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 Mar 2021 John Bartholomew
Diana
You.
Are.
A.
Walking.
Masterpiece.
The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
 Feb 2020 John Bartholomew
Anaïs
I found myself falling,
Spiralling out of control,
reaching for the melting stars,
tumbling into the unknown,
Signals fired,
The last scent of familiarity
fled, I looked back and saw
the blurry outline of my
comfort zone
You mind your steps
   after you've stumbled.
You miss your home
   after you’ve left it.
You value your health
   after you’ve been sick.

But you can’t enjoy life
   after you died.
carpe diem
 Jan 2020 John Bartholomew
Sienna
It's the days when you don’t cry,
But you don’t smile either.

It’s the days when you’re quieter than usual,
And people notice.

It’s the days when you aren’t quite thinking about anything.

But if someone asked you what was wrong,
You wouldn’t know where to start.

— The End —