Meg4n - Hello Poetry

Rest seemed better than the exhaustion of an organic pacing bones in protest wincing at their own sound alive, only because you are you remember you're alive because they are tomorrow waits in the marrow remembering the grinding of aimless walks

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May 24

May 24, 2026 at 5:48 AM UTC

Marrow

Rest seemed better than the exhaustion of an organic pacing bones in protest wincing at their own sound alive, only because you are you remember you're alive because they are tomorrow waits in the marrow remembering the grinding of aimless walks

12

Fear whips her throat in silent screams

0

May 7

May 7, 2026 at 3:45 PM UTC

Whips

Fear whips her throat in silent screams

1

You were the light when i dimmed

0

May 7

May 7, 2026 at 3:44 PM UTC

Light

You were the light when i dimmed

1

A love loud enough to raise the dead centuries-long slumber awake only to die again hollowed bones trace my veins like a map leading to you uncharted throbs phantom flames pulsing through the waters that killed me the only place I could learn to breathe lungs shaped around you perhaps I drowned too soon sinking into your cobalt pools

0

May 7

May 7, 2026 at 12:19 PM UTC

Cobalt Pools

A love loud enough to raise the dead centuries-long slumber awake only to die again hollowed bones trace my veins like a map leading to you uncharted throbs phantom flames pulsing through the waters that killed me the only place I could learn to breathe lungs shaped around you perhaps I drowned too soon sinking into your cobalt pools

16

roll of the dirt, click of the tongue— metal clanks at the roots. digging is done; fatigue caked to boots. scent of rest lingers down in the hollow, splinters in fingers. lay frozen under sky; night clouds open their wounds, bleeding on the dry that vanished too soon. without a casket in a flood, unmoving in treacle mud.

0

Dec 3, 2025

Dec 3, 2025 at 8:46 AM UTC

Treacle Mud

roll of the dirt, click of the tongue— metal clanks at the roots. digging is done; fatigue caked to boots. scent of rest lingers down in the hollow, splinters in fingers. lay frozen under sky; night clouds open their wounds, bleeding on the dry that vanished too soon. without a casket in a flood, unmoving in treacle mud.

14

I’m tired, but sleep isn’t rest— it’s deceit in a slumber where starlight dusts my eyes and moonlight tangles in sheets, my hair fanned out like wings of moonbeams. I stare straight up at a ceiling made of maps, places I’ll never be. I walk there in my dreams— the ones I only have awake. I think about how thunder only yells after lightning strikes, how rain hits the ground, making waves like tiny oceans. this storm is what tires me, and sleep is never rest.

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Nov 23, 2025

Nov 23, 2025 at 11:36 PM UTC

Moonbeams

I’m tired, but sleep isn’t rest— it’s deceit in a slumber where starlight dusts my eyes and moonlight tangles in sheets, my hair fanned out like wings of moonbeams. I stare straight up at a ceiling made of maps, places I’ll never be. I walk there in my dreams— the ones I only have awake. I think about how thunder only yells after lightning strikes, how rain hits the ground, making waves like tiny oceans. this storm is what tires me, and sleep is never rest.

19

red in blue-lit eyes, mirrored by the tide, caught beneath wounded skies— a place where love can't hide.

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Nov 2, 2025

Nov 2, 2025 at 4:14 PM UTC

love can't hide

red in blue-lit eyes, mirrored by the tide, caught beneath wounded skies— a place where love can't hide.

4

grayscale thoughts wander around a mind of an opaque town yet colored when viewed through the window of you refracting solstice off the shadows of solace, a dim world split in two— half mine, half you.

0

Oct 17, 2025

Oct 17, 2025 at 10:23 AM UTC

Opaque

grayscale thoughts wander around a mind of an opaque town yet colored when viewed through the window of you refracting solstice off the shadows of solace, a dim world split in two— half mine, half you.

8

Quiet hum in a dark space, where thoughts sway as shadowed dancers, tracing shapes from light cried in lumen tears.

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Oct 16, 2025

Oct 16, 2025 at 3:25 AM UTC

Lumen Tears

Quiet hum in a dark space, where thoughts sway as shadowed dancers, tracing shapes from light cried in lumen tears.

6

danse macabre a silent dead my wistful words twirling on a thread morbid bows aching dips a pang of music from my own lips pirouettes, no claps stiffened formation a stage near collapse then—only silence all from this cage a sleeping ode to my dying age

0

Jun 22, 2025

Jun 22, 2025 at 1:11 AM UTC

A Sleeping Ode

danse macabre a silent dead my wistful words twirling on a thread morbid bows aching dips a pang of music from my own lips pirouettes, no claps stiffened formation a stage near collapse then—only silence all from this cage a sleeping ode to my dying age

15