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micaela drew
My heart aches
I never knew one person
could make me feel so much pain

My soul breaks
Our relationship worsens
And both of us are to blame

You are my love
My first time  
My good morning kisses
My goodnight hugs
My year long love
My first everything

But what am I to you?

Your first ****
Your burden to bear
Your sigh of relief
When I’m not there
Your fat girlfriend
Your ball and chain

But no matter what
You will always be my first love
Yet I’ll never be good enough
So as much as it pains me to say
We need to break up

I can't feel you
the same as I am.

We don't talk,

But you don't
to me,

And I,
at all.

It isn't on purpose,
Recovery is still working
it's way into my ****.
Don't tell me I'm pretty
Tell me that I'm passionate
That I have drive
Tell me that I make you laugh
That I know how to make your day better
Don't tell me I seem nice
Tell me that I'm kind and compassionate
Tell me that I'm not afraid to dream and to dream big
Don't tell me I'm perfect
Tell me the you love me despite my flaws
That you want to spend the rest of your life with me
Don't tell me I'm beautiful
Tell me that you'll be faithful and forever true
Twilight Zone
She feels and knows
she is so very independent
in his holster.

She would rather eat
her front teeth than to
be away from him.

She just loves being
submissive because
she gets her way.

Yet he still respects
her as if she was a feminist.

Yet she still looks
eye level with him.

The canyons in his
gray eyes shine bright.

Yes love adds stature to us all.

If this is what it's like to
be a fool then it's so cool.

If she is his gun her bullets
will only be dandelions.  

Oh only one angel
can dance on the head
of a dandelion.

This is where the
power comes from when
She starts bowing
without worshiping.
I wish I had never met you
But at the same time, you taught me things
Don't trust others easy
Don't let them in easy
You left my stomach feeling queasy
Uneasy for a week
Making my heart feel bleak
I kept trying to seek your approval
Your love and your heart
Though you didn't want me anymore
So I just fell apart
You said you loved me from the start
You said it too easily though,
Then took it all back at the end
That's what tore me apart
We'd talk about our future together
Late at night when we should be sleeping
But now I lay awake in my bed at night
Alone and weeping
You were so far away so it's not like I could make you want me
She could give you something I couldn't
I wish I had never met you
But thank you for everything you had taught me.
Some poets write with pen
And others with pain
Just a random thought...
Blue Melody
I love you.
Platonically of course.
But I love you.

You make
me feel okay
as a whole
not a piece hidden

You don't seem
bothered by
any part my me
even the crazy

My dear friend,
you had better not lie to me.

Don't hide away
your heart from me.
I want to see

All the scuffs
all the scars
all the cracks
all the tears


I don't care
how dark it gets
I live in darkness,
too, *****.

Don't think for a second
that I'll scare easily
Your struggles is not
on my list of phobias.

So please,

Don't hide
from me.
Don't lie
to me.

I don't like fake.
I don't want
to be friends
with a lie.

So please,
Trust me.

it'll be okay.
I won't hurt you.
If I did,
I would hate myself.

You know how I am.
I consider you my best friend, you... half-brit!
You had better believe it.
Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.
DISCLAIMER: This is only from my personal point of view and how my battle with depression has been. Even though I am trying to recover, the battle gets very difficult for me sometimes and I have to remind myself that I am not my mental illness. My mental illness does not define me.
Captain Trips
I'm sorry for all the complaining
I did as a child when you asked me to vacuum the stairs. Really it was one
of my only chores.

Now when I visit and climb them,
the dusty, darkened corners of carpet
bring me to a violent halt.

The ***** stairs haunt me Mom.
Leviathan Andrew
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.
The state of Florida is now home to the two most deadly mass shootings in American history. Pulse Nightclub was attacked in my city, I have friends who attend Marjory Stoneman Douglas in Parkland. My little sister often fears going to school. I'm afraid to graduate and leave her. I want to be able to protect her if something happens. I hate that we have a reason to be afraid... That it's reasonable to have these fears. I hate it so f*cking much.
Erica C
never trust a poet's words
they sound sweet at first
but you'll notice the emotion in their words
it all sounds too...
"i love you like the sea loves the shore"
becomes too scripted
you hear the small tinge of love actually left in their voice
hoping it could mean something
but it doesn't
it never does
it's just the way they say it
one day, after they have left
you will find their poems, and they will be the exact words that they had said to you
once long ago
please understand this poem is in a way just me talking to myself, reminding me to not trust a man who i once loved, thank you
Jaxey Lindholm
"look at the stars!"
You said smiling beside me
And I just shook my head
As I starred into the pitch black darkness of the sky
Wondering why I couldn't see them too
Can you help me see the light in all of this darkness?
I am tethering on the edge again
plagued by decisions, too many
the path to travel is nowhere in sight
all that I have left is melancholy.

