Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Anonymous Sep 2018
A poet sitting in front of their desk. A pen in their hand, a paper in front of them.
They stare thoughtful into space, creating the perfect piece of art.
Their mind rushes and filters the inspirational flow, picks put the best parts.
A sentence built in their minds, followed by a machinelike action;
The pen rushes to the paper, the hand moves fast across the white surface,
Smudged blue words cover the once empty piece, and a beautiful story is fashioned.

Yet there is a danger in the art provided, a risk that is taken by poets all around.
The danger of bringing your thoughts on paper, letting your inner self flow into the poem,
Your work, completely exposing you to thirds and spilling all your secrets.
The revealed truth about a poet, lies in their poems and even though they pick their words,
A good listener can still find their original meanings and constructions.

Poets can spill entire secrets in just a single verse and
paraphrase the smell of a flower in a poem over twenty pages,
yet the poet remains the same. Exposed, figured out and still
completely alone with their thoughts, until they find another piece of paper, resting their pen in their hand.
Anonymous May 2018
The sky cried again today, it was sad and angry.
I wonder, if it was supposed to flood the earth and **** all living.
I wonder, if the raindrops are really tears of those, who cried today.
I wonder, how many must have cried today, to make the grass smell like it showered.
I wonder, if lightning is a photoshoot of the world, before it’s drowning.
I wonder, who is going to look at the pictures taken today.
I wonder, if thunder is the drumroll before the surprise.
I wonder, if everyone feels the beat in their veins.
I wonder, if the raindrops are afraid of landing on the leaves of the high trees.
I wonder, if the trees ever look down at us and think of all the better ways they could rule this world.
I wonder, if they ever scream at us, to stop ruining their earth.
I wonder, why we take this world for granted and call it ours.
I wonder, if we took this world from a better cause, to make the sky cry.
I wonder if I am the only one to see this broken world in the rain and,
I wonder, if I am the only one to hear the endless screams of pain, to see the tears of so many, covered up by an act of nature.
I wonder, if humanity has survived longer than it should have.
I wonder…
Anonymous May 2018
The way the light fell over your shoulder and highlighted the features and structure of your face perfectly.
The way the world stopped spinning for a while, just so I could admire your shining eyes and the happiness they shared.
The way every noise became silent and I could have chosen any romantic love song from my playlist, it would have fitted like two puzzle pieces.
The way your teeth presented themselves for the world, to become the most important thing for people to see.
The way I made up a person in my mind that is you and I don't have a name, but I have a smile. That **** smile.
Anonymous Feb 2018
When I was a little girl, and I would fall, my mother would pick me up, clean up my wounds, cover them with a bandage, after kissing them softly. She would wipe away my tears, hug me tightly and tell me: “Hey, it’s all going to be okay.”
When I was a little girl, I had a lot of headaches, and I would cry and scream in pain. My mother would carry my burning body, tuck me into bed, ****** my forehead, sing quietly in my ear and tell me in whisper: “Hey, it’s all going to be okay.”
When I was a little girl, and I’d lose another friend, I would question my worthiness in tears. My mother would hold me close to her heart, so I could hear the beating of her love. She would leave a precious kiss on my salty cheek and tell me: “Hey, it’s all going to be okay.”

What did I do to lose her love?  Was it when I started hating everything about me, sniffing loudly in my room over the way I hated my body and the pain the world brings to everyone who isn’t strong enough to not bruise by falling?
What did I do to lose her love?  Was I annoying her with my endless screams over the pain I felt piercing in my forehead, leaving her to carry my heavy body to bed and sing quietly in my ear as I fell asleep in her weakening arms, forcing her to whisper?
What did I do to lose her love?  Was she realising she should leave me too, after the 7th best friend left in the end of middle school, as I questioned my worthiness in tears, forcing her arms to hold me close to her heart, so I could hear the fading beating of her love?

Sometimes I miss her love. When she finds me in my room crying over the way I hate my body, telling her; ‘I just watched a sad movie’. She closes the door leaving me, wishing for somebody to hug me tightly and tell me: “Hey, it’s all going to be okay.”
Sometimes I miss her love. When I have a headache and she tells me to sleep it away. I tuck myself into bed, wetting my pillow in salty water from my eyes, singing to myself, wishing for somebody to tell me in whisper: “Hey, it’s all going to be okay.”
Sometimes I miss her love. When I stumble into the living room, questioning my worthiness in tears, after losing another friend, holding a hand close to my heart, wishing for somebody to leave a precious kiss on my cheek and tell me: “Hey, it’s all going to be okay.”
Anonymous Feb 2018
Woke up early last night,
Dreamed of you, holding me tight.
The cold made me shiver,
You were not there.
I was all alone, just the way you left me.

I thought I saw you in my room,
Thought you made the flower bloom.
As I blinked it all turned dark,
You were gone, just like that.
I was disappointed, just the way you left me.

I heard your voice telling me,
With me you’d love to be.
I asked, you’re sure?
You told me no, laughed and went to go.
I was hurt, just the way you left me.
Anonymous Feb 2018
There’s a girl in your picture frame
Smiling through the clear glass
Her green eyes filled with happiness
Her rose lips reveal her white teeth
It’s like I can read her mind,
But not truly because I can’t find a reason
For you to let her go.
Her thoughts scream for you to come back
To continue loving her, not me.

I know the way you look at her,
When I’m not around.
The love you need to give to her,
But it’s not your fault.
She left and now I’m here,
I might not be her but maybe
I can be enough, just for now.
Maybe I can give you a little bit of rest,
Some peace so you can move on.

I know that someday, you’ll not need me,
Someday you’ll stop loving me.
But that’s okay. Because you only love me,
So I can fix you. And someday I’ll be done
Someday I’ll have fixed you.
It may not be tomorrow or the day after,
But it’ll happen.
And when you tell me to leave,
I will.
Anonymous Feb 2018
A teardrop falls closer to the light,
Feeling like it might just be enough.
The salt burns the tear out of her eye.
Now it’s falling to the water beneath,
The ocean beneath the bridge.
Longing for the touch of cold and warm.
Looking up to its cause, she cries her pain away.
Suddenly surrounded by freezing pain,
Drowning in molecules like its own.
Burning in cold screaming
then complete silence.
It is no more.
Next page