Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 May 2021 Grey
Delyla Nunez
Take me to a place far away from the evil in our world.
Put my mind at ease
For there is a storm coming and the winds blow mighty.
 Apr 2021 Grey
 Apr 2021 Grey
Your absence fills my heart

like an unclaimed piece of art,

you already knew

that I lacked hues










but you made me realize

how dull are my eyes

how muffled are my cries

how lame is my existence

how pointless is my persistence,

how far you are

when you still hold me close,

how easy I am

waiting to be the one you chose,

I know

in this world of "Hello"

all I'll ever be is "Crucio"




-a pretty little thing that'll

always remain haunted.
P.S. Neither have I watched nor read the Harry Potter Series.....

P.P.S. I really liked having you around. I'm sorry you will never be able to say the same about me. I really am a curse, a liability, a messed up personality.

the prettiest faces do hide the ugliest traces
 Feb 2019 Grey
 Feb 2019 Grey
"You look at her the way I look at you
And it kills me, a little
 Jan 2019 Grey
Artists are often
broken people
using the fragments of themselves
to create something new
and although
being healed
feels so complete
sometimes i want to be broken again
sometimes i want open wounds
so i can use the blood
to paint sunsets
so i can use the torn off pieces of skin as a canvas
so i can carve
masterpieces with the jagged bones left behind
but I can't bring myself to break my own heart in the name of Art
 Jan 2019 Grey
 Jan 2019 Grey
I woke to the sound of your velvety voice
and your soothing lavender scent
Though I woke alone,
your presence: no longer.

Something short I wrote two years back.
 Jan 2019 Grey
 Jan 2019 Grey
I'll give you everything,
because I'm selfish.
I'll steal from you
every smile I can.
 Sep 2018 Grey
Ambika Jois
Every poet has a truth.
The truth is, poets can lie.
Poets can lie and hide the truth.
Poets can also disguise a beautiful truth as a sinful lie.

We poets don't back down easily.
We poets want to win every conversation.
We very much prefer to raise our pens
To record our artful manipulation.

We write about our sorrows
Our nearest and dearest know nothing of.
We write about our joys
Our greatest challengers want to dispose of.

Do we know someone who knows us better?
Do we know someone who knows who we are?
Do we know if we are anything else but poets?

We are all the same.
You are human, as am I.
You see it straight, I see it in rhymes.
You like it easy, I like it fly.
You hear it quick, I take my time.
Do you know why?

'Coz every poet has suffered a lie.
A lie that ignites a fire for truth.
Poets can write the truth whilst hiding the lies.
How can we not, when -
We poets can disguise a painful lie as a beautiful truth?
Next page