I remember how I got to this place
it was certain that I would always be right
yet at every fork, I went wrong or left
now there’s no going back, try as I might.

At sorrow’s end I see myself again
as a farmer trying to grow his future
drawing from the well of memories
tilling the fields like a Repugnant Creature.

The choice is simple when I think about it
to savor the moment, or to sacrifice
yet the edge I stand on, rocking back and forth
I cannot find happiness, regardless of the price.

“Fly”, screams the wind, pushing me ever so gently
“Stay”, say the memories, holding me back in place.
“Fight” mumbles my own inner voice
“Pray”, says the world that put me in this cage.

Weary, I sit down on that cliff
staring for answers in that dark abyss
fighting to undo the chains that bind me
all I ever wanted was a little bit of bliss.

This place is cruel, but so am I
unwilling to give up or to fly away
to go anywhere, just not here
my will won’t be undone, it will not sway.

This is another fork, just like before
a battle to be fought before I have recovered
a question that needs an answer right now
To sever, or to be severed?
Contemplating some tough decisions in real life, this is just but a reflection of what's going through my mind.
how do you know when (a human is too broken?)


human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed

so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
Should my body be a temple
I do not want it to be
a high cathedral in Rome.
I do not want its walls.
I do not want it to be
a protestant church.
I want my body
as a temple
hidden in the deep Amazon forests.
Because my body is... Wow.
My body is magic.
My body is tangled tree tops,
My body is waxy walls,
skin shining from jojoba oil.
My body is vines tangling,
limbs which swing freely from
any place.
My body is sacred
on my own terms.
Ink is not to touch the surface.
Ink is not to cover the walls.
I want them
and brown
and muddy
like reviving clay
mixed with rosewater and honey.
My temple is only to be marked by
and rains
and catastrophies.
Should my body be a temple
it will be honest and rough and brutal.
Like the rainforest it will be
with the dark ghosts
running freely.
I do not wish for my body immortality.
Let my temple fall apart
under uncaring skies,
set ablazed by the sun,
blown away by the wind.
Let it waste away under
the violence of nature
for should my body be a temple
let it be at peace with the earth and the cosmos.
That is the only way I know
my body would be effortless and wise.
Not behind stone and marble.
Not inhabited by a choir of angels.
Not decorated in gold and silver.
Should my body be a temple
let it be a wild animal scream
in the middle of the night.
Let it be texture,
then death.
Cuts on my wrists
hands curled into fists
will i even be missed

Writing a note
i wrote
i love you and it wasn't your fault

That's a lie
i want to die and
its partly your fault

I can't tell you that so i
Sit and i cry

Why do i
Live like this

Will i even be missed
I am not in a good place anymore
I don't want to be here!
Mr Quiet
I could give you the entire universe but then I would just be giving you yourself.
but it's true tho.
When You Used To Call Me Mine
Part 14/14
I am dancing
with your demons,
and you're dancing
with mine.
And for a moment,  
we forgot we're in ****.
We're not living, we're just killing time.
you said
you were afraid
to lose me
and then you
faced your fears
and left
You’re covering something
Hiding it so patiently
Waiting for the time
To let it out
Painfully .
I can see it in your eyes
I can sense it when you talk
A really bad secret
That You could live without

You mask it so well
Until the blanket gets too hot
The feeling inside
You just want to get out
Bruised emotions
Shaky vibrations
Eyes are leaking
So intrusive
Don’t worry
I won’t judge
Just let me know
What will make you budge
Speaking from the heart
A reall soul seeker
Let me be your healer
Some things just digg  deeper .
You're not a good person,
Why did I ever think that you were?

You lie.
But not about your feelings
I lie
Because of fear

I play it off like it's nothing
You see through me.
You always know something
That somewhere
I feel.

But these same feelings you give
That I give
You've never given to anyone else

I only wish that they saw
How I felt.

You make me feel warm

But I don't know if I would ever feel appreciated.

I feel like you will use me,
I'm a match,
You will burn me,
Consume me.
Set my core on fire

Until I feel ashes build up in my lungs

And you will leave me,
Just as you always have
The tiny cigarette ends.

