Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 31 Angharad
badwords
Stained are teeth, and fingers yellow,
Softly whispered lies we keep.
Smoke unfurls in breath so mellow,
Promising but sinking deep.

Coiling tendrils, soft and clever,
Lull the mind in fleeting grace.
Cinder ghosts that warm, yet sever,
Leave their embers on the face.

Every spark—a pledge unwinding,
Every drag—a weight we bear.
Sworn to comfort, yet confining,
Clinging to a thinning air.
Nicotine is a tightly structured, lyrical poem that explores the tension between fleeting comforts and the greater aspirations we often neglect. Using nicotine as both a literal and metaphorical device, the poem examines the small indulgences we cling to—despite knowing their cost—drawing a parallel to the broader human tendency to accept self-deception for the sake of temporary relief.

Through vivid imagery of smoke, stained fingers, and fading embers, the poem evokes a sense of quiet resignation, underscoring the slow erosion of will beneath a comforting but insidious habit. The rhythmic AB meter reinforces the hypnotic cycle of desire and consequence, mirroring the way these comforts lull us into complacency.

At its core, Nicotine is a confrontation—a mirror held up to our daily rationalizations, asking whether we truly seek change or merely the illusion of control. The introspective tone invites readers to reflect on their own vices, however small, and consider what they may be sacrificing in the name of fleeting ease.
Of all the people
That fate stole away
You're the one I'll
Miss the most...
I wish you have a beautiful life!
 Jan 30 Angharad
winter
i can smell the beginning of time
i feast on its flavor and in my belly
there's a suicidal undercurrent
this is love-hunger gnawing at a touch
at flickers of touch
i'm feeling my age
You know, sometimes
Silence can be a poem too
It allows for sincere connection
From the heart that you desire
To engage with it.
And if failed to do so
Shall bound them
To be free.
🦋🦋🦋
I tasted eternity in your kiss
And now,
I’m dying a slow death
in the embrace of curiosity.
And I thought,
I was immune.
I don't want to stay
On autopilot anymore
I wanna go home with a
Bouquet of wild flowers
Cook your favorite meal
And dance with you to
A Chet Baker song on
Our balcony by the
Light of the stars
I want to be here with my body and soul
Perhaps we weren't
Fated to much more
Than disaster
Anyway
Such a lovely trainwreck...
Next page