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 May 2018 sar
mk
i am in a haze today. it is cloudy and beautiful outside. it is also pressing down on my chest and i struggle for air. i wore your shirt to bed last night and it helped steady my oxygen supply. i wish you were here to say my name and speak to me in my native tongue to remind who i am and where i've come from. i'm forgetting everything, slowly. recreating yourself is only good when you haven't done it five thousand times over. i just want to be me now. but how do i become me if there is no you? pick me up from the library and walk me to class. hold my hand and tell me that you will stay with me no matter how grey the sky is or how cold my fingers feel.
 May 2018 sar
Montana
Lips
 May 2018 sar
Montana
Your lips
Were the first thing I noticed
Gently parted
Breathing in and out

Oh to be your words
Conceived within your mind
Born upon your lips

Poetry.

Your lips are ******* poetry.
5/25/12
 Mar 2018 sar
skyler
new day new you
 Mar 2018 sar
skyler
people change everyday
so i vow to fall in love with you
every time the sun rises

s.s
 Mar 2018 sar
Kellin
Loving scared
 Mar 2018 sar
Kellin
I
wish
people
weren't
afraid
of
Love
 Mar 2018 sar
jlf
becoming god
 Mar 2018 sar
jlf
i dreamed about falling

off a chair in the church where

i heard you sing for

the first time and

it was the first time

i made you laugh

after a million years

i woke up

with a plum tree in my chest

with the touch of a finger you plucked a purple

planet off a branch

a world where we end up together

and bit out the part where we met

along with some other things

it hurt so much

i could have sworn

i heard you singing
i can't believe it's been 4 years since i last heard your voice
 Feb 2018 sar
phil roberts
As I lie here
With eyes closed softly
I think deeply of you
And I inhale stars
The scent of twinkling light
So fresh and alive
Sparkling gentle inside me
And I want to write this feeling
So tentatively
As it must be
Like writing words on bubbles
Delicate and precious
Begging them not to disappear
Like dreams in the morning

                                        By Phil Roberts
This may well be my last poem here.
 Feb 2018 sar
Simoné
Seven Years
 Feb 2018 sar
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
 Feb 2018 sar
Eric the Red
The truth about poets
Is
They’re not all alike
Some are derelicts
Scalawags
Lovers
Sisters
Some say they’re writers
Instead of Poet
For they know what that puts
Into the minds of others
Romantic
Lethargic
Gypsy
Some will never write novels
Poems are their Ulysses
Their ‘Love in the Time Of Cholera
Some are sad
Withdrawn
Choose to live there
While some poets
Use their words
To claw their way out
Some have fallen out of love
&
Want someone
ANYONE
to listen
While some have fallen in
the deepest ocean
&
Want to tell the world
What this man
This woman
Means to them

Most write their verses
Alone
Some at midnight
Some at sunrise
Some with coffee
Most with bottles

Most will never see the reaction
Of many
Will never hear
‘I like that...’

And most don’t want to be famous
Or sometimes heard
We
Just want to be
Ourselves
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