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warm golden sun rays shine through the grey clouds and hazy mist
I listen to the soft sound of rain hitting the earth
and the rustling of the meadows long grass swaying in the wind
i watch raindrops drip from flower petals
i feel both at home and out of place
the cold rain soaks through my clothes
today smells like petrichor and lilacs
and nostalgia for a time I long for but cannot get back
you are warm and kind and you give me butterflies
when i am with you things feel bright and exciting
you make me feel like I am in home depots lighting section
poem I wrote about my boyfriend when my thoughts were barely coherent
We used to go on walks together all the time, especially during summer.
A picnic table at the park on the way home was where we would always stop to rest afterwards.
And I can't help but say that the hill it resided on gave us a lovely view of the sunset and city lights across the river.
We would just sit there, close enough for our legs and shoulders to touch, laughing and talking or finding contentment in a comfortable silence.
Today I sat on the picnic table alone, you've been gone for a little while now.
l was shivering from the rain that soaked through my clothing and the wind stung my tearstained skin.
And I can't help but say that the sunset and city lights across the river was a lonely view without you there.
You've been gone for little while now.
Summer doesn't feel right without you.
i miss being your friend
My favorite places don't feel the same without you anymore and I've realized you were so intertwined in my life that theres traces of you left behind everywhere I look
  I still have the heart shaped rock you picked up off the side of the road, its been sitting on my nightstand beside some of my other favorite items all this time
  My favorite coat is soft and comfortable and its a lovely shade of green, which is my favorite color, and it was given to me because you wanted me to stay warm when it was cold out since I was bad at finding appropriate clothing (I still remember how you'd hold my hands to "protect them from the cold")
  Art that we drew together is filling half the pages of one of my old sketchbooks from that day we woke up early and went and sat by the river to draw together. We sat really close, so I began to draw flowers on your leg and then you drew flowers on my leg too in return. And I think that was when I admitted to myself that I liked you.
  I've come across photos where the marks you left on my neck were visible and now flashbacks wash over me in waves and I try to not drown
Soft lips along with teeth against my skin used to give me butterflies but now the warm fluttering feeling is gone and it feels more like taking a hard punch to the stomach
  Even my body has had traces of you left behind on it before
  The other side of the bed felt empty since I was aware that you'd never sleep next to me again
  I got new bedsheets so that it could feel like you had never even been in my bed in the first place
  It helps but theres still traces of you everywhere I look, and sometimes I still feel your presence and I forget what its like to be able to breathe
  You're the one that has killed me and yet you're haunting me like a ghost
bad poem time woo
I shut my eyes and Im back to where we were before.
  Its a hazy summer evening and you and I are sitting on top of a picnic table, looking at the city lights across the river as the sun is setting.
  You and me and your sister are all laughing at the dinner table because she accidentally said something flirty towards me, and she seems embarrassed when you jokingly say she can't flirt with your girlfriend.
  You and I are laying on my bed as we read your favorite comic books, you take pauses from reading to tell me about your favorite and least favorite characters and I happily listen.
  We're sitting in your car and we're singing along to songs from our favorite bands. You and I sound equally terrible and we keep laughing between the words we sing.
  I open my eyes and Im back to where we are now.
You hurt me and now you're gone and I miss you.
this poem is like a month old but I honestly forgot to post it bc it got buried in my phones notes
I don't want to be so scared of death, but I am soft and weak so I will cry
But at the same time the thought of death is winsome in some way
After I've been here for enough time and experienced all of what I longed for and loved all the people dear to me, the thought of my bones resting in the soft earth gives me a sense of comfort
But im scared because I don't want to leave all of those wonderful things behind
I cling to how it feels to be alive like a little kid might cling to their leaving mother, weeping and trying to hold on
Can't I stay? please?
its bad poem time
Under the calm damp shade of some trees in a field that wildflowers have made into their home, you're lying on your back.
There's a change in your heart rhythm.
An unfamiliar numbness creeps in.
Your breathing becomes a little laboured.
There's a sick feeling in your stomach.
Your gaze is fixed upon your delicate fingers as they slowly tear apart the beautiful purple flowers you had been holding.
Lately it seems like thats what you do with most things.
But you're starting to do it less.
You wonder if any of this matters.
It does.
Your worn out old self is going away.
Its change and change is scary but its going to be okay.
Everything is growing and changing and you're slowly getting better.
Not all good things last but neither does the painful things.
Your desolation is quieting down and becoming easier to get through.
Close your eyes and pay attention to the sound of the gentle breeze swaying the grass in the field of wolfsbane flowers you lie in.
its going to be okay.
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