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  Nov 2018 Semicolon
Theshygirl
"Don't touch me," I whisper.
Usually a phrase reserved
for those who have a reason.
Abuse, assault, or something along those lines.
Not for me
a girl without a reason.
Maybe its an anxiety thing
or part of the depression.
Or simply because
I'm afraid.
Touch is equivalent to affection.
Maybe I think I don't deserve it
or maybe I'm scared to hold onto it.
But nevertheless
you'd think a person would listen.
Back away or freeze
And decide not to touch you
because its not what you want
whether its only a kiss or hug
from a family member
You'd think they'd register a no.
But they don't
they surge forward
wrapping themselves around you
suffocating me until I'm gasping for breath
"Please don't touch me"
means nothing to those
who have hugged you before
because they think they're special.
  Nov 2018 Semicolon
Theshygirl
What is love?
Is there really a definition
for something so broad.
I doubt you can narrow it down.
Which is why I say
"I don't know"
when you ask.
Because how do you know
if you've been in love
if you can't even define it?
Maybe I am in love
but how would I know?
How does anybody know
if they've ever truly loved someone?
  Nov 2018 Semicolon
Theshygirl
I was an idiot
Blinded by smiling teeth,
A hint of red in pink lips,
Flecks of hazel dotting green eyes.
smeared mascara tricking me into thinking
That maybe you cared.
Something old I found...
  Nov 2018 Semicolon
Theshygirl
I haven’t written anything
Not in awhile at least
And for a minute
I think it’s because
I’ve finally lost myself
My creative side at least.
But soon I realize
It’s simply because
I’m happy.
The things I write
Are twisted and depressing
Sometimes too dark
To even represent
My true self.
But they were decent
Some even good
And it makes me miss
Being sad.
  Nov 2018 Semicolon
Edmund black
One
clear moment
One
of trance
One
missed step
One
perfect dance
One
missed shot
One
fleeting life
Hearts will stop beating
But love will never die
Thank You my dear friends for all the love and your support , I am all gratitude... I’ll be back soon..... stay blessed!
  Nov 2018 Semicolon
ac
I don’t know what I’m waiting for
To publish my thoughts.

What’s the worst that can happen?
I have too many drafts I’m scared to post. Are they written well enough? Is it too personal? Is it “poetry”? Is it stupid? Will people get it? Does anyone even read them? Ugh
  Nov 2018 Semicolon
raphæl
"Come, sit down." the healer says
as her patient gazes emptily.
Clinic was dim, table's a mess
"Here's a cup of tea."

The healer dusts her hands on her coat
stained from making medicine.
"What are you here for today?"
"Same as last time, but I have caved in."

"I know just what you need,"
the healer unsheathes a frame.
The patient woefully sighs and
sobs without a bit of shame.

"I can't look again, it reminds me of her!"
to a portrait of a mother and daughter.
"Don't worry," says the healer,
"Tomorrow, it will get better."

The clinic was her art studio;
the medicine were the paintings.
The healer was an artist—
an empath in broken things.

"Through art, dismantle your heart
embrace the facts of your pain.
The wounds of the past shall heal
and your love for life shall remain.
"
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