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Joshua Phelps Sep 2023
it's a bittersweet
moment, to leave a
page in the making

a hopeful, beautiful
story

filled with
confessions
and life's lessons.

haunted by a
tragic story
from the beginning,
to the midsummer's
end.

you caught me
right at the moment
when i felt
a little less than.

there's weight in
these lines,
and sometimes
it's hard
to take in.

the words,
just out of focus,
but clear in my
head.

it's a bittersweet
moment,
to leave a page
in the making.

i can't wait
to see you
again.
Joshua Phelps Sep 2023
Almost a year later,
I still wish I
hadn't lost my focus.

I let the
Lens focus
on the wrong things,

In the wrong places,
And it’s all just a
mess.

An accidental shutter,
Now the picture's
faded, and

It's hard for me to
discover what life’s
meant to be

When it’s just me

Out in this vast,
dark world,
feeling lonely.

Burning out,
Just like a dying star,

Feeling temporary,
I'm barely
holding on.

Just being alive
doesn’t feel alright.

Feeling out of place
and overexposed,

Just like the
Polaroid on my chest.

Looking at the smiles,
A bittersweet moment,

A moment in which
I hope I don’t regress.

I know it’s hard to progress,

And I know I just need
to convince myself and
trust the process.

I know this won’t
last forever.

Photos capture
moments,
And I must remember

This isn't the end
of my chapter.

The world moves forward,
and moments last forever,
and hurt is only temporary.
"horrible bird"
she called it
telling of how
she had watched
a crow pluck
and pry at
its weakened prey
while perched upon
the bird bath
outside her window
at the garden's edge
despite this sternest
of lessons
nature at its most fickle
she still sits
in her comfy chair
looking out
over a bank of flowers
buoyant in bloom
enjoying the sight
of wagtail
bunting and finch
alighting on the stone plinth
pompous and preening
refreshing themselves
admiring the plumage
of their reflection
before returning once more
to wing and wind
a neighbour
plays saxophone
somewhere down the street
it sounds like
they are at
an open window
practicing scales
bursts of pieces
previously mastered
other segments
yet to be perfected
those standard exercises
again and again
with missed breaths
and off-note *******
building in complexity
but slowed down
beyond recognition
with their concentration
no doubt
seething at times
behind closed doors
as fingers refuse
to obey
not moving fast enough
assuredly enough
it should annoy me
it usually would
this distraction
while I try
to read or write
the stumbling repetition
of practice failing
to make perfect
but today
there is a calming
in the familiarity
of it all
Psych-o-rangE Jun 2023
Accepting the gift was always easy

Committing to it was always hard

No compass, no road, no map could lead

No language, no gesture, no one to teach

No god, no idea, no love, no hate, no reaction, no purpose, no reason, no thought, no spasm,
no fiber,
.
no spark.

There, I broke it.
Miss Fit May 2023
He wanted a woman with curves
She was too self-centred
He chose one with pure skin
She was too sensitive
He got one with flawless hair
She was too cocky
He opted for one with a beautiful face
She was too rude
He went for a fair skinned one
She was too lazy
He switched to a chocolate skinned one
She had terrible cooking
He looked for a tall one
She was disrespectful
He went for a short one
Her temper was even shorter
In all this he learned tolerance
Now he accepts the perfect imperfections in people

Miss Fit ⚓
rory Apr 2023
i must proclaim
acceptance of myself
that the people who leave me
have their own lives to oversee and ponder

they wouldn't be with me
at all times
in sadness and in blissfulness,
in my comedies and tragedies,
and in the spasms of my heart
that have experienced melancholy
and disguise with just a smile.
I see so many ads now
they feed into my insecurities
and help me to notice everything that is wrong with me.

"Got stretch marks?"
they ask, and my eyes shamefully
trace down my chest to my inner thighs and I learn to hate what I see.

So I read on, hoping to learn
how to get rid of the natural signs of an ageing vessel
"Neosporin, coconut oil, and olive, and they'll be gone in a week."

The ads proclaim, and so I do as they say
because how can I be pretty
if no one else thinks me so?

"10 Tips on How to Get the Relationship of Your Dreams"
"5 Signs that You're Not as Pretty as You Think You Are"
"4 Things to Try to Spice Up Your *** Life"

"1 Way to Tell Whether the Creepy Old Man on the Corner Thinks You're Worthy of Being Catcalled by Him"

I read on, trying to understand what it is to be pretty
but the more I see,
the more hopeless I become

Men will only ever see me as a piece of meat,
just a pair of **** and an ***,
only there for their enjoyment or pleasure.

but I am not here to make things easy,
I am more than the sum of my parts,
more than my cellulite and hip dips

I revel in my stretch marks
I have grown into the woman I am today,
and I refuse to erase the proof of that.
I am not here to be a ******* incubator. I am not here for man's pleasure.
C E Ford Mar 2023
Somewhere out in another universe,
I'm 12 years old
and I'm sitting on my bed listening to something through
a hopelessly tangled white headphone string,
flipping through the dog-eared pages
of my favorite book while everyone is sleeping.

The sticky, syrupy air of summer floats through an open window
and nothing bad has happened to me,
no scalding words or hot fingers
etching their prints into my skin.

I haven't menstruated or fallen in love or  yet shrunk myself down
or any of the things that made me a woman.

I am warm in my white tank top
and the blue satin shorts with the printed clouds
wondering about trips to the beach
and sticker placements on my new notebook from Borders.

And I hope she's always able to stay like this,
that she never knows of the kinds of stains
that won't wash out of her white tank top.

And that every once in a while,
I might just catch a second of her laughing
from the room next door.
Grief is never linear. Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of your workday thinking of how another you in another universe is doing.

And I really hope that she's doing okay.
uv Mar 2023
I am not social
I am scarse
I dont need to show up
If my heart does not ask

I am not available
I am not a farce
I dont need attention
Atleast not by the vast

I say i dont care
I say it, again.
Again and again
Till it feels like a mask

No need to follow
No need to like
I can grow, i can flow
I can be a social dislike

My talent is mine
It's whispers are mine
For me, for me
For me is the rhym.

You can leave me
You can, you can
Leave me you can
But i still love the best i can

I love the best i can.
Just pause, pause this race, you are more important than what others might think.
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