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Eliza Jane Oct 2013
late nights and homesick hearts never make for a quiet soul
excessive coffees and quilted secrets make the heart beat fast,
palpitating, jumping, murmuring hyperbolic hopes

late nights and homesick hearts can only be softened
when one's soul is at peace,
hopeful,
restful,
joyful.
Distress shows on my face
like atheism in a priest
yet is welcome in my head
like a baby in its crib.
I'm always where I don't belong
always finding myself singing songs with cicadas
I'm always losing my head
And finding myself stuck, still a slave to time
it's time I find so pressing
not some boy's dejection or rejection of my kind words
(in that sense, I can make 101 comparisons
of myself to a rubber ball, always bouncing back)
no, it's time I'm so scared of
it's time that's constantly breaking my heart
when I fall in love at least 32 times in a day

I fall in love with contentment,
with the sunrays that filter through the leaves
of early autumn trees
with the slight lisp
situated between my favorite singer's lips
I fall in love with the milliseconds when
life seems sublime
when I snake my way out of glass,
when the wind dances on the
ski-***** of my nose,
the moon lifting me up
putting pretty words in my head.
Time will always be sure to come and
rob me of these lovers of mine
and so
naturally,
in their passing I am left hollow,
confused,
longing and heartsick for something that no longer exists
but is still very real
Jeff Stier  Jul 2016
Confession
Jeff Stier Jul 2016
My avid gaze
spoke to the rosary
of your flesh

My heartsick tremors
marked me as a wanted man
and burned the villages
of my ancestors

I was a refugee
from time
a friend to no man

My tears washed the blood
from my hands
my eyes withered
the tender bud

So when did I read poetry
on your lips?

Did your mountains fracture
and disintegrate into
sparkling shards
as mine did?

Was the moon an egg
in your basket
as it was in mine?

Little do we know
of the other
when first we clasp hands
and agree

In time
and with luck
we learn.
I tried to write a poem in the style of Pablo Neruda.
Annelyra Mar 2012
Maybe the hardest thing
is knocking down the castles
that we build seamlessly
and unconsciously in the air,
brick by screaming brick.
Redshift Dec 2016
heartsick.

heartsick because i want those brown eyes
only ever to look at me
that huge smile
only ever to be mine
i want your lips and your arms and your chest
with me
around me
laughing and holding and exclaiming.

you make me
heartsick
in the most thrilling
gut-wrenching
tension-inducing manner

those other boys?
lust.

you?

heaven.
Kaylee D Mackey Feb 2011
Let not my eyes close for truly resting;
I shall not sleep until I return home.
Until I am aware of your presence
Before me, then I shall cease to exist.

In future, come clarity upon me,
That it may give me the strength to go on
With life and hope, as I wander, endless,
Until the day I shall return to love.

Though my insides quake with fearful hoping,
I shall not falter, for you lie waiting.
True to my word I’ll remain undying
And honest, until the day our eyes meet.

A lips’ sweetest kiss doth long awaits me,
A promise to never part as we have.
February 7, 2011 [my first attempt at iambic pentameter]
Moleko Sula Sep 2015
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Spells caster
Meghan Fuller  Oct 2013
Heartsick
Meghan Fuller Oct 2013
My tears fall on another mans shoulders because you aren't there to catch them when they fall.
My fears are done away with by another man because he actually cares about my safety, something that you didn't.
My worries and doubts are taken care of by another man because you were never around to listen to me and help me through the hard times.
My anger is held by another man because you would never want to talk about me, it was always about you.
My laughter is caused by another man because you were never around enough to ease the pain that I feel in my heart.
My heart... My heart is held in another mans hands, and he handles it with the love and care it deserves.

My only question for you is, where were you when my life felt as though dilapidated and I needed someone to lift up my soul?
You were sitting in your house, playing video games, and talking to other girls...
Bartholomew  Dec 2018
Heartsick
Bartholomew Dec 2018
Since you’re gone I’ve been dealing with the hurting
Happiness in my life, felt like I deserved it
Me and you was an item, I guess it wasn’t working
Drinking all these bottles, tryna bottle my emotions....
and I’m smoking

To calm down my nerves
Numb down the hurt
And I can’t find the words
To express
So I can write it in a verse
but just the thought of you makes the feeling feel worse

From trials and tribulations
Smiles are fabricated
Out of desperation
Im asking how can I make it?

Without you...

Cuz I’m so lost and gone
Tryna find another love but my heart is torn

So I grab a bottle and light up another spliff
Thinking suicidal, how can I live like this
Thinking bout your touch; how soft and warm
Then I think about your smile ******* it’s gone
honor Feb 2015
i think about all the lessons i have been taught. i take them to heart.

i think about how even when you want to urge "drop dead", the moment they tell you they would cut their throat if you didn't love them, the words burn up in your mouth. i love you will not roll off the tongue as easily. when i find myself throwing away everyone who excels in ways you never could.

when someone invites me to walk besides them without words, when a stranger is just inches in front of my footsteps. crossing the street, passing them, being anywhere other than behind. how i can never walk besides someone in case they pretend like you did.

when friendship was about grabbing a fist to pull your muddied self off the ground, when the hand that feeds you is the same to slap you. how you say you're sorry and when i say it doesn't matter, it means more than one thing.

what happens to me when i don't speak my mind. what happens to me when i do.

putting a name to the workings of my heart
a funnily familiar word. it comes to me, where i've heard it before, that time i heard you spit it out when i was walking home.
somehow it still doesn't come as easily as it did for you

looking at the mirror
wondering who in their right mind would, if your sick self hadn't wanted to.
and what a pity for you that you coaxed me out of my shell but not quite these intimates.
i wonder how i was too young to know better, and too old not to by anyone else's standards

i don't patch myself up as much as i do try and build over, hibernate for winter in a coffin i picked out myself.

do you think that if i had my hands in your chest like yours had mine, i'd finally be enough to make your stomach turn?
it's not really worded for beauty as much as it is "i started thinking about a lot of bad things and wanted to get them out of my head". repressed anger is fun.

— The End —