Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2019 Gemma
Heather
Full to capacity
With feelings for you
Love and anger and desire
Spilling over into every poem
Every conversation

He’s not as good,
No one is as good as you

But even if they were
I’m already over capacity.
 May 2019 Gemma
Raziel
Habits
 May 2019 Gemma
Raziel
They’ll check your wrists,
But not your thighs,
They’ll check your smile,
But not your eyes
They’ll avoid the truth,
Believe the lies,
Nothing to sooth,
No reason to cry,
Our smiles are bright,
Eyes are a bit dull,
Wrists are clean despite,
The blade with an emotional pull,
And we’re emotionally unstable,
But they say that’s okay,
We are all a bit of a riddle,
But that’s the only thing we can convey,
And the world will open to swallow us up,
But that’s okay, at least our habits remain,
And when their arms finally open up,
We will show them the reflection they taught us to shame,
So we paint a smile with the color of red,
From the thighs they didn’t check,
And from our eyes we bled.
And they'll only understand,
When the noose hold us by our necks,
And if they had thought twice,

Maybe our eyes they would have checked.
How often we feel ashamed
When our skin could glow,
With all the ruin
We have survived
And turned into poetry,
All the defeat we withstand
And walk away from,
Leaving yesterday
And braving tomorrow
 Apr 2019 Gemma
EmperorOfMine
People.
They're like the weather.
Not all sunny days are warm.
Not all rainy days are relaxing.
Not all stormy days are intimidating.
Not all warm days are enjoyable.
Not all foggy days are thick.
Not all snowy days are ugly.

People...
They can be extremely predictable or not predictable at all.
 Apr 2019 Gemma
Oliver O'Connor
You always ask:
"If your friends wanted to jump off a bridge, would you?"
and I say no, of course...

But
secretly
I hope I'm asked to go first

and you do, too
 Apr 2019 Gemma
Zelda Mik
Unsteady
 Apr 2019 Gemma
Zelda Mik
You are my keel, my even heal
steadying me as I go.
Afloat and wandering without you
tipping and splashing in all directions.
Drinking the water in its sweet, savory confection
poisoned by its taste, not wanting more.
Adrift are the days where I could dance atop the surface
not ever worrying I might fall.
You are my keel, my even heal
don’t ever let me go.
 Apr 2019 Gemma
chitragupta
Every night
I wait till 4 AM
when the moon comes
to my part of the sky
and illuminates my windowsill
with her silver light

Lunar radiance
lulls me slowly
I listen to the soft song
with closed eyes
sung by the southern breeze
like gentle wind chimes

The dead letters of Sleep
finally arrive at my postbox desolate
but not long before the neon dial starts screaming,
"IT'S TOO LATE! IT'S TOO LATE!"

It's too late..
On team insomnia we don't believe in sleep.
Next page