Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2023 Abeer
August
He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.
we are fine
you are the only one
losing her mind.
How?
Please tell me how to be okay?
It’s been months and I still don’t know
how to feel okay today.
My body aches
I hurt as much on the outside as within
Blood pours from my throat
And drips down my legs.
The fire has extinguished from within
And my lighter hasn’t been
Able to burn itself in.
I haven’t been okay.
I don’t know how.
 Sep 2023 Abeer
William J Donovan
Katie has become estranged.
Old ghosts quiet rearranged
simmering in hidden anger.
Her grandson is a stranger.
Infidelity licks vows away
lust plays music's easy lay.
 Sep 2023 Abeer
William J Donovan
I have scars of life
mostly self inflicted
bad judgement of youth
just accidental addicted
to a crack ******* pipe
and Satan's debauchery
Eden's fruit now ripe
Eve gives me her cherry.
I take it as a treasure
covet as I do her heart
the fiercest pleasure
will tear us both apart.
extraordinary things fake hi lagti hai.

                                           -KK
 Sep 2023 Abeer
Donall Dempsey
TRYING TO EXPLAIN HUMAN
LONELINESS TO INANIMATE THINGS

stares at the wall &
cries & cries & cries:
the wall doesn't understand

lonely  basement flat
the 5 o'clock train rattles
the broken teacup

apple on table
your smile bitten into it
you...no longer...there
 Sep 2023 Abeer
DElizabeth
question
 Sep 2023 Abeer
DElizabeth
\ \ \
i can't wait to see you

do you feel the same way?

i wish i could ask you

if that's okay & if i may?

/ / /
 Sep 2023 Abeer
ryn
Intermission
 Sep 2023 Abeer
ryn
As if world-gazing through filters,
we’d be enamoured by the beguiling nature
of its ways and the silent poetry it recites.

We’d be captivated by the subtle touches
of scentful breezes.

We’d zealously claim the emotions evoked;
and all its nuances, as our own refined beings.

We’d then forget…
For a fleeting moment -
the scars that mark our hearts…
and the tumour that eats at us.
Next page