we’re too tired, but we’re awake anyways --
as if no one will ever see
the sun rise if not us,
as if no one else can feel
the pain we force on aching bones.

as if, we are the only ones
ever to feel this empty.
we pile on excuses
like layers in the winter,
scratch out our dreams
onto scraps of old paper.

we can only scream when
our heads are underwater,
and they wonder why
we haven’t drowned yet.
the truth is, we don’t know.

we kick and scream
at the thought of giving up.
of being alone, of being with
someone, of being alive.
how have we held on so long?

someone must be the one to try
and hold the world up,
somebody must be the one to witness
the pink sky at four in the morning.
and if not us,
           then who?

an old poem from this summer that i still feel in my bones.
deery 6d


Maria Etre Jan 10


Nayana Nair Jan 9

The trees don’t whisper,
don’t console me with lies
that they have heard too many times.
They tell me that this sorrow won’t go away
atleast not without me.
That there will be days I will look at
the empty chair opposite me
and my coffee would taste of tears.
Days when I would wake up
with a blanket of despair over me.
That I will stop at certain words
and certain names,
and feel too broken in this happy world.
That I would stop taking certain roads.
Stop going to certain places.
So that my ache in my chest
won’t eat me up.
There will be day
when I would have given up
on all that I was.
And sure enough
the sorrow went away,
taking away everything we were.

fatima Jan 5

a distance of light year
and a havoc of universe
our worlds are asymptotes
with a bit of formula

but how could we become parallel
maybe it's just myself
or things are meant to be that way
the reason is unfathomable

if it's me
kill me with your words
for i am worthless of your love
and your euphoric existence

if it makes you happy
leave me with a smile
'lets meet at the universe' tell me
and i'll wait for you to come

in worthless im sorry

to that friend
Mims Jan 2

I sat in the kitchen alone
With a cup of tea
And I'm trying to rinse all the aches in my bones
That wish you were sitting next to me.

Cné Dec 2017

Daylight, it seems seldom seen
Your absence tells which season's close
Time to reflect on months gone by,
Darken thoughts begin to flow

Passing smiles caught through busy streets
Searching for warmth indoors in front of fires
Glasses clink, toasting the year's end
Solemn thoughts of moments never shared

One last farewell, to yet another year
It's late now, a window candle is lit
One more drink poured, the last stories shared
Another year, things change, the same thoughts afflict

harlon rivers Dec 2017

In a midwinter night’s dream i lost myself,    
  or was it even this year ?
It may even go back farther out of reach,  
  older than the ancient pyramid stones
Before the rebirth of past life deposits,
  unborn orphaned motherless sediment,
flotsam of the ages adrift,
  unknown for more than a thousand years

... i've been waiting for so long to see

High atop a slippery edge-cliff
  i clung  ―            
Searching for a deeper understanding
  of who i am;

Roosting like a starving bird of prey
  with a broken wing
  born alone ... holding on
With a fear in his eyes
  that i could comprehend
  Staring way down deep        
into an internal pitch black abyss,
  just begging to see beyond ―
Mindful it's so hard looking
  into the eye of a storm

Intimately parsing the recurrent source
  of reigning pain
Where the perpetual fog of isolation dwells;
an inversion,     preventing dispersion
  of the nimbus  cold  and  dark

In the darkness, there bides a suffocating
  A swelling silence what loudly knells,
  leeching through a perennial ache

An abating voice within hollers unheard,
  invisible as a bitter cold wind howling
  relentlessly through the hollow pang;
Echoing the subsiding say
(squeezed out) ... of an orphaned soul
  deep beneath the light

Awakening to realize  ―  once i was alive
i could feel me holding on to you


Written by:   harlon rivers ... 12/30/2017

Thank you for reading this personal introspective journey  ― peace
Ashley C Dec 2017

So much to say, yet so little to say.
You think what it would feel like to be loved, to love.
Thinking how it would feel to cuddle with someone,
and feel like they can bandage your wounds and keep all the strong inside,
warm your cold heart so your not spewing your burdens on others,
collect your tears and tell you the story hidden in each and every one.
They tell you those stories are nothing,
don't worry, the real stories are the ones that never shed,
because they never disappear into the sheets of the bed.

so much to mean, yet so meaningless.
You think of all the people who've loved each other for years,
twenty years,  fourty, sixty, their whole life and think,
I'll wait because my soulmate will be here in the end.
Then you remember those who can't stay put for one week, for one day,
for one month, because they can't seem to find those broken pieces,
from your last relationship, and put them together the right way.
They can't seem to find the right tears to throw away,
they're basically telling you to suck it up because it's not their time to tell you every little thing is okay.
Then you think, I need to hurry find someone quick,
because what if my soulmate never shows up.
I need to look for them and take them now.
Your so quick that you don't realize that their insides don't glow,
so quick that their words don't stick, so quick that their touch doesn't sooth.
They say "I love you" but they don't seem true.
They were just like you, to quick that they find your insides don't glow,
your words don't stick,
your touch doesn't sooth.

such a strong word, yet so simple.
They think your words "love" mean something,
but you threw it out as a simple word and not what they wanted it to mean.
There you go again, so quick you become like those who aren't color.
Color, love can be color, apparently it's so simple to say with color,
but not so easy to feel or hear with color.
No wonder you can't get it to stay colorful as it flows out your mouth,
no wonder the color spills off it and into the streets.
No wonder there is so many people in the streets,
maybe they're looking for that color to fix it, to stick with it,
but everyone knows you can never find it again.
You made your wait longer then it was,
you made your heart desperate for color, but no matter what,
you can never find that color anymore. So give up, better wait,
cos' it's all you got now.
Your gonna have to let your heart ache for a while,
your gonna have to keep wondering for your color even though you know well that you can't find it ever.
So sit tight, and think with the others.

"What is love?"

Would this count as a poem? I mean, sounds poetic to me.
The thoughts of love by a fourteen year old.
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