the inspiration
and the motivation
to write is gone
goodbye

So uh yeah,
Idk what to post.
Have a great day/night/whatever
Love you

I'm supposed to be healthy.

I work out daily,
My eating habits are normal,
I'm physically healthy,
My grades can be fixed,
My mental health is becomming better,
I'm in a loving, non-toxic relationship,
The connection to my family is alright,
I'm close with my friends.
I have a lot of hobby's and interests
I don't feel empty most of the time.

Why, Why, Do I Not Feel Okay?

The past month,
I noticed something.
Everything makes me so tired.
I don't post poems anymore,
I don't write anymore.
Can't think of new stories to write,
All the colour is gone.
Things are made up at the spot,
Too worthless to deny.
I'm trying to control it.
The world is silently passing by.

Mind is full of words
Nothing fits
When I write
The're gone
How can you do this to me
It's magical

Does always exist?
Or do we mean
As long as I love you?

I have lost my ability to write.
And with that, I lost a part of myself

"He's either a madman or a poet."

"Can't I be both?"

"You already are."

I sent you a letter,
To explain the way I feel, and the rest.
And I don't exactly remember what I wrote,
But that's probably for the best.

Woosh woosh
The floor is gone
I love remodeling

"Write one about our French teacher"

Oui oui bonjour
Like I care about your class
I'm really not interested in French
Oh, this period is finished, alas!

I'd light the world on fire to be with you
Which is slightly problematic
Because then we'd have nowhere to stay
Unless you'll take me to the moon someday

To all the kids from 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and all the others who were told they're to young to be a poet.

To all the theatre kids who can't sing but do it anyway

To all the people who post vines, memes and jokes on here.

To all the people who post poems while they're in class, or in the middle of the night.

To all the people who are open and proud about their sexuality and gender.

To all the closeted people who still post poetry about it.

To all the people who quote songs, movies and musicals.

To all the people who post the conversations they have with their friends.

To all the people who were told they're bad at writing, bur do it anyway because they like to.

To all the people who are unsure about their writing.

To all the people who support all these kind strangers online.

To all the people who support all poetry, no matter what gender/age/sexuality the person has that wrote it.

To all the artists that wanted to try something new.

To all the people who have known this site for years.

To all the people who are new here.

To every poet I haven't called out,

You make this community even better. I love you.

To be the one to speak her name as mine.
The ghost of her past.
Glistering water.
Ocean eyes.
Soft satin lips.
Dead roses.
Crumbled in the dust.
My blood on the purple flowers.
Blossom flowers.
Trees in morning dew.
The sound of pen on paper.
Diamond rain drops.
Tears rolling siltently down her face.
Scars on my skin.
Knife covering my wrists.
The end of the world.
The blood swirling in my veins, soon to be poured out.

Graciously flies the butterfly
Through the morning sun and night
She picks the prettiest flowers in the field
With a touch so soft and light

Silently flies the butterfly
All across the garden
She keeps the flowers safe all day
She is their gatekeeper, their warden

Softly flies the butterfly
Tenderly she touches every flower
She'll never be tired of her company
She loves them every minute, every hour

Carelessly lands the butterfly
Right there on my shoulder
She looks at me as if to say;
"Don't ever grow older."

Then you said;
"Chaos is better than an unknown peace."
So I have only one question right now.
Will you dive into the middle of the storm with me?
In the eye of a hurricane, there is quiet,
For just a moment, a yellow sky.
Let there be all our chaos around us.
I'll be okay with you by my side.
Let it rush and stream,
Destroy everything and the wind flow.
We might only hear the quiet,
But we won't view the world through a window.
We'll be right in the middle of all there is,
And we won't need to hide it.

Why are we still here?
Just to paint others hair?
Hehe
Idk sorry my inspiration is gone

My apologies, for not writing the way I used to. I've said it a lot, but still. Writing changed me as a person, and a big part of my life. Yet, I can't find the strength to write anymore. I'm sorry for that. I try to keep up with everything at a pace that's not too slow to fall behind, but not fast. It's just not working out. I need to figue stuff out and find inspiration. When I had to do that, writing was my escape, now it's a burden. I want to keep writing, but it's getting a little harder every day. This is not a goodbye. Hopefully y'all understand it a bit better now. I'll try my best.
Sincerely, GSG

I don't want to write, or do anything else. I have energy, but a lack of motivation. I don't care about my words anymore, they're just sentences smacked together. I want to dream. Just lucid dream, until the sun rises for the 5th time. Until you'll be mine.

