Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ProfMoonCake Jun 8
I saw you today.
Your shoulders filled the frame.
Your eyes looked like pools of hope.
I looked away every three seconds,
pinched myself—
Is this real?

I spoke to you yesterday.
We laughed.
Intimacy is scary.
The faceless souls on the internet
make me feel safe.

They don’t know how I look,
how my hair flies everywhere.
It’s easier, you see.
They’ll never see my thighs,
or squirm at my nose.
But you—
you will see it all.

You are the sun,
and I am the moon.
I’m scared of the eclipse.
When everyone photographs it,
I stay hidden under covers.

How can I tell you?
How can I tell you
about the dreams and demons?
You are so bright—
I’m scared I won’t help the shine.
  Jun 8 ProfMoonCake
alex
Much like you
I feel pain
when I am wounded

I cry
when my heart
shatters quietly

I begin to doubt
when silence
lingers too long

And I light like fire
when I feel
seen by you

because, much like you,
I want to be truly loved
even if it’s the last thing I do.
We carry different sorrows but dream alike
  Jun 6 ProfMoonCake
badwords
I fed grief for years—
now joy knocks, and I answer.
My ghost waits outside.
**** 'em all!

#haikusarebadwords
ProfMoonCake Jun 6
I don’t know who I am without Woe.
She’s been my other half—
The sincere and attentive arm.
Her body feels familiar to lay with:
The curves of her back,
The curly black hair—
They feel like home now.

It’s hard now to smile.
When I do—it’s scary.
I prepare for the earth to swallow me whole.
She flows through me,
Delicate, quiet, and lethal.
The sunflowers look the other way,
And mountains become stones.

I don’t know who I am without Woe.

My parents didn’t raise me like this.
The boy who kissed me didn’t know.
I’m married to her now—
She is my one true love.

My baby, I am scared to watch you try
And fail.
Maybe I will **** her tonight,
Or poison her each time you talk to me.
She’ll die a little with your songs.
She’ll die a little with my walks.
She has to die either way.
ProfMoonCake Jun 5
What I fear the most
Is being not enough for the world.
I tell myself every day:
You are trying. It’s not easy.
Be kind—it’s the mindset.

Alas, I fail.

I didn’t care for my mother.
I don’t understand my father.
I idolize my brother
And refuse to fall for a stranger.

Where will I go now?
Maybe to the mountains.
The fear creeps in again:
The mountains are too big, and I am too small.

I’ll try again.

I’ll go to the sea.
The salt will be enough.
I might catch this wave—no, that wave.
My fingers slip through it all.

I will hold your hand, maybe,
While you show me what’s yours.
I think I’m scared of being the dark,
The same dark you are afraid of.

Darling. Babe. I might call you these names.
I fear I won’t be enough for you.
I hope you’ll help.
I hope you’ll wait.

I hope you’ll have time.
Have any of you felt like you will rub your sadness on someone and ruin their lives?
(Maddy’s Music challenge:
“Write a poem based on three words from a song.”
Song: 'Words of love' by the Beatles 1964
)

I’m the harshest critic,
the truest of nonbelievers,
when words of love are used.
Soapy words will not deliver
so please stop trying to be smooth.

Don’t compare me to a summer’s day!
I know that’s from some Broadway play.

Waste not flattery’s rose
praise not my grace,
at least not to my face,
you’re better off praising my clothes.

Forgo sweetness, promise nothing
then you may be onto something
say it, straight up, I won’t faint
trust me, sir, I am no saint.
.
.
A song for this:
Words of love by the Beatles
Next page