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neither
neither
25/F/India
You stare blankly at the ceiling Unwilling to rise Everyone has abandoned you No respite from the silence Your heart in shards Like the vase you dropped Last autumn —some things shatter— A buzz emits from beside you Messages of a different variety You have been abandoned by all, but one Hello, you have not forsaken me The shards of heart, mend Form a kintsugi heart Love flowers in the cracks —some things bloom— @toopragmaticbookworm
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Jan 1, 2022
Jan 1, 2022 at 12:58 PM UTC
some things shatter, some things bloom
Baby I don't love you, I don't miss you, I just want you to go to hell. You know all the lies I tell under the moon, To save my heart from breaking, And save me from this doom.
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Sep 2, 2021
Sep 2, 2021 at 7:04 AM UTC
I don't...
The night people seep away Like water into soil Neither noticed or followed by anyone Road sweepers remove the night's detritus Ready for the city's full awakening When the rushing crowds shall emerge Surging tides of humanity Never speaking to each other With heads down and hidden eyes On their way to another day Worker bees in skyscraper hives Growing old and growing ulcers Amidst the canyons Between these buildings Leaning into the buffeting wind Two young lovers are seen Little more than children Carrying their innocence between them Hurrying away from here This harsh and angry place Believing only in each other and love Leaving the metropolis behind Their names are Hope and Joy And this is no place for them By Phil Roberts
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Sep 2, 2021
Sep 2, 2021 at 7:01 AM UTC
THE DAWNING
we kissed for the first time behind a coffee shop. in the haze of morning her hand found mine warm morning air settled on our skin i kissed her at a stop sign in the dark. foot on the brake, heartbeats whispering between breaths, “green light green light green light” her face shrouded in warm candle light. her hand in the water of the bath i lay in ”don’t get your sleeve wet” ”i don’t mind”
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Sep 2, 2021
Sep 2, 2021 at 6:54 AM UTC
our august
A dull, cream hued bedroom with stacks of books everywhere; Arranged in bookshelves, piled on table, tucked into bed & laid on floor. The dampness of the nearby marsh, rides on the wind; And through the open barred window, flows in; The subtle smell of the sun dried clothes which was still lingering; Was disturbed by the wind, that uninvited came in. The room never had the sun pay a visit to her; The only forms of sun she ever receives are sun dried objects & sun kissed lovers. Lovers who lie bare on their undone bed; And saturate the room with abstractions spilling out of their heads. Pure souls, imperfect bodies with minds, oh so sultry; They make love with words, ****** with rhyme & conceive poetry. The walls blush a little when the young man kisses his young woman everywhere but her lips; Gliding his lips all over her skin, kissing every freckle & slowing down on nips. For exquisite utterances dripped from her universe & down her lips they trickle; Getting absorbed into her boundless skin, creating another constellation of freckles. An occasional wind peeps in, while her lover's tongue & lips get painted with her essence; She notices this intruder & breathes it all in, while stopping abruptly mid-sentence. He begins savoring her lips & devouring the words she haven't spoken yet; They gulp down each other as into each other they melt. The words which missed to escape, wait patiently for the arrival of the coming night; But soon they get frantic, alter & behave differently in the daylight. The room wakes from her slumber; With the aroma of tea & scent of wilted flowers. Everything returns to being dispassionate as the lovers part during the day; But as the night befalls, they return to make love & fill the void in many a sensuous way.
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Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 12:02 PM UTC
Sun dried clothes & Sun kissed lovers
A dull, cream hued bedroom with stacks of books everywhere; Arranged in bookshelves, piled on table, tucked into bed & laid on floor. The dampness of the nearby marsh, rides on the wind; And through the open barred window, flows in; The subtle smell of the sun dried clothes which was still lingering; Was disturbed by the wind, that uninvited came in. The room never had the sun pay a visit to her; The only forms of sun she ever receives are sun dried objects & sun kissed lovers. Lovers who lie bare on their undone bed; And saturate the room with abstractions spilling out of their heads. Pure souls, imperfect bodies with minds, oh so sultry; They make love with words, ****** with rhyme & conceive poetry. The walls blush a little when the young man kisses his young woman everywhere but her lips; Gliding his lips all over her skin, kissing every freckle & slowing down on nips. For exquisite utterances dripped from her universe & down her lips they trickle; Getting absorbed into her boundless skin, creating another constellation of freckles. An occasional wind peeps in, while her lover's tongue & lips get painted with her essence; She notices this intruder & breathes it all in, while stopping abruptly mid-sentence. He begins savoring her lips & devouring the words she haven't spoken yet; They gulp down each other as into each other they melt. The words which missed to escape, wait patiently for the arrival of the coming night; But soon they get frantic, alter & behave differently in the daylight. The room wakes from her slumber; With the aroma of tea & scent of wilted flowers. Everything returns to being dispassionate as the lovers part during the day; But as the night befalls, they return to make love & fill the void in many a sensuous way.
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26
When people annoy me with their constant complaining or their non stop arguing, or even worse, their illogical demands: "For the last time, you can't buy ***** with food stamps."  Or, "There is no way a crow took the rent money out of your hands and flew off with it." What I do is close my eyes and pretend they're squirrels chattering in squirrel language.   Then they don't bother me so much. I just want to reach out and pet them, or give them a handful of nuts. It's not hard; half of them look like squirrels anyway.
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Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 11:22 AM UTC
People
Heaven rained on me, I breathed in the petrichor, Bathed in the downpour.
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Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 4:13 AM UTC
Submission
Wake up, hide the tears, put on the smile, ignore the weight of depression, cheer others up, act silly, come home, cry, repeat.
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Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
Fake it
they won’t miss me she whispers as she pours another pill in her hand they won’t miss me he mutters as he ties the knot of the rope that will be his end they won’t miss me she laughs ironically as she loads the gun they won’t miss me he sighs as he picks up the knife i wish it didn’t have to be like this they all cry but now it’s too late the pills gone the rope knotted the gun loaded and the knife stained.
0
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 2:50 AM UTC
too late
I wish to love myself like those love poems; Intense yet mellow, with a bittersweet tone. Write numerous love letters to myself; On days when I feel so dull & clueless. On days, oh so bright; I wish to be peaceful, and free from all sorrows & fright. Who'd save me if not myself; Who'd love me if not myself.
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Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC
If not myself