I'm just gonna,
Be a poet?
And write you some cheesy stuff?
Is this how you do it?

Some people
Make you
Feel
Like
Home,
Even in the
Middle
Of
Nowhere.

Is having self-pity
So much different than lying?

What if
I just
Don't
Post
Something
For
3
Months

Y eah no

A poem always reminds you of something,
Doesn't matter what it is.
But when I show you my writings,
Give me your opinion,
Instead of telling me whatever it reminds you of.
The poems I write,
In your eyes are something I could truly never be.
But if I show you something,
The way how I feel,
Why can it never be really me?

I really don't know anymore.

I heard you laugh
And I wish I was a part of it

Dear G,

It's been a while since we last talked, although we've been messaging indirectly (like this) somehow. That's better than nothing, but still. Knowing that you remember me feels good, since I haven't passed a single day without thinking of you. At least I'm not invisible to you. Like I've said to myself to many times; Letting you go was one of the dumbest mistakes I ever made. It was my own mistake, and I'm sorry.
I can't explain why I left you (yet. someday I will) but I hope that that doesn't stop you from being amazing at what you're doing.
I think that the thing that hurts the most, is not knowing how you're actually doing. The only way I ever hear something from you is stuff on HelloPoetry and via anime memes on your instagram story. Looking at the poems you posted, you're doing better. I don't know if I should be happy or not with that. I probably should, I want you to be happy.
I'm not begging you to get back with me, be friends again or even talk to me. (There would be to much to discuss anyways) Hell, I'd never wanna see myself again. But still,  nothing ventured, nothing gained. Maybe, when you're ready, if you ever will be, or already are, consider it. Consider reviving what we had.

Sincerely, yours

Lillie

VI - The lovers

Your love is stronger than the wind
Full of rythm and harmony
But an important choice must be made
It's a choice to change your life, you must be ready

Do not be tempted by the devil
For their love is sour like an apple
Listen to your lover and yourself
Before your choices make your love ripple

The most important rule is
Don't ever cry, no matter what.
You're vunerable.
And you can't be vunerable in front of someone,
Not even yourself
You'll lose yourself.
Because as soon they see that they can break you
It'll drag you down so far you'll never get up
And if you don't show
You're balancing on the edge of the well
And the people who ask why you always look so sad
Are the ones that push you.

Hey. Here's another letter kinda thing. Been writing these a lot lately. In my mind, never on paper. I don't really know how to explain what I feel anymore. It's like, I have this sense of feeling? Like I know that they're here, but I just can't seem to find them? Like I can see someone else in front of me, while knowing that they are a person with feelings and thoughs, but not being able to recognise them. Not being able to see the person standing there. Like I can see all of it, but not knowing that it's there. It kinda scares me, in a way. Like I see myself, but not me. Like I see something I was, that people still see as me. I don't know anymore. I've been trying to get my feelings out, and I still am, I just don't succeed often. This is seemingly the only way to get out whatever I'm thinking or feeling. Which is a lot, but also nothing at the same time. I feel lost, so incredibly lost. The world's passing me by and I'm behind a ******* window trying to reach it, but I can't. I never did. I just taught people how to communicate with me through that stupid barrier. It never went away. But if people don't come close to you they won't notice that, so it's fine I guess. And then you came in and smashed the entire thing with a ******* hammer. I wasn't used to opening up to people, especially not people who understand. But, I'm glad I did, and glad that you are here to listen. I don't open up to people much. Been botteling these emotions since 2006, so it's hard to open the bottle now. But I'm trying, and I can't thank you enough for being there with me. Thank you, so much. I love you, bye.

Ah yes,
A new year to completely **** up.
I promised myself I wouldn't drink the next half decade.
I failed within the first three minutes
Happy new year

You've already been in there for way too long.

The last day of the decade in which I grew up.
Funny. Every year felt like a decade itself.

Is this a celebration,
Or eternal death?
Is this a good thing,
Or an internal war?
Writing so much more,
The best filtered out.
But the poems never shown,
Maybe the best of all.
If poems are sometimes,
Actually true feelings
They will not be seen,
Because we cannot be honest

My diary is in "crypted."
Every letter is a different sign.
I guess I don't want anyone to read my diary
I want to keep telling them I'm fine.

******* addiction.
******* depression.
******* pills.
******* alcohol.
******* love.
******* suïcide.
******* Truth.
Why me?

You can't raise Hell with a saint.