Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
In our unfinished garden,
warm stones resting atop one another,
forming a wobbly tower,
trying to connect with a true light.

Above the smoky air, faltering steps,
can I see the true shape of your struggles?
Does a malicious gnome
shape my projections?
He topples our confidence.

Do we know if we still want the same?

Your anesthetic drops,
drunk in secret behind smiles.
Your cruelty is a sarcastic, sober blow,
breaking down fleeting joy.

I long for stillness,
for a day without wrinkles.
Why do we argue for first place?
I lost to our demons, invisible enemies.
I heal my fading certainty,
Last night, I dreamt of a well,
repeating my thoughts.

Without context, we are lost,
surrounded by thick walls built by rifts.
We are still impatient for closeness.
We grapple with a weight of assumptions.

Seeing the tower of wobbly stones,
I don’t want to let go of your hands
trusting, warmly kind,
like a promise of endless green,
in our unfinished garden.
K.
sometimes
things need to be broken
before they can be fixed </3
i needed to break up with you, to understand what I was feeling.
I'm fading with the light.
My shadow takes flight
naked unseen from sight
'til full moon midnight.
“can’t repeat the past?” he said.
“why of course you can.”
and god, i believed him.
still do, most days.
because i see you
in every flash of spring,
in the gold glint of things
i was never meant to hold.

the green light still blinks,
even if it’s just in my head,
a soft pulse saying
you were real,
you were mine,
once.

i built my love the way he did:
with trembling hands,
and too much hope.
like maybe if i hurt enough,
time will fold in on itself,
and we’ll be sixteen
and invincible
again.

but dreams die slow,
especially the beautiful ones.
and i’m still reaching across water
for something
that won’t reach back.

i keep thinking:
the past isn’t dead
if i still ache for it.
but maybe that’s just part
of the story i keep telling myself,
a softer lie
than letting go.
this is a great gatsby-inspired piece. this is for the green light i still look for. and the boy i still see in it.
no one’s here
to guard the quiet,
no voice to say enough
when the silence
starts sharpening.

i wish i didn’t need
a chaperone for my sadness,
didn’t fear
what i might do
when left alone
with my own hands.
I held the weight while others wept,
watched love choose someone else.
Buried dreams beside the dead—
and no one even noticed.
I dreamt of our house, which doesn't exist...
I'll light a candle in it and greet the dawn.
I'll feel sad by candlelight. I'll be missed.
I want you'll be near me in our house for long!

I'll walk into the garden, which doesn't exist...
I'll pick white camomiles and make a bunch.
I'll put it on the table. It'll be my feast.
Just fly into my dream! I please you much!

We'll stroll in a forest, which doesn't exist...
I'll mass there an armfull of autumn leaves.
I'll throw them into the sky. They'll be a mist.
And they'll be falling slowly under the breeze.

I dreamt of our house.  And maybe is it?
It's somewhere over the hill, green all.
The garden is so very overgrown. I'll revive it.
I'll light the candle for you to come for all.
I love my dreams. Sometimes I even want to go back to my dreams. Sometimes I do. The magic of the night, the magic of dream, the possibility to dream, to be sad, to suffer without barriers and taboos...
Thank you very much for reading this poem! 💖
Lips a shade of softest pink,
eyes a brilliant cerulean blue.  
I could get lost in your gaze,
forever drifting in the feeling of you.
I held the silence in my chest,
But my heart still beats your name
Even as you step away,
My love for you remains.

If distance writes a quiet song,
I hope it hums of me and you.
I'm not done loving, not just yet,
I still believe in us too.
Heartbreak 💔
Next page