The only remnants of myself being the leftover ash on your fingertips.
For when you burned me alive
Inside and out.
When my father died
For the third time,
He left behind a backpack

It was dusty and black in the back
Of my mother’s black trunk
It stunk
Of cigarettes, desperation,and neglect
For weeks I had stared at it
Not daring to touch it
Not daring to feel his absence

But today was no ordinary day
Today I felt brave
Today I picked up that old backpack, opened it, and reached inside
My hands stumbled on: old papers,
Wrinkled and adorned with coffee stains,
A rusty kitchen knife,
An unopened package of red pills

I searched and searched that old, dusty, sack—
My eyes skimmed over the  scribble scrabble written upon the papers
My fingertips ran across the dirt-caked
I searched and searched that old, dusty sack
for an “I love her”
for an “I’m sorry”
for a “I tried to call her back”

But I found in that old sack
Useless items that don’t love me back

I looked at that sack,
and it looked at me back,
And I tossed that old sack
without looking back
Cause’ neither did he.
Neglect Parents Teenagehood Abandonment depression relationships Fathers Triumph Toxicity
Bipasha Dutt
Though the lotus shares a bond
With the muddy and murky pond,

Yet lotus is holy and precious,
As our birth never defines us.

What we make out of ourselves is vital,
Only that aspect is important and crucial.
Jude kyrie
Touch me. In the night
Like starlight lights the room.
Softly as their light
Falls upon us in its bloom

Touch me in the night
As the starlight sparkles
the darkened hours
Softly with its breath as
it submits to its gentle powers.

Touch me in the night
As a spark lights raging fires
Burning tender in passions bright
Smolder me in sweet desires.

Hold me close so all is right
Touch me in the night
We are not made to sleep alone
She Writes
You asked me why I like you
But I didn’t want to tell
Some of my reasons are cheesy...
But here is why I fell

I love the way your lips curve
When I make you smile
It makes me want to pull you close
And kiss you for awhile

I love the way your eyes twinkle
When you talk about things you love
I truely believe
You are a gift from above

I love that you are compassionate
You have such a big heart
That was the first thing I noticed
Right from the start

I love the way it feels
When you hold me tight
I finally feel safe
Like I could sleep through the night

I love that you don’t judge me
For my less than perfect self
That is more attractive
Than any amount of wealth

There are so many more reasons
But I’ll start with just this few
Maybe someday
I’ll give this poem to you

I want you to know.
That even in this challenging time,
I still love you.
With all my broken, shattered and torn apart heart.
it's true--
i don't love you anymore.

but sometimes i catch your eye between waves in the surf,
that same ocean blue i've always known

like summers by the beach, you are long forgotten like my childhood,
days and nights spent drinking the stars

i will never forget what they taste like
i will never forget what you taste like.

it's true--
i don't love you anymore.

i am with another,
he is more than you ever could have been for me but

why do i still crave your inadequacy?
he is my whole galaxy, his beauty is unmatched and

oh how he makes me feel but
why am i still dreaming about you?

i don't love you anymore-- i promise,
we moved on so long ago i forget what goodbye sounds like

i'm lying.
i could never forget the way you said that,

like it took the strength of a million tsunamis to just
keep it together but oh i don't love you anymore!

it's what i've been trying to say i'm sorry but sometimes
the emotion in my own words gets so caught in my throat

i forget how to breathe because
i still see your eyes between the waves.
inspired by pablo neruda...
Madeline Thetard
Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
3. Today I smiled at someone in the hall.
4. They didn't smile back.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
6. Turns out I'm not invisible -- then why can't anyone see me?
7. Today I made a fake Instagram account under a trendy name from the 1960s to see whether I knew any people who had real Instagram accounts.
8. All of the accounts were private save for one.
9. Today I forced myself to be happy for a particular past crush who posted lots of pictures on Instagram with his new girlfriend. Hurrah.
10. Today I looked at everyone's smiling faces and wondered why I wasn't smiling with them.
11. Today I wondered why some people are complete idiots.
12. Today I wondered why my skin tone - white as milk - should make people believe that I can't handle spice, or make people believe that I am ******.
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
13. Today I comforted someone who said she had no love life.
14. I didn't have the courage to tell her that I've never had a love life and probably never will.
15. Today I told someone I write poetry and they laughed at me.
16. Today I cried in front of a mirror while singing a made-up song that wasn't even sad.
17. Today I told people I was fine when I really was not.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
18. I wish I was invisible.
19. If I were invisible maybe it wouldn't hurt so much 'cause I know I'm here but people refuse to see it.
20. Can I please just be invisible?
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
Not in a fantastic mood right now.
i touched your soul
and scribbled my name on it
love, you’ll never get lost again
I spent last night
Crunching numbers

