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 Feb 2019 Vic
Junior Semil
You toying with it(my heart)
like
A Happy Meal.
 Feb 2019 Vic
Yasin
Power Of Poetry
 Feb 2019 Vic
Yasin
Sometimes
poems
make
me
want
to
write
in
a
crowd
of
only
one
person.
 Feb 2019 Vic
jrae
Untitled
 Feb 2019 Vic
jrae
I am quiet, still
A body of water at rest
Waiting to be disturbed
 Feb 2019 Vic
Rupert Pip
ache
 Feb 2019 Vic
Rupert Pip
The world stopped spinning
when I saw your face.
I could taste the hurt you left on my lips
when you left your lips on his.
I could feel the wound split and tear
as if your knife’s still in.
I could sense the burn from within my heart
to ask a thousand questions.
But all I did was sit and stare
and hurt
and ache
and wonder.
trauma.
 Feb 2019 Vic
Dani Just Dani
I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.
 Feb 2019 Vic
Mystic Ink Plus
Her Spark
His Bliss
Her Smile
His Peace
Her Grace
His Muse
Her Vibes
His Spur
Her Future
His Dream

Her Goal
His Goal
And they call it eclipse
Genre: Romantic Observational
Theme: Less is more
Percocet
*******
Xanax
OxyNEO

And god knows what else.
You keep telling me “I’m not high I swear! I’m just tired”
But your lips are tinged blue, you have saliva in the creases of your mouth, your body is frail and sickly looking, your skin so white it’s almost transparent. Your eyes are swollen, glossy, and gaunt, your cheeks are sunken, your hair is tangled and unwashed.

“I’m not high I swear!”

But I don’t believe you. How many times have you said that to me only to confess later that you were, that you found a pill and didn’t have the self control not to take it.

“I’m not high I swear”

Yet you randomly smack your head, blurt out random words and nonsense, forget entire conversations, fall asleep mid sentence.

You said you were clean. But the very next day I get a call telling me that you’ve been arrested for a DUI, you had Xanax and Oxyneos in your toxicology report.

I’m afraid to answer my phone when it rings, I always fear it will be the call that tells me you’ve overdosed.

You said “I don’t need to go to rehab, I can quit myself”
But if that were true, you’d be clean by now. It’s been over a year since you told me you were addicted to pills.
At first it was just a perc or two, and now you are a full blown opioid abuser.

You’ve become the thing you hated most. An addict that can’t admit that they have a problem.

“Im not high I swear”

I can’t count how many times you’ve said that, how many times you lied to my face. So many times I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.
But I know I will, and I know I’ll go home and cry after and pray to god you wake up tomorrow.

I just want my best friend back, the kind and honest loving girl you use to be.
I’m tired of the you you’ve become.
The girl that lies, that steals, that is wasting away.

If only you never took that first pill.
Addiction steals everything.
 Feb 2019 Vic
joel jokonia
i                                       f i could
               shape poetry                  what shape
                     would                           purely be-
                         fit it                             and tell
                              my                     intentions
                              well                enou­gh
                                  shape      these
           ­                        like how i feel
                                                     i am in                               complete
                           i have a                            hole
somewhere                   in my soul  


my

                                     emo tions



a       r                    e

all                         O                     V
                                                         E                           R

how can i then shape poetry when i cant keep myself in shape
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