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You only want me when you miss me  
Days blur into weeks, shared moments becoming memories
It’s hard to type when all I want is to speak
The desire to have my words wrapped around your throat
Bitterness dripping from my tongue
Not even your cancer-laced kisses could fix this
I no longer crave the darkness that dims my light
The funny thing about finally finding what you've always wanted is seeing how long it takes for you to lose it.
These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.
I often wonder why we can't understand other's poems sometimes, but deep down it is the one who writes it knows the value of it.
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 wore it again
and people complimented me
they say red is my color
and it suits me.

it's too thick and dark
did i overapply
no, it's the right amount
just enough
to make them think
i'm fine.

i look at myself
in the mirror,
and they're right
red shines on me,
so i applied
another layer,
and another
until my lips felt too thick,
but my eyes still see
the scars beneath it.
I feel like I can’t truly call myself a poet
If I haven’t used the word “petrichor”
In a poem before
So here it is
My official entry
Into the poetry “industry”
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
your eyes still look familiar
but the looks they give me now are foreign
are the everything
causing me to be

did it
it is all
your fault

forever damaged
full of hate
all for
Alex Teng
We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.
The classroom window had a clear view of the park
and when the July clouds painted the sky dark
the boy would start to cry!

Why, the teacher exclaimed, why these tears
it's all so pleasant, and there's nothing to fear
the rain is so welcome, it does only good
so why boy it finds you in such bitter mood!

Saying thus, he would walk back to his table
by the rain upon windowpane, I was inconsolable
brisker than rain were the tears in my eyes
in the thought there would be flood, water would rise
the walk back home would be a herculean feat
with the street flooded, hidden manholes beneath
I was haunted by the spectre of how the water rose
crawled past my chest, and reached up the nose
the swelling river would find me an easy victim
the teacher didn't know, I didn't know how to swim!

When the school bell finally rang, they ran joyous in the rain
splashing and soaking merrily, their way was heaven
only I stayed back, as if my feet had grown roots
late evening I reached home, in heavy sodden boots.
“Not yet,” I whisper to the heavens. “I love it here.” — Clare Cory


when desperate thoughts come seeking me
in the dark dear moments of near insanity,
when the hounding is bounding and baying,
nipping at my heels but aiming for my throat,
and the litany of next time, we’ll meet again,
is a whispery threating thread in my head that no scrubbing,
can unravel, erase, debase, or erase that awful distaste of
my embittered saliva, and a peace of mind finale
comes with a disgustingly disguising crook finger,
offering a taste of relief,
I will remember this story and  clap my hands
and reach for the quill,
put down the temptation of the knife
and let it pour on to the paper

expiating and excavating and expectorating
sugary salty bile of
mine own self~hate
by whispering the magic of
Not Yet,  Not Yet.*”
May 21, 2024, 3:00 p.m. ET New York Times

Finally Finding “The Magic”

Since childhood, I yearned for love. Once, I came within weeks of marriage before it abruptly fell apart. He said we were missing “the magic,” and, admittedly, he was right. A few men came and went. I’m now 59 with Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. I still don’t have a partner, but I’ve fallen desperately in love with life. Exquisite beauty emerges everywhere: my cat on my lap, a cashier extending an unexpected smile, sunlight skipping across a lake. I use each day to soak up the world’s splendor. “Not yet,” I whisper to the heavens. “I love it here.” — Clare Cory
Goddess Rue
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
interpretation inter-personalisation
hanging pictures from the sky
sailing treasures across the sea
giving away stars for candles
encouraging spirits to be free.
I think
the world
of us
than we
can offer
Salmabanu Hatim
I have been given 38106000 minutes in life,
I don't think I have done anything with it,
Like being patriotic, a saint or famous,
Not to be remembered in any history books,
Except a sweet or sad memory for my family and friends.
I should’ve
for someone
her to
into my
Kurt Philip Behm
Looking under
the streetlamp
vision departs

While all that we’re
hides in the dark

The familiar
our nature’s are such

That what’s in
our comfort zone
pleases us much

from vistas
that broaden our view

and still waiting
— to birth us anew

(Dreamsleep: May, 2024)
Saint kaya
The sky is
A graveyard of stars

And I remark
Something so tragically beautiful

Just like fireworks of art
From here to the nearest star

And I wish
I could lay awake
In the night

With you
And our lingering hearts

And tell you all about a tragedy
Called life
Kafka Joint
Nothing can justify your silence,
Unless you really don't want to talk about it.
Nat Lipstadt
Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
it is all I know.

