Borehgit - Hello Poetry

The sand slips through my fingers, like the hands of your ghost. The mirrors in our house hold your figure like picture frames, small reenactments of the past. A reminder that there’s no one else I’d rather be haunted by.

0

7h ago

Jun 3, 2026 at 12:09 PM UTC

The great void

The sand slips through my fingers, like the hands of your ghost. The mirrors in our house hold your figure like picture frames, small reenactments of the past. A reminder that there’s no one else I’d rather be haunted by.

1

If it weren’t for the wrinkles in our skin, I’d swear you left yesterday.

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Jan 18

Jan 18, 2026 at 1:34 AM UTC

Untitled

If it weren’t for the wrinkles in our skin, I’d swear you left yesterday.

1

It’s was a cold winter night, when your breath circled your lips. The snowflakes danced along your body, my hands frozen still. You slid your hands through your coated hair, as it settled back along on your face. The stars reflected from the ice beneath your feet, and for once the world fell completely still.

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Nov 3, 2025

Nov 3, 2025 at 10:39 PM UTC

Time stopper

It’s was a cold winter night, when your breath circled your lips. The snowflakes danced along your body, my hands frozen still. You slid your hands through your coated hair, as it settled back along on your face. The stars reflected from the ice beneath your feet, and for once the world fell completely still.

1

I pulled you from my dreams, because I still had so much to say. Although age has settled in, your eyes are still the same. I know this took forever but here it goes. I still remember the walls in your room on the second floor of your parent’s home. I remember the bunk bed and your clothes scattered across the wooden floor. Tapping your fingers to your lips, as we guessed who opened their eyes first. It was all new and exciting. Cigarette smoke danced from our lungs to our lips as we talked. We spoke of marriage and of death. The places we wanted to see and the people we had yet to meet. Those summer nights still feel like yesterday to me. A never wilting flower, that remains in color amongst a field of gray. I’m sorry time gave us a test we clearly failed. But it’s my favorite failure. Our hands remain apart, but our fingers stay crossed.

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Jan 6, 2025

Jan 6, 2025 at 3:31 PM UTC

It all feels like quicksand.

I pulled you from my dreams, because I still had so much to say. Although age has settled in, your eyes are still the same. I know this took forever but here it goes. I still remember the walls in your room on the second floor of your parent’s home. I remember the bunk bed and your clothes scattered across the wooden floor. Tapping your fingers to your lips, as we guessed who opened their eyes first. It was all new and exciting. Cigarette smoke danced from our lungs to our lips as we talked. We spoke of marriage and of death. The places we wanted to see and the people we had yet to meet. Those summer nights still feel like yesterday to me. A never wilting flower, that remains in color amongst a field of gray. I’m sorry time gave us a test we clearly failed. But it’s my favorite failure. Our hands remain apart, but our fingers stay crossed.

3

Fleeing, but we are one for a chase. Grasping the strands that are still left. Configuring the past in screenplays as we sleep. The perfect symphony of hauntingly beautiful memories. The snow builds within it's globe, as two ghostly lovers pirouette to 13 pieces, Op. 76: 2. Etude. Her dress swaying with the wind, his eyes forever fixed on hers.

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Dec 7, 2024

Dec 7, 2024 at 4:14 AM UTC

Piano keys

Fleeing, but we are one for a chase. Grasping the strands that are still left. Configuring the past in screenplays as we sleep. The perfect symphony of hauntingly beautiful memories. The snow builds within it's globe, as two ghostly lovers pirouette to 13 pieces, Op. 76: 2. Etude. Her dress swaying with the wind, his eyes forever fixed on hers.

3

I guess we have an innate love for breathing, I mean why else would we awake from dreaming?

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Aug 12, 2024

Aug 12, 2024 at 11:06 PM UTC

The sleep well effect

I guess we have an innate love for breathing, I mean why else would we awake from dreaming?

1

With each loss a little light leaves your eyes, goodbyes have nothing to do with sunsets.

0

Aug 10, 2024

Aug 10, 2024 at 8:03 PM UTC

Moco

With each loss a little light leaves your eyes, goodbyes have nothing to do with sunsets.

1

Do you still remember the New York Philharmonic? We laid beneath a snowfall of stars, as the fireworks fought for our attention. The summer sweat kissing the small of our backs, as the moon settled directly above our sheet. Like a reel of film, our lips grew closer with each flash from the stage. The distant noise fading slowly to silence, as your heartbeat grew louder with each beat. That was the moment I knew, you felt it too.

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Jul 21, 2024

Jul 21, 2024 at 12:13 AM UTC

Memories Funneled To Dreams.

Do you still remember the New York Philharmonic? We laid beneath a snowfall of stars, as the fireworks fought for our attention. The summer sweat kissing the small of our backs, as the moon settled directly above our sheet. Like a reel of film, our lips grew closer with each flash from the stage. The distant noise fading slowly to silence, as your heartbeat grew louder with each beat. That was the moment I knew, you felt it too.

2

There is no longer a need for sleep. My dreams now manifest in daylight. These white knuckles wrestle stars into one another against the morning sky. The vail of daylight slowly emerges. pushing your face back into the darkness. It’s never the version we want, this thing called love.

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Jul 19, 2024

Jul 19, 2024 at 8:12 PM UTC

Subtle flashes

There is no longer a need for sleep. My dreams now manifest in daylight. These white knuckles wrestle stars into one another against the morning sky. The vail of daylight slowly emerges. pushing your face back into the darkness. It’s never the version we want, this thing called love.

1

When you lost your father, you told me life must run its course. I remember thinking you were so brave, although you fell asleep with my hand still wrapped in yours. That night you were sure you heard him speak, as lights from passing cars crawled from your toes up to your knees. I love you dear and one day you’ll be ok

0

Jul 19, 2024

Jul 19, 2024 at 8:10 PM UTC

Changes

When you lost your father, you told me life must run its course. I remember thinking you were so brave, although you fell asleep with my hand still wrapped in yours. That night you were sure you heard him speak, as lights from passing cars crawled from your toes up to your knees. I love you dear and one day you’ll be ok

1