FormlessMars - Hello Poetry

Let me trace the shape of you with my tongue Like a map you don't want to follow. Let me mark the places on your body with a kiss, Like those you wish were different. Like the curves you want sharpened, Or the softness you wish would harden. I will hold you in front of the mirror Tilting your head back and narrowing your eyes Until you see nothing but the queen that stands before you. The most beautiful girl in the world. But all those mirrors I break So you only ever see yourself through my eyes. I see a body sculpted from quiet chaos, A face that rewrites beauty with every breath, A shape that was never meant to fit into anything except the space it already filled. You would see the storm wrapped in silk. A universe too vast to be contained by skin. A masterpiece that commands no correction yet, You don't see it because you were taught to measure yourself in flaws. Taught to carve yourself down until all that remains is what the world wants. Taught to shrink, to erase. But I am here and I refuse to let you disappear. Let me show you how your eyes hold galaxies when they catch the light just right, Or the way your skin sings beneath my hands, Or the way your lips curve like poetry before it's spoken. Let me show you the beauty in every scar On every inch of flesh you've learned to hate, Every part of you that's carried you this far. Let me trace your body with my fingertips until you understand That this is art. This is the perfection without the lie. This is flawless, Not because it is void of imperfection, But because it was never meant to be anything else. Let me love you until you have no choice but to believe me. Let me f__k you until our pleasure rewrites every cruel thing you've ever told yourself. Until you stand in front of the mirror and finally see: Not a question, Not a flaw, Not a mistake... But a miracle.

0

Mar 10

Mar 10, 2026 at 3:17 AM UTC

A little bit about her

Let me trace the shape of you with my tongue Like a map you don't want to follow. Let me mark the places on your body with a kiss, Like those you wish were different. Like the curves you want sharpened, Or the softness you wish would harden. I will hold you in front of the mirror Tilting your head back and narrowing your eyes Until you see nothing but the queen that stands before you. The most beautiful girl in the world. But all those mirrors I break So you only ever see yourself through my eyes. I see a body sculpted from quiet chaos, A face that rewrites beauty with every breath, A shape that was never meant to fit into anything except the space it already filled. You would see the storm wrapped in silk. A universe too vast to be contained by skin. A masterpiece that commands no correction yet, You don't see it because you were taught to measure yourself in flaws. Taught to carve yourself down until all that remains is what the world wants. Taught to shrink, to erase. But I am here and I refuse to let you disappear. Let me show you how your eyes hold galaxies when they catch the light just right, Or the way your skin sings beneath my hands, Or the way your lips curve like poetry before it's spoken. Let me show you the beauty in every scar On every inch of flesh you've learned to hate, Every part of you that's carried you this far. Let me trace your body with my fingertips until you understand That this is art. This is the perfection without the lie. This is flawless, Not because it is void of imperfection, But because it was never meant to be anything else. Let me love you until you have no choice but to believe me. Let me f__k you until our pleasure rewrites every cruel thing you've ever told yourself. Until you stand in front of the mirror and finally see: Not a question, Not a flaw, Not a mistake... But a miracle.

41

It’s about that time again Inevitably I think of you and read over the chapters we’ve written Chapters which would have no words had you not shown me how to use them And yet you probably wouldn’t believe that the marks you made permanent I try to go longer and longer without thinking about you But that streak ends very quickly And I remember counting the stars in your eyes without you noticing Laying on my bed together laughing at the most ridiculous things Things unfunny but amazing because it was time spent with you Playing games together until you fell asleep because I was one of your favourite pastimes I understand the scars I’ve given you were lifelong But I knew not how to use my tools and the I knew not the person holding them And little by little I learn and understand That the one thing I always wanted was you Teaching my hands how to hold things without breaking them Teaching my hands how to hold you better I want to make things right again and lay those puzzle pieces where they are meant to be But I don’t know how I lost you to a void I am a stranger in Without you I feel lost and a part of me is missing I am glad that I am going to die with your name on my chest because the angels deserve to know the name of the woman who made me half of who I am You are the wish I make upon a burning star A wish I make regardless And if this is a life of wait then wait I will because nothing else is worth the effort of fixing the mistakes I made May soon come the day I hear your voice again I miss you

