Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Anka Oct 2023
I hope someone thought of me
When reminiscing on days long past
Of memories on crowded sidewalks
And me in their peripheral, existing quietly
Anka Oct 2023
A cup of tea and daisy keychains
Mark your presence in my peripheral
Oh, dirt,
Why did you take them from me?
Don’t you have enough to bury
Today, I prayed to God to let me die
And I was cursed with the knowledge that I will keep living
I’m not someone that will be missed for very long
So the pain I bear wont be moved to many
Why are you gone
And why was I ever here?
Anka Oct 2022
Those hands that used to turn the pages of a Bible
now load **** into a bowl,
fingers shaking
Anka Jan 2021
All mom ever wanted
Was to see all of her kids in church
And it happened
On the day of her funeral
Anka Jan 2021
I looked at you, and I saw stardust on your cheeks,
Saturn in your eyes,
and comets falling from your fingertips.
Anka Mar 2019
I can’t say when it started,
me grabbing on to every precious moment
while life taunts me like a ticking clock
counting down the seconds
until my heart shatters into pieces.

It became more than a hobby or a habit,
it became an obsession.

Still as a stone,
not breathing,
I can spend hours upon hours
rewatching and remembering
what I would never let myself forget.

It’s both a blessing and a curse;
struck dumb
watching pictures and fragments dance in my mind's eye,
the only things moving are my lips that smile
and the tear that runs down my cheek.

From the vast expanse that is my mind,
new ideas and new thoughts come to light,
things I've never thought of before,
never realized.

Fragments of a shattered poem
that will be sung as a lullaby in a hundred years,
remembered by those who thought they forgot.

Yet I lay here, and remember.

The white walls tell their own stories
and are pressing in,
but the floor beneath my back is keeping me grounded,
keeping me sane.

My mind will continue to spin its tales
until I'm lost in them
from now until forever.

The end result is still the same.

No matter how long,
how hard you hold on,
there will always come a time for it to go,
whatever it is.

You will still hold on until you can't any longer,
until all you have left
is the bittersweet memories
and the pictures
left in dusty frames.
Anka Mar 2019
Bed
There are many people you can lay in bed with,
But there are few who you'll want to wake up with
Next page