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 Jun 2018 krm
tm
flowers at her feet
 Jun 2018 krm
tm
i was made to love her
throwing flowers at her feet
brushing her black waves
fixing her golden crown
comforting her soul
writing stale love poems
daydreaming about her
losing sleep thinking about her

i was made to love her

- t.m
 Jun 2018 krm
Angela
i remember how it felt when we were sitting on top of your car
staring out into this little city
with expensive taste
the feeling of my head leaning onto your shoulder was so comforting
the sun was setting and your body was guarding the sun from shining on my face
we sat there in complete silence for a few minutes
and then you asked me how my grandma passed away
so i said it
you listened and wrapped your arm around me when i got weak
then you opened up to me and i grabbed your hand and held it
i kept looking at you and i heard the hurt in your voice
and i wish you would let me in the walls you've built around
so we can light a match and burn it down
but there is no doubt in my mind
that if you could
you'd crack my ribcage open
and pull my heart right out when ever you wanted to
and then id be left with nothing
but the words you said to my ear
that have sunk into my veins
and wont get out of my skin
 Jun 2018 krm
Patricia Policarpio
I'm actually wondering
Why poems are mostly sad

Contains our loneliness,

Reveals our pained and broken hearts

Unfolds our depression and anxieties

Tells the story of how you are left behind

Says the words and feelings unspoken

Shows are darkest thoughts and emotions



Maybe poems are mostly sad
Because happiness is easy to show
But our sadness is for our heart's ink and papers alone


Maybe poems are mostly sad
Because this is the only way how to make
A messy mind and soul into a beautiful work of art


While poems are mostly sad
At least it doesn't make us feel lonely
There's that comforting side that makes us go on with life

When you're reading other people's work and you're thinking

That you exactly feel the same

That, finally, someone put your thoughts into words

That someone also goes through what you're going through


That, at least, you are not alone


So maybe sad poems aren't always totally sad poems
Maybe sad poems got that tiny bit of happiness in it

*Maybe sad poems aren't just sad
Maybe sad poems are actually a silent type of a happy poem
For most of my poems are sad poems or love poems...

(January 9-June 21)
 Jun 2018 krm
AP
friends to acquaintances
together to alone
comforting streams to open oceans
warm flesh to rotting bone
from bed to soil
from earth to unknown
what will you say
when i lay in a place no longer called my home
but a graveyard
of silence and of stone

a stranger in a holiday card
voicemails become mementos
my laugh an ancient folk song
and the poems will attest to those
for the words shall live on
through dusk onto dawn
they will merely curve to your interpretation now
the neck of a swan
 Jun 2018 krm
Jolan Lade
Hello
Sweet blow
Feel the flow
I just know, everymind can grow
Although its snow, we find the comfort below
To me
Every electron
Cirkelig every proton in
Every atom
Has a purpose
 Jun 2018 krm
Mateuš Conrad
mollusks are most affected,
by a breath infused
with whiskey...
                which is almost odd,
had it not been
for the cuddling,
riddle of:
                        subertive rats.
 Jun 2018 krm
wisteria
Red screamed
 Jun 2018 krm
wisteria
Red screamed to Sky—
“Why can’t I be Gold, who is cherished,
jackpot, a bull’s-eye. Honey glazed fields
and caramel skies eaten
up like a succulent mango. Gold
gets to fill the pots
on the end of rainbows,
while I am merely a member on the spectrum.
Gold is a craving, desire, a thirst,
but I am     hardly     much. Rust, decay,
a rotting radish, I weep from their bodies,
defective. I’m the polluted breath
on their polluted tongues, I scorch
their skin and blast their wicked hearts out.”

Sky whispered back—
“I look down
on the globe and there are no distinct, dazzling
metallic Yellows, but I see you,
Red, in the rose bouquets and apple trees,
in blushed cheeks, and soft
kisses. Red,
you are dewy strawberries
and strawberry bushes with ladybugs dancing
on half eaten leaves. A woven picnic
blanket, checkered in line with the adoring
couple and their glimmering hearts and their freckled
faces, rain boot hit puddle, bitten lips, lip bite cherry,
sip wine in scarlet dress, spicy pepper,
firework—
You are Red.
when Red wishes it was better
 Jun 2018 krm
Edward Lear
There was an old person of Rimini,
Who said, 'Gracious! Goodness! Oh gimini!'
When they said, 'Please be still!'
She ran down a hill,
And was never more heard of at Rimini.
 Jun 2018 krm
Pax
first love
 Jun 2018 krm
Pax
Doesn't matter who
come first in your heart
as long as I was the one
who stayed
true to my love
for you.

you were never
alone...
first love only last as long as you stayed true to your love. sometimes the heart gets tired, it weathers as you stop nourishing its root - neglect and broken trust, a heart can die.

thanks for reading.
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