Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 2021 Nickolas J McKee
Eman
I hope you’re still feeling peaceful
Some place where you’re safe
Separation is an illusion
You remain forever
                     tangled                     
                      in                        
      my        
depths
A message to my inner child. Written (2016)
The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
 Feb 2021 Nickolas J McKee
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
"You signed up for this."
"You knew what you were getting into."
"You knew it was going to be hard.
So stop crying."

It is easier said than done.
When half my heart is gone.
 Jan 2021 Nickolas J McKee
Sydney
1 year and 9 months since we ended.
1 year and 2 months since I told you to stop calling.
9 months since I last scanned every parking lot for your car, hoping we weren't in the same place.
6 months since I was able to say your name and be okay.
4 months since I started doing things that we used to do together.
3 months since I finally started feeling like myself again.
1 month since I truly moved on.
1 hour since I ran into you in public with her, for the first time.
30 minutes since I realized that you were doing okay, but maybe I was not.
15 minutes since I felt regression.
5 minutes since I figured out how much time I felt was lost.
2 minutes since I've learned that everything is going to be okay.
1 minute since I've accepted that only time will tell.
The ice rattles in my glass as my
hands tremble needing another sip.
I'm calm and forget the terrible times.
We're all beat, spat upon, sentenced.
I drink too much of Christ's blood.
I'm fraught with devotion, nail myself
to your cross, losing my mind. I pray.
I don't think I can wait that long.
Though time has built
an
endless warp
of
suffering and pain
the
ancient dust of Africa
is
breaking down the chain
can you hear
the
winds of change
shifting
through the brain
the
ancient dust of Africa
makes
diamonds
in
the
falling
rain
a message of hope to all parents
Of
the
Third world child
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
 Jan 2021 Nickolas J McKee
ymmiJ
I dreamt
warmth enveloped
sweet scented
whispers
tears
are the ink
for the pen
a poet uses
to write
- L.M.
Next page