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poetrymylove
too empty to be of value, to full to throw away / // he/they 🏳️‍⚧️
fabric licks my flesh hugging me like a child to his mother stop touching my arms **** material
0
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 8:50 PM UTC
sensory
even the old men wail in Gaza, hunger cries to the onlookers
0
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 6:09 PM UTC
even the old men wail in Gaza
present me with a flower crown weaved with daisies and dandelions hold my hand and call me a monarch so i can call you mine infect me with your angelic laugh paint my face with your smile that glows brighter than the galaxy remind me what its like to feel the tendrils of love wrapped around me there were pores in my heart i craved for something to fill the wounds so i sat you down and asked you to be mine a girl who i can fall in love with who will hold me tight console me until the pit is filled and watery lakes have been cemented but i was too late, i suppose and again, i am alone
0
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 8:31 PM UTC
the girl i lost
will me not to see the sun a casket lying flat an a nun run a blade a grass across my wrist and mail a letter that tells to persist steal the flowers she gave to me leave the bloodied roses on your porch wilted withers that shatter shadows gold and silver mean nothing anymore bless me purple bruises that leave a landmine of tortured, aching skin run up my arms and up my neck like a mile i have to win prophesize that i am choked out by greedy grieving ghosts who want my soul to sell to hosts that **** from it my lively hopes and leave me to rot and killed by smoke soulless seas of screaming eyes lifeless wings of butterflies i cannot be saved now i cannot be saved now
0
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 8:26 PM UTC
save me
the puppeteer will push and pull at the stolen strings welded to my limbs one up, one down, spin round then round your staggered motions dizzies me the puppet boy will dance and sing with a voice-box that does not belong to him pitch high, pitch low, seasick vibrado your wavering wails strain me the audience will cheer and shout in the sea of spectators they swim in screams loud, screams soft, reverse from the top your oppressive noise blinds me i am the puppeted boy who’s driven by everyone but me for when i cannot sustain my own limbs other people decide my fate for me
0
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 3:39 PM UTC
puppeted
damaged is the deed that is done with a dagger who points to the sun all your damage has been undone with a pill bottle and a sink and a throat filled with guns damaging the deserted is never fun but its not good enough to be seen as one when damaged tells damage about the sun one damaged says no damage has been done
0
May 23, 2025
May 23, 2025 at 8:50 PM UTC
damaged
no matter how many              hours i built up my                                     script for the                                          assignment i had to                                                do well on the blood                                                                 curdling                                                           anxiety                                  couldnt help but to sweep                                                 it away                                    out my heavy, saturated mind and then its gone “among the ancient ruins         of…” i pause i knew                                         this like the back of                                     my hand why could                                                i not recite                                                  it? the long long                                  speech i spent                           4 hours memorizing gone with a gust of wind      would                                                 one not     remember                                           a river         that they have                              swallowed        whole? is it strange                     that it has         simply evaporated in the             blink of an         eye, freshwater       stains on the     walls of a         cup made                      to quench    my long             lived thirst. i                   am left dry and lonely,            laying in                              a desert drier than                               my empty,                            wordless mouth.                                               there is simply nothing left to do but stand         on a stage and stutter, the tantalizing irises of those                                                     surrounding                                             threatening                                                                      to swallow me like black holes. a                                                            familiar buzzing ignites in my                                               blood. anxiety                                         squeezes my lungs.                                 the sky above me                                              opens up and my invisible words dance in                       the wind, wishing me luck, and then they’re gone
0
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025 at 7:51 PM UTC
GONE
no matter how many              hours i built up my                                     script for the                                          assignment i had to                                                do well on the blood                                                                 curdling                                                           anxiety                                  couldnt help but to sweep                                                 it away                                    out my heavy, saturated mind and then its gone “among the ancient ruins         of…” i pause i knew                                         this like the back of                                     my hand why could                                                i not recite                                                  it? the long long                                  speech i spent                           4 hours memorizing gone with a gust of wind      would                                                 one not     remember                                           a river         that they have                              swallowed        whole? is it strange                     that it has         simply evaporated in the             blink of an         eye, freshwater       stains on the     walls of a         cup made                      to quench    my long             lived thirst. i                   am left dry and lonely,            laying in                              a desert drier than                               my empty,                            wordless mouth.                                               there is simply nothing left to do but stand         on a stage and stutter, the tantalizing irises of those                                                     surrounding                                             threatening                                                                      to swallow me like black holes. a                                                            familiar buzzing ignites in my                                               blood. anxiety                                         squeezes my lungs.                                 the sky above me                                              opens up and my invisible words dance in                       the wind, wishing me luck, and then they’re gone
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44
i sit in the same place as i did last year desk worn smooth beneath my hand the sunlight spills through the glass window just like it always has here i listen to a new voice speak a different cadence and a different tone but i am not listening to the lecture of the teacher in this place i feel all alone i look up from my bleeding cuticles mind refocusing on the words and for a single aching second i see it, there you are your dark red hair catches in the light the way it always has when you turn to write laughter just behind your lips diamond iris sparking like struck flint standing in front of the board, it is you— until it isn’t faster than it came, the illusion shatters pain sharp as chalk dust in my throat my heart stumbles like it forgot how to move forward without you leading it homeward i miss you more than words can hold more than ink can write more than silence can carry and yet i sit in this room with this new voice her new name pretending not to see your ghost in every empty space
0
Mar 20, 2025
Mar 20, 2025 at 7:55 PM UTC
new story, old ghost
one of two me and you we can swim in the dark and ill still recognize your face your smile your heart warmer than stars which light the universe and sets me free you were hand crafted by all who came before built cell by cell in the womb of the sun so your brightness reflects on my face made just for me, *****
0
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 6:15 PM UTC
*****
first there were no words to speak a romanticized tranquility that took the form of a smile but there is no happiness in numbness only empty space then came the rivers of screams from the red blood cells that are free to retire from carrying a life on their back color a painting on a canvas that never agreed and at last it was silence once again this time not from lack of words but from the ability to pretend that your bones are not to break from griefs descend why not be a silent singer if no one will listen when you strain your pleads past their god-given limit and i testify against these tired, painful vows until they lose every ounce of oxygen and finally fizzle out
0
Feb 26, 2025
Feb 26, 2025 at 6:03 PM UTC
silent singer