0

Feb 2

Feb 2, 2026 at 10:34 PM UTC

About that time

It’s about that time again Inevitably I think of you and read over the chapters we’ve written Chapters which would have no words had you not shown me how to use them And yet you probably wouldn’t believe that the marks you made permanent I try to go longer and longer without thinking about you But that streak ends very quickly And I remember counting the stars in your eyes without you noticing Laying on my bed together laughing at the most ridiculous things Things unfunny but amazing because it was time spent with you Playing games together until you fell asleep because I was one of your favourite pastimes I understand the scars I’ve given you were lifelong But I knew not how to use my tools and the I knew not the person holding them And little by little I learn and understand That the one thing I always wanted was you Teaching my hands how to hold things without breaking them Teaching my hands how to hold you better I want to make things right again and lay those puzzle pieces where they are meant to be But I don’t know how I lost you to a void I am a stranger in Without you I feel lost and a part of me is missing I am glad that I am going to die with your name on my chest because the angels deserve to know the name of the woman who made me half of who I am You are the wish I make upon a burning star A wish I make regardless And if this is a life of wait then wait I will because nothing else is worth the effort of fixing the mistakes I made May soon come the day I hear your voice again I miss you

26

I should be better. I should be the man who reaches for your hand without hesitation, who speaks in soft tones and knows the right words, who doesn’t flinch when love is placed before him like a gift he has never deserved. But I am not. I am sharp edges and broken glass, a locked door with no key, a storm that does not know how to do anything but destroy what it touches. I love you more than life, but my love comes out wrong. It comes out in silence when you need words, in words when you need silence, in distance when you need closeness, in fire when you need warmth. I don’t know how to be gentle. I don’t know how to hold something precious without cracking it in my hands. You tell me I am cruel. That I make you feel small. That loving me is a wound that never quite heals. I want to say I don’t mean it, but what does that matter? A blade doesn’t have to mean to cut to make you bleed. And you are bleeding. Because of me. Because I don’t know how to let myself be loved without turning it into something ugly. Because I don’t know how to take your kindness without twisting it into something sharp and throwing it back at you. Because I am trying to ruin this before you realize I am already ruined. And yet— I want you to stay. I want you to choose me even as I make you hate me. I want you to love me even as I give you nothing to hold onto. I want you to see through the wreckage and find something worth saving. But I know better. I know you will leave. I know I will let you. I know I will watch you walk away and say nothing, do nothing, pretend it does not split me open from the inside. And when they ask me what happened, I will say— "I loved her." And they will not understand why that was never enough.

0

Apr 3, 2025

Apr 3, 2025 at 11:14 AM UTC

The Man Who Should Have Loved You Better

I should be better. I should be the man who reaches for your hand without hesitation, who speaks in soft tones and knows the right words, who doesn’t flinch when love is placed before him like a gift he has never deserved. But I am not. I am sharp edges and broken glass, a locked door with no key, a storm that does not know how to do anything but destroy what it touches. I love you more than life, but my love comes out wrong. It comes out in silence when you need words, in words when you need silence, in distance when you need closeness, in fire when you need warmth. I don’t know how to be gentle. I don’t know how to hold something precious without cracking it in my hands. You tell me I am cruel. That I make you feel small. That loving me is a wound that never quite heals. I want to say I don’t mean it, but what does that matter? A blade doesn’t have to mean to cut to make you bleed. And you are bleeding. Because of me. Because I don’t know how to let myself be loved without turning it into something ugly. Because I don’t know how to take your kindness without twisting it into something sharp and throwing it back at you. Because I am trying to ruin this before you realize I am already ruined. And yet— I want you to stay. I want you to choose me even as I make you hate me. I want you to love me even as I give you nothing to hold onto. I want you to see through the wreckage and find something worth saving. But I know better. I know you will leave. I know I will let you. I know I will watch you walk away and say nothing, do nothing, pretend it does not split me open from the inside. And when they ask me what happened, I will say— "I loved her." And they will not understand why that was never enough.

