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 944° 
Raven Kuhn
For the first time,
I hold
and
I see you.
Originally a blackout poem.
 412° 
lizie
it’s selfish,
but i love
that every word i give you
turns into poetry.
 355° 
Cazzie
He reclines in his brittle chair carved from his own grief,
Not very regal, but heavily resigned to the aches.
The weight of silence cleanly cuts through the air.
His hands, now mapless, no longer seek.
Memories he left behind in clouds, were few and brief.

Books cradle their breath upon the shelf.
Never once a glance as he knows their unchanging tone.
The windows screech with tempered light
As regret drips down the pale pane of ivory bones.
His posture reflects the weight of years notched in his belt.
The leather groans, stretched too thin like his sense of self.

The hour never bows a whim to beg his name.
Dust circles, never sure as to where to fall.
His suit of choice is a reliquary of loss.
Each button, a distant memory hard pressed in shame.
The air is stained
The room too small.
A silent gasp
The last breath falls.
 253° 
A Vryghter
“I’m getting sick of it, Darling.
Poems meant for you, I mean.
I want to grow, yet my heart doesn’t.
And that’s your fault.

I want to write the forest dry,
but my head doesn’t wander.
I try to forget, will I regret it?
But the trees keep sprouting.

I’m feeling ill, my love.
‘Cause you forget my name.
I’m stuck, the trees closing me in.
I don’t have an axe. I stay.

I want to throw up words.
Get sick of paper in my mouth.
But my heart seems glued,
Repeating the same.”

A.V.
when you love someone who doesn’t love you.
TURN INTO ZOMBIES
WHILE OTHERS JUST
ROT IN THEIR GRAVES?

Zombies are just like you and me: they crave understanding and
physical displays of love. Many ex-lesbians report that their form-
er lovers often become "zombified" before jumping off the top of
the Washington Monument (obelisk). These jilted lovers are
like ice cream that doesn't get hard or Walmart cashiers
with large **** cysts that make squatting painful.
 186° 
Twisted Poet
I used to think blue eyes were pretty,
his were not.
his were not cornflower, sapphire, baby, indigo, azure,
or cloudy sky blue.
His were midnight where the light pollution from the city blocks the stars.
Iceberg, squall, hypothermia, eventual death
 176° 
Louis Aragon
Je tiens ce nuage or et mauve au bout d'un jonc
L'ombrelle ou l'oiselle ou la fleur
La chevelure
Descend des cendres du soleil se décolore
Entre mes doigts
Le jour est gorge-de-pigeon
Vite un miroir Participé-je à ce mirage
Si le parasol change en paradis le sol
Jouons
À l'ange
À la mésange
Au passereau
Mais elles qui vaincraient les grêles et l'orage
Mes ailes oublieront les bras et les travaux
Plus léger que l'argent de l'air où je me love
Je file au ras des rêts et m'évade du rêve

La Nature se plie et sait ce que je vaux.
Can you hear them?
They whisper,
you don’t deserve it, run, you’ll never deserve it

Or are they just in my head?
you’re going to f••• this up, run now, don’t let him catch you

You must hear them too.
Please.
Please tell me you hear them.
he only wants you because he doesn’t know you, run, before it’s too late

Or are they just in my head?
push him away, build the barricade, run, run faster than ever before, he doesn’t want you, he could never want you.
 167° 
Jimmy silker
It's that heavy happiness
When you're listening to Leonard
So simply expressed
Though you know he knows the big words
He'd rather talk to many
Than the cognoscenti
See there I just did it
Shame on me
Get salted through with Cohen
the beauty elementary.
 164° 
Rose
if roots can wait,
beneath the earth,
for a rain they cannot live without.

and if the stars wait,
lingering in dusk,
just to see the moon once more.

then i,
full of burning ache,
can wait too.

I will wait for you.
I'd wait for him in every lifetime
if you stop writing

about me , will i

disappear?

will we be so quiet

no one will notice us,

any more?

the bear considered, thought

it may be nice.
 157° 
CyberInk
Weariness infects my soul
Randomness deflects my struggle
Years of sacrifice and compromise
Yet met by a cosmic probability
Where time and place have the final say
Whereas I was yielding in the air
The train for the lucky has departed
 153° 
Poetato
Some parts of your journey
Are only temporary
And maybe, this is one of them.

It teaches you a lesson
About losing, accepting
And at last, letting go.

It might feel heavy and dark
Yet that's where the light begins to seep in,
Slowly bringing you back home
To yourself.
Well, such is life. Imperfect, yet ours.
 152° 
Soul-in-poetry
Flower petals fall
A sweet reminder of death
Of how a flower–
Is slowly rotting away,
The second it grows petals
 151° 
Velvet Dusk
I admired you
I always loved you
I was always grateful to you
I became your shadow
Everyone loves you
You love everyone
Except me
We share the same blood
Yet you see my like a project
Am i that unloveable
I want to be seen
To be loved
To be cared for
At least once
A shadow can feel too.Check up on your siblings never treat them like they are trash. A simple text from you can brighten up their day.
 150° 
Zahra Ali
Breath finds its
way to the ribs.
How do we draw
love near?
proximity ♡
 137° 
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                   “I am Going to Call for a Major Investigation…”

                             -Our Red Queen on Truth [sic] Social


In Wonderland a new oppressive conjuration -  
His name is Major Investigation
Sent at our screaming queen’s instigation
To drag us all down to her police station

Beginning with Kamala, Oprah, and Bono
For somewhat disapproving of him – oh, no!
The Major will punish their laissez-majesto -
In the name of freedom their heads must go!

