Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
So, you’re looking for a God.

Yes, that’s true.

May I know why?
To find the ultimate truth?

Yes, that’s right.

May I suggest one thing?

Yes, please.

Be human first, or else
You would end up picking up a devil.
𓆩♡𓆪

I love, you -
hate.
I break, you -
take.


I -


                               S                   a                   t                 r                                 
                                    h                  t                   e                                   


It doesn't matter
(I don't matter)


It was always -
your mistake.

(I am not a mistake)

𓆩♡𓆪
short,
never sweet.
-
(this looks better on pc)
The things you’ve said
The things that happened
Burned in my memories
I close my eyes
It all plays on repeat
Like a broken record
promised you a new love poem
every day till forever arrives,
for it will until then to
exhaust the crazy no limit ways to communicate
how my love for you consumes my
fragility, uncovering my core of strength,
that is never exposed, but for/to you,

but for/to you

my unidimensional surface
unpierced,
no one sees what you x-ray,
and I fess willingly, with ease of mind,
that my secrets are safe stored best within
the borderless country where our ven
diagrams of souls
intersect with iron & steel & titanium
ribboned lines of inviolate invisible
pure white


here I stop
lest I die of  bursting,
and yet I weep
for us,

for
you,


no longer
read my poetry
music
Train “Marry Me”
Chris Stapleton “Thinl I’m in Love wit You”
Sara Bareilles “Grsvity”
Though you are not a deity,
each step that you take here
becomes sacred to me.
Your path leaves trails of light
and my heart bows at your feet.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Innocence a foreigner
if beautiful or dark
No one who can lead the way
— has purity of heart

(Dreamsleep: November, 2024)
I'm afraid my words
Will forever rest on
This mediocrity pillow
And I shall never be
Worthy of the
Muse's kiss
A poem about writer's block is such a bad cliché... but my friend Mariya here at HP was just talking the other day about 'der Kuss der Muse', so I think it's appropriate to write about it.
This creek runs so deep,
my voice has no release,
Secret are my fingers,
typing up my poetry.
Next page