55

I can be anyone you want, darling, I can shift, I can bend, I can— I can break. Oh, I can break. But right now— right now— right now I need to be your lover. Not a stranger, not a shadow, not a MAYBE ONE DAY… I need to be the breath in your lungs, the static under your skin, the ache in your bones when you wake up too fast and swear you felt me there. I was… But time is a cruel, slow god and patience is a cage with rusted bars and I I I am losing myself inside it. I can see it. I can see US Not in fragments, not in fleeting dreams, not in— SOMEDAY But in a life with walls and windows and hands that don’t let go. In a world where waiting is over and we don’t bleed for time anymore. Where I am yours without a clock between us. But not yet… NOT YET Not yet, so I stay. Not yet, so I hold. Not yet, so I swallow the madness and let it simmer in my gut until it kills me from the inside out. I do not know how to be patient when the future already belongs to me. I do not know how to be sane when you exist in a time I cannot touch. I do not know how to be whole when half of me is waiting for you. My hands shake when I write your name. My thoughts slip like loose threads, unraveling, twisting, spelling things backwards— See? Se? Ees? But they all mean the same thing. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you and you are not even mine yet. Yet. Yet. YET.. I can be anyone you want, darling, I can wait, I can hold, I can burn, I can wear patience like a noose and call it devotion, I can I can I can BUT IT HURTS… God, it hurts. But you are worth every second

0

Mar 22, 2025

Mar 22, 2025 at 12:25 PM UTC

I can be anyone you want...

I can be anyone you want, darling, I can shift, I can bend, I can— I can break. Oh, I can break. But right now— right now— right now I need to be your lover. Not a stranger, not a shadow, not a MAYBE ONE DAY… I need to be the breath in your lungs, the static under your skin, the ache in your bones when you wake up too fast and swear you felt me there. I was… But time is a cruel, slow god and patience is a cage with rusted bars and I I I am losing myself inside it. I can see it. I can see US Not in fragments, not in fleeting dreams, not in— SOMEDAY But in a life with walls and windows and hands that don’t let go. In a world where waiting is over and we don’t bleed for time anymore. Where I am yours without a clock between us. But not yet… NOT YET Not yet, so I stay. Not yet, so I hold. Not yet, so I swallow the madness and let it simmer in my gut until it kills me from the inside out. I do not know how to be patient when the future already belongs to me. I do not know how to be sane when you exist in a time I cannot touch. I do not know how to be whole when half of me is waiting for you. My hands shake when I write your name. My thoughts slip like loose threads, unraveling, twisting, spelling things backwards— See? Se? Ees? But they all mean the same thing. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you and you are not even mine yet. Yet. Yet. YET.. I can be anyone you want, darling, I can wait, I can hold, I can burn, I can wear patience like a noose and call it devotion, I can I can I can BUT IT HURTS… God, it hurts. But you are worth every second

69

I have built a shrine to you in my ribs, lit candles behind my teeth, burned every whispered thought like incense and let the smoke of you fill my lungs. But you don’t see it. You don’t feel the weight of my hands pressed together in silent prayer, offering devotion to a god that does not answer. You move like gravity, pulling me in, holding me just close enough to taste what I will never touch. I know this is not love. Love is given, love is known, love is a bridge. This is something else— a ghost, a sickness, a dream that refuses to die no matter how many times I wake up. I have dissected every glance, read scripture in the way you say my name, built entire galaxies out of the empty spaces between us. You don’t know what it’s like to live inside a story that only plays in my head. You don’t know what it’s like to have your name carved into the marrow of my bones where even time cannot touch it. You don’t know what it’s like to starve for a love that does not exist. And still— I keep the shrine. I light the candles. I kneel. Because limerence is nothing if not the worship of something that was never real.

