trauma is not
a beautiful thing
i'm not a bird
with broken wings
not a sick puppy
for you to save
not a white daisy
growing over a grave
i'm rotten inside
down to my core
grabbing handfuls
of guts and gore
pushing it back
under my skin
so you will not see
the condition i'm in

I spend more time biting my lips more than
I talk about my feelings.

More than anything,
I choose to bite my lips.

Still blossoms for its purpose not looking around for admirer, stay true to your purpose, admirers will find their way to you...!

You want it
but I don’t
you don’t get it
Because I said so
so go be independent
quit depending on me
I don’t rely on you
so quit believing in ME

Heartbreak is unisex and one size fits all. I’m ready for a new wardrobe!

Boy,I am not
afraid of my age,
But, worried about,
anger,rage/

I have let these things go
You for example
The center
Gone awry

And all
the carefully orbited
mirrors
reflecting you

their lines of sight
edges of something
we made solid
now bursting

glittering away
bright flashing bits
there gone there gone
gone effortlessly

these questions
we ask ourselves
about why oh why

As I lie here
With eyes closed softly
I think deeply of you
And I inhale stars
The scent of twinkling light
So fresh and alive
Sparkling gentle inside me
And I want to write this feeling
So tentatively
As it must be
Like writing words on bubbles
Delicate and precious
Begging them not to disappear
Like dreams in the morning

                                        By Phil Roberts

Isn’t it funny
How poets dramatise everything
“An ocean of depression”
“A death grip of love”
We just can’t help ourselves
It’s who we are
It’s part of being a poet
Over analysing life
Deeply contemplating death
“What is the meaning of life?”
Everything is philosophical
There’s always a lesson to learn
An issue to address
A heartache to confess