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Bhill Sep 29
Coming to the rim
The rim that suffered through time
Eternity, gone

Gone and in the past
In the past and now absent
Forgotten, forthwith...!

Brian Hill - 2019 # 245
Are you at your rim yet?
i will worth
that great wealth

to be wide of her
as the rich one

heard me
noticed me

how i talked
about her

he spies
he sends eyes

until he sees
he loves

he tells the offers
and i had chances

to be rich
or have her smart

but i love her
i let her know

any more
she does know
me

i become wide
i do not take that amount
which makes absent
to any mind
the man loves her, he wishes every good to who beloved. and he can sacrifice for
Khoi-San Aug 19
He opened his arms,
like a catchment for rain,
took their tiny fear
nurtured them
for many years,
melting moments
huddled with love,
candy hearts
made out of tears.

.
Pappa at the orphanage
Why aren’t you here?
I feel like screaming
If I ever had a chance the words would disappear,
You’re never going to be close enough to hear me,
You must have blocked me out long ago
And now all I’m doing is disrupting myself,
Maybe it’s you that’s giving me ill health.

It’s okay, I don’t mean it,
I could say I know it’s my fault
But then something stops me,
The fact it is not,
You left me, you deserted without ever existing to me,
Yet I have to exist just because you decided?
I don’t care how you put it,
You weren’t there and “nothing being fair”
Is supposed to make that all okay again.
It was never okay to begin with.

Maybe I could have been enough,
How would you know?
You never gave me a chance to try,
So when I feel like trying, I push all this distraught energy upon myself,
I doom myself to days of playing to lose,
Because what is the use?
I blame it on you, then I blame it on me,
Even though deep down I know it’s not really
My fault because you did this to me,
How could I have hurt you?
Just some innocent cells that you’d already decided
Were too much for you.

Or I make different scenarios,
All of them painful and none profound,
So I can spread this blazing blame,
Across two people who
Will probably never feel shame about it,
I let my mind drift to an alternate universe,
Where maybe you could’ve been good,
Just a little, although I feel ashamed
To let myself immerse in such pointless activity,
In an alternate universe I wouldn’t be deserving anyway,
But it’s all pent up, and I say it’s how you’ve made me feel,
But what if it’s just me?
What if the whispers are right and it is my fault?
Maybe you were always better off
Without me and that’s why you’re not here,
Because you should never have been weighed down by me,
So well done, congratulations
Because you know you never were,
You must’ve got your happy ending,
While I’m still here waiting
To feel like I can love someone
Even if your ever there space may have broke me.
Meeting after long period
Meeting after long absent
She had asked
He had asked
"why did you late?"

She answered
To gather my thought
To feel how I demand
You when you are absent
Or even you are present

He said,'
To see myself
Equal to you to give
The happy you dream and want
As you are the most brilliant
I had ever acquitted
the love makes every word good and the time passes vryeasy
Write to me as I always write to you.
Express your feelings and your mind.
I remember those special moments, those special times.
We exchanged notebooks full of our thoughts.
Writings of life, love, sorrow, and secrets.
The pain of every word wasn’t your fault.
Even when blank pages left you speechless.
To me that’s still poetry just story in your head.
Like artist that sold blank canvas for millions instead.
I remember the times you weren’t in school.
Thinking about the moments of our past.
I continued to write poetry and waited for those moments to pass.
Until the day I would see you at my locker or seating in class.
I did not ask, “where have you been?”
I only cherish the moments that would last.
You’re so precious to me and those memories.
Poetry is sometimes full of love and intimacy.
Well at least that’s how I felt in a daze only for you.
I am sorry for the lonely days you went through.
Now i understand why...
Of those Absent days in school.
Keira is my Absent Poetry
My high school friend

I remember I wrote 36 poems to you in one notebook. Fun Times
Where are you?
You’re not coming are you?

It’s okay,
I always knew you wouldn’t.
It’s just, there’s this stupid,
Childish
Part of me that likes to fantasise.
She knows you’re no good for her really,
But she imagines it’s all make-believe,
She captures her wildest, strangest dreams
And forges them into some kind of reality.

It’s sick though,
Because that little girl;
You can do anything to her
(Anything at all),
And guess what?
She’ll always forgive you.
She has it stuck in her head,
That she always needs to try again:
It’s as if she owes them all,
Even though she’s the one who took the fall.

I don’t know why she’s still here though,
Waiting.
She doesn’t want you anyway.
She could find herself someone much better to love,
Someone who’s worthy and won’t leave her
Before they had the chance to stay.
Then again,
That’s also just another twisted hopeful dream.
sushii Mar 19
Remember
What we spent?
Remember
How we wept?

Was it all null?
Was it all nothing?

Remember
What I said?
Remember
The time before it was dead?

Was it all absent?
Was it all missing?

Remember
How we held
In a still moment such as this
How we suffered for the sun
And how we rejoiced for the rain?

Remember
A day similar to this and ones past
When we were together
And we held fast?
I tell myself I don’t want him,
I tell myself,
I tell myself
But then I cry so hard
Going in reverse to a place that I’ve never yet been.

It’s supposed to get easier,
That’s what they tell you,
But this is only ever weighing heavier.
I could try to be what I imagine you’d have wanted,
But why should your mistakes make me feel ashamed?
And because of my existence I never
Want to give you what you want.

I guess I should hide the anger from my eyes,
But why prevent it when all you feel is volatile and pathetic?
Complaints when I hold it in and accusations when I don’t,
Sometimes I feel I should just hold kindness for myself.

When I have time I feel exhausted,
Later I feel like a failure to have let him win again:
It shouldn’t matter,
It shouldn’t matter.
They’d probably tell me negative affirmations don’t work,
Except to me they’re stating positives.
I’m trying to make it okay,
I’m trying to be better.

Always, I say, I don’t want him
And now his nonexistent thoughts won’t go away,
It must be my fault for becoming upset because really he’s done nothing
(Even if I can’t claim that without my own blood boiling),
Teasing myself with non-realities, with fairytales and broken dreams of a type of heaven I will never see.

My small voice murmurs,
“I want it, please.”
My brain tells me it would be better not to breathe.
In the dark it likes to help me,
Supporting in my self-destruction,
Simply because why shouldn’t it?
It’s a weapon I can use to back up anything no matter the relevance.
I’ve subtracted all the logical ways this could ever matter,
Yet it’s still here waiting for me to succumb,
Lately it gets pointless to want to hold back.
Nevertheless, with every single thought I have a defence
Because I never want anyone else to win,
I need to be ready,
I need to be able to show them all:
That this never meant a thing to me.

That just wouldn’t make sense,
To admit such sacrificial things
When I shouldn’t be the one to feel bad,
So no, just because I know it’s his fault,
Does not mean his absence hurts me.

It’s all just softly (painstakingly) nonexistent to me.
Lauren M Jan 25
We are ghosts that cast shadows
flying through your thoughts like birds:
one minute there, the next gone.
We are the birds, the absent,
and it is bad luck to mention us.
We may take wing, stop lingering and leave,
may not return, may fade away
like fog under the burning sun.

But fly to us, come to us and you will see,
we are humans with body and voice,
with eyes that see and hearts that yearn.
We shed our feathers and weave stories with them,
give them away
give them all away.
You too will know what it is to fly.

But tiredly you flag,
the wind sags beneath your wings.
You drop to the earth,
feathers falling all around you,
and we become the birds once again
fading into the morning mist
that hovers on the horizon.
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