0

Mar 11, 2025

Mar 11, 2025 at 9:00 AM UTC

Limerence

I have built a shrine to you in my ribs, lit candles behind my teeth, burned every whispered thought like incense and let the smoke of you fill my lungs. But you don’t see it. You don’t feel the weight of my hands pressed together in silent prayer, offering devotion to a god that does not answer. You move like gravity, pulling me in, holding me just close enough to taste what I will never touch. I know this is not love. Love is given, love is known, love is a bridge. This is something else— a ghost, a sickness, a dream that refuses to die no matter how many times I wake up. I have dissected every glance, read scripture in the way you say my name, built entire galaxies out of the empty spaces between us. You don’t know what it’s like to live inside a story that only plays in my head. You don’t know what it’s like to have your name carved into the marrow of my bones where even time cannot touch it. You don’t know what it’s like to starve for a love that does not exist. And still— I keep the shrine. I light the candles. I kneel. Because limerence is nothing if not the worship of something that was never real.

36

I have run barefoot through the gravel of my past,  let it tear at my soles,  let it whisper that love was a road meant only to wound me. "I lost you."  Somewhere between the echoes and the empty spaces,  between the nights that stretched too long  and the mornings that never brought you back. I have sprinted through storms that cracked the sky open,  lightning lacing my ribs,  thunder pressing its heavy hands against my chest. "I chased you."  Through rain that washed away the footprints,  through roads that led everywhere but home. I have crawled through deserts of silence,  tongue thick with unsaid prayers,  sandpaper promises bleeding dry from my lips. "I need you."  Not as a whisper, but a cry.  Not as a choice, but a gravity, pulling me forward even when my legs don’t want to move. And then— there you are.  Standing at the edge of the horizon,  bathed in a light that turns pain into purpose. "I choose you."  Because love is not just about running,  not just about wanting.  It is about choosing—again and again,  even when the road is unkind. You are not a mirage.  Not a fleeting victory,  not a ribbon to break through and forget. You are the breath I’ve been chasing,  the gold I have burned for,  the line I would cross again and again,  even if the journey shattered me. Because what is struggle,  if not the proof that something is worth reaching?  What is endurance,  if not the language of love spoken in every aching muscle,  every ragged breath? "I reach you."  At last.  At the end of every broken road,  at the edge of every impossible dream. Let the miles stretch long,  let the night swallow the road whole—  I will keep moving. Because you—  "I reach you."  You are the final step that makes the journey worth it.  You are the banner I break through,  the arms I collapse into,  the finish line of every dream I have ever dared to chase.

0

Mar 2, 2025

Mar 2, 2025 at 12:35 PM UTC

Finish Line

I have run barefoot through the gravel of my past,  let it tear at my soles,  let it whisper that love was a road meant only to wound me. "I lost you."  Somewhere between the echoes and the empty spaces,  between the nights that stretched too long  and the mornings that never brought you back. I have sprinted through storms that cracked the sky open,  lightning lacing my ribs,  thunder pressing its heavy hands against my chest. "I chased you."  Through rain that washed away the footprints,  through roads that led everywhere but home. I have crawled through deserts of silence,  tongue thick with unsaid prayers,  sandpaper promises bleeding dry from my lips. "I need you."  Not as a whisper, but a cry.  Not as a choice, but a gravity, pulling me forward even when my legs don’t want to move. And then— there you are.  Standing at the edge of the horizon,  bathed in a light that turns pain into purpose. "I choose you."  Because love is not just about running,  not just about wanting.  It is about choosing—again and again,  even when the road is unkind. You are not a mirage.  Not a fleeting victory,  not a ribbon to break through and forget. You are the breath I’ve been chasing,  the gold I have burned for,  the line I would cross again and again,  even if the journey shattered me. Because what is struggle,  if not the proof that something is worth reaching?  What is endurance,  if not the language of love spoken in every aching muscle,  every ragged breath? "I reach you."  At last.  At the end of every broken road,  at the edge of every impossible dream. Let the miles stretch long,  let the night swallow the road whole—  I will keep moving. Because you—  "I reach you."  You are the final step that makes the journey worth it.  You are the banner I break through,  the arms I collapse into,  the finish line of every dream I have ever dared to chase.