(But of course the irony in all this biz
Is that their heads are even larger than his)
 135° 
Nak
First came the declaration
But we were too busy clapping
Second came the rules
But we were too busy living
Third came the action
But we were too busy fighting
Last came control
And we loved the chains
We loved the silence
Let freedom ring.
 129° 
Riri
Beneath the boughs where twilight spills its gold,
The whispering winds through blooming meadows glide.
A river sings where silent secrets fold,
And daisies nod with grace the hills can't hide.

The sky, a canvas brushed in fading flame,
Reflects in pools where dragonflies alight.
The lark ascends and calls the sun by name,
While shadows dance beneath the birch’s light.

In Nature’s hush, the soul is softly stirred—
A truth more pure than ever man has heard.
You lied with grace.
I bowed with love.

You took my fire,
left me ash.

I saw your face,
and lost my faith.

You left.
Still,
you called me
light.
 122° 
Carlo C Gomez
Affixed to the Lee–Enfield,
this blade, this trigger point,
stricken by ambush,
enters the melee
along the false edge,
cuts to the core,
like sympathizers of
William of Orange.

There are no daggers
apart from war,
just an ocean of
death and defeat,
its water,
its ever rising water,
swallows us whole.
 118° 
Nastia
A tiny beetle
Shimmering in the sun
All the colors of the rainbow.
Like benzine spilled in the rain.
 117° 
Santiago
para no estar solo un rato
vine a estar con un yo
débil y quebrado
que no sabe como moverse
ni como pararse
ni que decir
a veces me sorprende
pero casi siempre me hace sentir
ganas de decirle
todo lo que me dijeron a mi
y cuando vengo de estar solo
y vuelvo a estar solo
agradezco
que todo haya terminado,
que la niebla se haya disipado,
y mis oídos ya no estén tapados
ni mis brazos dormidos.
Mi espalda lentamente deja de doler
quizás en vez de acercarme
tenga que irme lejos
y nunca
volver
 113° 
Amisha priya
If you feel
Life is a rejection
Just thank god
You just
Escaped from
Life injection! ....
 109° 
Viktoriia
you know you're touch starved
when you start having dreams
of hugging someone
and of being hugged.

i have one at least once a week.
he didn’t simply hold my hand
instead he cradled it between
both of his as if I was made
to be handled with care.
I didn’t dare tell him
I’ve been broken
so many times
It’s too late
to be gentle
 90° 
Mia
Hold—then take,
a stove will broil,
begging for a break.

Mask—and fake,
a dime in a fountain—
more time for you to waste.

Gift—wrapped, taped,
presently presentable,
wrecked in wake.

Task—but pace.
Asking for a pardon:
isolate.

Disconnect—show face.

If bearing teeth feels instinctual,
wishing won’t help—
it’s still not safe.
I used to have time for it.
 87° 
hannah
if all the creatures in the world
blinked at once
would i still exist?
 83° 
CS Modei
A small piece of satin,
Held by single thread and pin.
To divest myself of it would be
To undo what has been.
Fun Fact!: This poem was originally stanza two of the poem "Sewn", but I felt that it held meaning beyond that of the original poem and was subsequently split. See the irony? Enjoy!
 81° 
Shahriar Hosen
Oh gentle breeze!
don't touch me, I'm cursed.
Oh gentle breeze—
I'm not sacred enough,
I'm guilty, I'm abandoned,
I'm like a pile of trash in the holy land!
Oh gentle breeze, never touch me.
I don't want to leave you tainted!
Oh gentle breeze,
sweet gentle breeze—
Don't touch me!
 81° 
M Ignacio
quantum entanglement
(has me) synching
into
silence
jump!
just tell me what i mean to you
 76° 
Kai
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
How about respect my boundaries
Respect your place
Mind your business
Stop cyber stalking me, Ryan
Before I figure out where you are and smack you in the face
NO???? IM NOT GOING TO RESPECT MY ELDERS IF THEY DONT RESPECT ME AND THATS FINAL.
 75° 
RMatheson
Over the ridges of kettle corn chips
as some sort of enduring
piece mail attempt at balance.

It's never possible.
You are unlovable.

And if fault may lay,
it lay in me.
When I die,
early of my years,
I've gladly gone,
and am listening to music
with Noni
and Tim.
 75° 
Kim Seul
.
I held the seashells,
sang the songs,
let the waves pull me in,
pretending I belonged.

But the tide went out,
and so did I,
footsteps fading,
hidden in the sand.
 72° 
morallygray
It's as simple
as splinters in a finger
or ripples in water
feeling her fingerprints
etching her
on the back of my eyelids
the suffering of millions
condensed in a compound word
goodbye
a tear escape as she walks away
and carries itself across every terrain
hoping she'll caress it with soft hands
simply following
 70° 
PhantomSavage
I
Dont
Understand
Life
I
Dont
Understand
Myself
I
Don't
Understand
Anything
I
Don'­t
Understand
Please
Help
Me
Understand
How
To
Survive
The
Calm
Af­ter
The
Storm
After
So
Long
Living
In
The
Hurricane
 64° 
bleedingink
What if,
one day,
you just can't
anymore.
 52° 
NostalgicFeeling
You said
"It's not you,
It's me"
Maybe it was true-
I haven't had a clue
That it was for the better,
Even though it felt like a fetter.

You lifted me up,
Called me pretty-
Was it just your pity?
Then you got bored;
I've felt so ignored.

I know I've always been pretty,
Sometimes I've been too gritty,
To the little old me,
Now I know there's no price on me,
No measure of my worth-
I deserve to walk on this Earth.
30/3/25
What do you think of the phrase "It's not you, it's me"?
If someone truly wanted to be with you, would they find a way? Let's talk about it!:)
What do *you* think?
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