Times you led me on

Nights we stayed up talking

Weeks since you decided I wasn’t worth it

Crushed up poems on the floor of my room

Outfits thrown aside to make sure I look my best

Days I spent trying to get over you

Friends that know what we did

3 a.m FaceTime calls

Coats of mascara

Big regret
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
Inspired by the Vanity Fair article of André Aciman's reaction to his book *Call Me By Your Name* being made into a movie. Specifically the quote, "I couldn't write silence."
I feel... Anger
Unbridled rage, undying fury, like a wildfire through Rome
I bring **** to those who have wronged me, sorrow to those who haven't, and death to all who oppose me
Yet, I also feel love
And pain
And excitement
But it always comes back to anger
Those I love leave, those who love me die, and all I love must end
The pain is always inflicted, rarely tolerable.... And rage always follows
Excited for a new adventure, a new romance, a new friend, a new experience
Yet it was all a lie
The adventure led to pain, the partner a liar, the friend a foe, the experience flawed
So all I have is anger
And the fires shall burn forever
(Prose) This was a prompt on a very lovely website called Write The World. I thought I should post it here as well.
i wish i could get you
out of my head;
but how does one forget a love
so sweet it
left a touch of sugar
on the tongue

sometimes the simplest
most innocent things
become so beautiful.  

i left behind your ocean
hued eyes and found
myself in the arms of a new
kind of love.
i guess i didn’t want to feel
any more rooted than
i already was.

lately i’ve been catching myself
reminiscing about little moments
without looking at the big picture.
i see the blue ocean tint in my
rear view mirror,
although leaving is bittersweet
it’s best we go our separate ways
explore, grow, learn
maybe we’ll meet again some day.
I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.
Stanley Wilkin
Dive bombers, black wings spread,
satanic angels: Two crows attacked another
broken on the long grass,
consumed by grappling weeds,
unable to fly and imprisoned within
the soft melding soil as if caught
nesting; I watched from afar; a spectator at an accident
unwilling to intervene.
Darting beak, defending itself with desperate
protests: they swooped again and again-
stukas in the old war, squarking demonically
wings flapping like black pistons geared up for death-
again and again they drilled into the world of men
boring down until
in the fading light, head bowed,
the damaged crow surrendered
and vomitted out its last stored-up breath,
shining ebony slashed, in a flurry
of dangling flesh, its life hacked away-blood
dripping from its bill-
hacked away in the cold air,
its brothers, like brothers everywhere,
gorging on its flesh.

By then, I had had enough,
I refused to watch anymore. The bird
a meal for its own kind,
soon just scattered feathers
repositioning the light.
Its darkness, once a threat,
with its suggestion of forboding
now merely signalling innocence,
the victim of misrepresentation.
I left a scene that did not truly
embrace reflection, an unusual
carnival of life and death in a city
that rejected both.
Everything I write, everything I draw; delete

The things I create, I cannot complete

Is it being insecure or being lazy?                                                            ­                                                                 ­     

I don't know how to be a productive lady                    

I feel ******                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                  

Since I can't anything executed

My work lives in the recycling bin

It's close in resemblance to a din

The backspace key is faded

My soul is abraded

I hate that I can't articulate

Does anyone else relate?

At least this poem is finished but it has no real end                                                              ­                                

I hope it shows what I intend
Barely Together

                               - Jocelyn Kay

How is it I hold myself together
When you’re around me
And I can breathe
The air around your skin

How is it I don’t cry always
Don’t collapse, don’t capsize
Every atom of me aching as I watch you be someone else’s

Selfish I am, the pain is of my own making
I’m happy you’re happy, but I’m shivering and tired
I’ll hold it together
But only for you

You don’t need to know, you don’t need the drama
I’ll hold it all in
And try to be me
Feeling my insides exploding
Calm, outwardly

Was this meant to happen?
Did I mess up a past life

Is there really just one Destiny?
Where do I find peace
Where do I find solace
Where do I find the happiness that I seek
Where am I headed
Where will I land

Will it just be another barren island

All we can do is hope,

Cling to that everthinning rope

To change is to die, and I’m broken inside

Will you leave me?
Will time split our paths in two?
Will I get to see you?
Can I still love you

Is it answers I seek? Or shallow distraction

I don’t believe in You.

But help me Lord
sage short
Taking a deep breath is hard when your neck is being squished. And your eyes are wet, painted with tears.
I hate holding them back. The “crying breath” I have is uneven. ‘I’m just sniffling!’ type of sniffles, as if there’s not snot running up and down my nostrils.
I get in a steaming hot shower; not wanting to bathe, but wanting to escape. Watching beads of water hit my raised skin calms my heartbeat, but also gives me a sense of sadness. When you’re sad, you start to notice little things like the pattern of your breath, the serious line spread upon your lips when someone tells a joke in hopes of cheering you up, the gulps you take, and your milky, glazed eyes staring blankly back at you in the mirror you haven’t cleaned in weeks because you didn’t have enough energy to walk up and down the stairs to get the cleaner and to put it back. You start to pretend. You pretend to love, and to hate. You hate the world and everyone so much, but only because you are hurting and you don’t want to hurt others by letting them in, or them to hurt you too.

Nonetheless, you hurt anyway.
Maybe 10 years from today,
Maybe only 1 year away,
Or even just 1 day,
I will be able to say...
Words that should be said
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