55

The space between us is not just miles— it’s the ache in my ribs when I breathe, the way my hands forget their purpose without the weight of your hips to hold. I am a house with no windows, a room where the light refuses to stay. The world feels like a poorly written script— everyone else is laughing, but I can’t find the joke. I want to kiss you so badly it feels like a crime, like the universe has locked your lips in a glass case and hung a sign that says Do Not Touch. But I would break every rule, shatter every law of physics, just to feel the warmth of your mouth on mine. I miss the way your voice wraps around my name, how it sounds like a prayer I didn’t know I needed. I miss the way your laughter spills into the room, a symphony I’d trade my silence for in a heartbeat. I want to marry you— not in the way they show in movies, with the white dress and the perfect vows, but in the way that feels like coming home, like finding the missing piece of a puzzle I didn’t even know I was solving. Without you, the world is a grayscale film, a song played on a broken piano. I am a shadow of myself, a half-finished poem waiting for your hands to write the ending. Come back to me. Or let me come to you. Let me close this distance, this unbearable, infinite space that feels like it’s swallowing me whole. I am not whole without you. I am not anything.

0

Feb 11, 2025

Feb 11, 2025 at 5:05 AM UTC

Closer

The space between us is not just miles— it’s the ache in my ribs when I breathe, the way my hands forget their purpose without the weight of your hips to hold. I am a house with no windows, a room where the light refuses to stay. The world feels like a poorly written script— everyone else is laughing, but I can’t find the joke. I want to kiss you so badly it feels like a crime, like the universe has locked your lips in a glass case and hung a sign that says Do Not Touch. But I would break every rule, shatter every law of physics, just to feel the warmth of your mouth on mine. I miss the way your voice wraps around my name, how it sounds like a prayer I didn’t know I needed. I miss the way your laughter spills into the room, a symphony I’d trade my silence for in a heartbeat. I want to marry you— not in the way they show in movies, with the white dress and the perfect vows, but in the way that feels like coming home, like finding the missing piece of a puzzle I didn’t even know I was solving. Without you, the world is a grayscale film, a song played on a broken piano. I am a shadow of myself, a half-finished poem waiting for your hands to write the ending. Come back to me. Or let me come to you. Let me close this distance, this unbearable, infinite space that feels like it’s swallowing me whole. I am not whole without you. I am not anything.

42

You left without saying goodbye. Not a whisper, not a word, not even a reason why. You could have said anything, perhaps told a lie, But it would be better than nothing, a reason not to cry. You thought yourself a footnote in the universe, You were the spirit of my words, every line and every verse. You taught me how to write, How to take these feelings to colour from black and white. You gave me everything, mostly your time, While I gave you love and words that sometimes rhyme. But everything I had was simply not enough, Such that you left me in the dark and in the rough. I understand that I made mistakes, But in the recesses of my mind, a pathway paves, Looking for reasons why you walked away, From a home built for you, a place to stay. I want to tell you that I love you, but the words are not there, A heart once beating with no emotion to spare. I hope you read these words I've written, To find all the love yet to be given. I hope these words inspire you to think, For your name on my chest, in permanent ink. This chapter will never come to an end, For it is a chapter that only you and I could mend.

