow,
And how it curled, instead of set.

You are remarkably
Less an end to everything,
More a furtive wellspring.

O sweet custodian of paradise,
Please measure out your turn of phrase
In the language of light,
As we enter into the uncreated night.
I never thought I'd matter
To anyone

Until you
Came along

And changed my perspective
Of the universe

You made me feel
Like I matter

And I'm grateful
For you.
Monsters donโ€™t exist
Still, we are very afraid
Because we made them
Monsters. A concept so often used to represent anything dislikable to society, which we are afraid of. Yet literal monsters donโ€™t exist.
Mahogany Ree
i am the exception
to EVERY rule
It could all be so simple.
ethan gaskill
i keep waking up
with you on my lips
but it's only your name
and not your kiss
screaming your name at night in my sleep
there are days
when the people on the streets
are not happy but the sky is
pale blue and the clouds are pink
eventhough right now the streets are empty i can see their sad faces from the window
(i am just tired a little bit)
From grey transmissions
into coloured streams
With nighttime fading from
your dreams
From signals out beyond the
small hours
Under kaleidoscope skies
the morning flowers
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
I don't feel real
There is no substance
Just a sublimate
Where I once stood
I know I was there
I can't know for sure
Grey rings wispy
Long sought touch
It never happened
Where have I gone
In my haste
I have forgotten
Days strung together
A daisy chain
Of moments
Lingering in my head
That I no longer cling to
Oh well
Nothing I can do now
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
Felicity Paris
I will say
I do not love you
until my mouth forgets your taste

I will write
I do not love you
until my fingers forget
how your hands feel, wrapped in mine
and my poems no longer
reek of sadness and desperation

I will believe
I do not love you
until it becomes impossible
or until I begin
to love someone new
Cry for me
I die slowly
Every day I am rejected
Each moment neglected
And each time it comes to mind
It is as though I canโ€™t find
Any motivation
Wellcome to depression station
Even the stars
are quiet, itโ€™s like
thereโ€™s no life
at the end of their shine
only this cold distant
indifference to the dying
light around them.
Star Stuff
It's a full moon in the sky.
I can feel a gentle breeze.
I feel like my mind is high,
In the clouds ready to freeze.

The skeptical feelings inside me
Up and down through my blood.
I search for escapades if any,
Out of all this confusing flood.

Silence can sometimes be a sad violence!
And yet sometimes it's nothing but a deep silence.
I ask myself, "Does this all make sense?"
Finding the answer, I end up in trance.
When butterflies fall in love, do they feel humans in their stomach?
Longer sleepless evenings
Humid, dark, and bleak
Serene and sorrowful homes
Blossoming sakura trees weep
With heavyhearted lonely buds
Spring, unforgettable saddest spring
Trees not lovelier and so are fields
Nor the day more delightful than the evening
These unhappy blooms in pink
Signal a different kind of grief
Sakura  (cherry blossoms) are constantly cited as the most recognizable sign of spring in Japan. When trees all over the country burst into breathtakingly beautiful clusters of pink flowers right about the time it gets warm enough, people  yearly go outside to enjoy. Blooming of the sakura is a beautiful  gift from mother nature, hanami (sakura viewing) is done by many people in spring.  But due to COVID-19 pandemic, parks right now are being closed to avoid more transmission of SARSCoV2.
I am an artist
I draw my life.
I am a teacher
I teach my steps.
I am a doctor
I treat my destiny.
I am a lawyer
I judge my actions.
I am a builder
I build my success.
I am a translator
I translate my opinion.
I am aย ย photographer
I takeย ย my memories.
I am a writer
I write my future.
I am a chef
I cook my mood.
I am a businesswoman
I manage myself.
Micah G
Can I give a girl anything  
Except what she wants
joe machetto
if every leaf
is a soul
fallen to earth

is it impossible
to believe

one of them
could have been
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