Jan 6, 2013
your effusive and lengthy comments are each a poem in their own right.  

Tinkered with June 22, 2013
With a push from Bala,
A serial peeper, thank God!
Qualyxian Quest
I'm a troubled soul
With a bipolar mind
I take my injections
I hope you treat me kind

I like True Grit
Star Trek, O Brother
23 years later
I still miss my mother

California snow
Reno black smoke sky
Courage, please courage,
When it comes my time to die

                Aye! Aye! Aye!
You can’t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
A new form
Of beautiful

a somewhat older poem
the jew in you,
you long suspected,
or long lamented.

too bad,
the absence of
this moniker if it  
ain’t applicable directly
to your sorry ***.

after all who doesn’t
want to be among the
ch-ch-chosen peeps?

this blessing
in disguise,
it’s very special
to be hated by

the great equalizer,
highlighting your
choicest features
race, gender, roman nose,
etc., etc., etc.

but like the song said,
though somebody may
hate unlucky you,
everybody, no exceptions,
hates the jews.

everyone knows
the jews own the banks.
everybody hates the banks
who leave you on hold,
leaving you, wondering why,
they won’t give you back
at the ATM, the good money
you lent them,
so you must be
minimum 10%
shrewish (shhhh-jewish) or
whaat! why?

yup, your deposit is
a liability on their books,
(they owe it back to you)
so you too are
a moneylender,

welcome to the club,
the club of being
a liability.

we jews travel
around the world,
chased out from
almost everywhere.

so we invented the
and the world gave
us steerage class
to remind us,
even the jew in you,
that’s OUR special place.

(All) Jewish Lives Matter!
(don’t get me started...)
Creator Sun
You probably won't see this,
But what I want to say is that I.
I hate you.

You're stupid.
There isn't enough words to describe your awfulnesses.

So why does it hurt?
Why does it hurt when I push you away?
Why does it hurt when you chase someone else?
Why does it hurt so much?

As much as I want to say 'I hate you!',
I realise that I.
I love you.

It's stupid, isn't it?
If I told you this, you'll laugh at me.
Reject me. Pity me.
I just know you will.

And that's why I never told you.
That's why I kept pushing you away.
That's why I'm drifting away, drifting away
From my light. You.

But absence makes the heart fonder,
Doesn't it?
It hurts so much, it feels like I've
Left my heart behind. With you.
I'm salty that my poem got lost due to a connection error. Anyways, do you think this letter fits a Tsundere or Utsudere better? I'm experimenting with letter formats in an attempt to raise my motivation for my scenario writing which is where I've been focusing most of my attention onto. I have a lit exam tomorrow too, so extra practice in analysing my own poem for me!
We hug
We kiss
We cuddle
In bed

We were just friends
We made out
To him
We were having ***
To me
We were making love
I was his friends with benefits
But he was my lover
No more lies
or games
no shame taken

I am
what I am
and will
with no fibre of me
just to make you feel
Eric Martin
I feel sick
Rotten to the core
All I want to do is quit
I can't take it any more

Nothing I do will stick
And just makes me feel more sore
I think about ending it
But I can't loose this war

I know there's no trick
To make me feel like I did before
But I'll keep on trying to make some thing fit
Because I believe life has more for me in store
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you
Below the starry sky,
Under the shade of the mango tree,
He said to her "I'm never giving up on you."
That's when they realised,
That they were meant to be.
Everything happens for a reason
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
Allison Wonder
Get out
Go away,
I've been working hard
For too many days.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Not with you there
Herding all my sheep.

Get out
Go away,
My head's so full
And heavy with clay.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Afraid of monsters
That are sure to creep.

Get out
Go away,
I never said
That you could stay.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Could end it all
With just... one... leap...
(c) Alliso Wonder
If I could sleep until tomorrow
Then I’d be fine
But I couldn't be bothered
The way today is designed
Too pish
Too posh
Too easy to slip
Right back to dreamland is my only wish
He was glowing in my eyes
A blazing star that could never die
So bright that he made me cry
Forget the crimson lips and heart,
forget they made you pale
Just write about your aching being,
Forget the fairytale.

Paint not a picture of your dreams,
Envisaging sweet laughters
Face life and look beyond,
Beyond the happily ever afters.
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
atticus wilson
“Why are you alive”
“You don’t deserve this”
“They would be better off without you”
“Leave and don’t come back”
“Push everyone away”
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