0

Oct 3, 2024

Oct 3, 2024 at 8:04 AM UTC

The Story Unfinished

You left without saying goodbye. Not a whisper, not a word, not even a reason why. You could have said anything, perhaps told a lie, But it would be better than nothing, a reason not to cry. You thought yourself a footnote in the universe, You were the spirit of my words, every line and every verse. You taught me how to write, How to take these feelings to colour from black and white. You gave me everything, mostly your time, While I gave you love and words that sometimes rhyme. But everything I had was simply not enough, Such that you left me in the dark and in the rough. I understand that I made mistakes, But in the recesses of my mind, a pathway paves, Looking for reasons why you walked away, From a home built for you, a place to stay. I want to tell you that I love you, but the words are not there, A heart once beating with no emotion to spare. I hope you read these words I've written, To find all the love yet to be given. I hope these words inspire you to think, For your name on my chest, in permanent ink. This chapter will never come to an end, For it is a chapter that only you and I could mend.

24

I found that I dislike sweet things To save my tolerance for you And your self obsessed syrup of supremacy A love letter in milk Raspberries Ice and sugar A sweetness unmatched A hint of narcissism In watching you try to taste the sweetness that you are An impossible possibility Oh holy matrimony A constant pursuit of Fool's Gold Day in and day out Textbook tenacity Personified But you drink, And drink, And drink Try, And try, And try With two milkshakes a day

0

Sep 8, 2024

Sep 8, 2024 at 4:42 PM UTC

Raspberry Milkshakes

I found that I dislike sweet things To save my tolerance for you And your self obsessed syrup of supremacy A love letter in milk Raspberries Ice and sugar A sweetness unmatched A hint of narcissism In watching you try to taste the sweetness that you are An impossible possibility Oh holy matrimony A constant pursuit of Fool's Gold Day in and day out Textbook tenacity Personified But you drink, And drink, And drink Try, And try, And try With two milkshakes a day

23

Heartbreak in many ways is a small death, all the same. A part of you dies when regret is born and you can never get it back while wondering what could have, would have or should have happened. When your food tastes horrible and the colour fades from the world around you and you are left with what only feels like a fever dream. A low budget version of reality and the writers are all on leave. Why does this happen? Even though we've seen this film before. Different actors on different days but we all imagine the same ending and we know that there is a plot twist at the end when things don't go the way we thought it would. The way we hoped it would. Is it perhaps that our hopes and dreams are the leading cause of death? Might we all stop romanticising the idea that our lives are one of the greatest films of all time? Oftentimes the greatest tragedy is not death but rather the fact that we choose to feel nothing at all. That somehow closing the tap is the answer. Turning off the TV so you don't have to see how it all ends. Unplug the cables. Throw away the disc. Supress the feeling of wanting more. Out of sight out of mind. But in order to die, one must live. And if the little death is inevitable, why not live like it isn't? What exactly do you have to lose that you haven't lost already?

0

Mar 15, 2023

Mar 15, 2023 at 8:25 AM UTC

The Little Death

Heartbreak in many ways is a small death, all the same. A part of you dies when regret is born and you can never get it back while wondering what could have, would have or should have happened. When your food tastes horrible and the colour fades from the world around you and you are left with what only feels like a fever dream. A low budget version of reality and the writers are all on leave. Why does this happen? Even though we've seen this film before. Different actors on different days but we all imagine the same ending and we know that there is a plot twist at the end when things don't go the way we thought it would. The way we hoped it would. Is it perhaps that our hopes and dreams are the leading cause of death? Might we all stop romanticising the idea that our lives are one of the greatest films of all time? Oftentimes the greatest tragedy is not death but rather the fact that we choose to feel nothing at all. That somehow closing the tap is the answer. Turning off the TV so you don't have to see how it all ends. Unplug the cables. Throw away the disc. Supress the feeling of wanting more. Out of sight out of mind. But in order to die, one must live. And if the little death is inevitable, why not live like it isn't? What exactly do you have to lose that you haven't lost already?

8