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Hae Sun Dec 2018
Today, in this early afternoon, the sun is missing but I think I met someone I could like - actually, maybe I already like the person enough to type these words that were stranded in my pocket for so long. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Am I supposed to talk to him? To take him out for dinner? Ask him if we could ride the train together? Maybe I'm not supposed to do anything, maybe there's nothing to be done with it. It's just funny how I used to think that in real life - this ordinary and mundane life - we don't meet someone just as it plays in the movies. We don't meet someone we would ever so suddenly click with, we don't meet someone who would ask us all the right questions no one bothered to ask. We can't meet someone like that, I thought. But then, just as the universe knows every single push and pull of our being, it happens. We meet someone who would ask and listen. We meet someone who feels easy to be with, someone with courage and grace - but then it ends there. We meet someone and sometimes that's it.

The universe designed us for the longing and the missing and the hollowness that comes with it. It makes us live with the thoughts and the questions of what ifs and what should've beens but lets be glad it does. For at least in a moment, in that fraction of time, you know they felt it too.  With such fleeting silence, the world slows down, and the sun decides to show up only to adore what it would soon lose in that early afternoon.
not really a poem I guess
rayner Dec 2018
these lines are covich
with an urban cold twist
we keep our clothes thick
what's fitted on your hips
ain't  suppose to hold this
love is blind so i flow mist
forecast is ohh ****!
poverty cast lines like get drunk off rose pitt
feeling like a snail against the law of motion
your either drown or keep your head above it
i stay cooler than an ocean
poem of the day
Abby M Dec 2018
His heart beat in two
And mine was in three
Our cadence was always just off
But I switched to a two
One bright afternoon
When I missed a beat trying to cough
j Dec 2018
its three o'clock
i wish i wasn't going home alone
my sadness, it *****
then add this playing melancholic tone

the same playlist on repeat
i keep on thinking of you
my heart still skips a beat
i love you, always



--jeannery a.

what's the date five days ago? It was written five days agoo soooooooooooo
Gianna Nov 2018
it´s five in the afternoon
and i tricked myself into thinking you´d like me back
but how can i be so sure
when you treat everyone like that?
it´s five in the afternoon
and i´m thinking about you
again
how could i have been so foolish?
Emma Nov 2018
Pitiful aqua trying not to dissolve into the afternoon sky
She feels her dreams of being free also pass by
Her orange to pink hair falls unto the sandy beach
And remembers the dreams that are far too old to be in reach
Nectar from her locks engulf her body into a sweet poison
That the purple tinted water swipes away from the ocean
The black birds flap away as the orange vicinity closes
As the woman’s purple lips drip in shades of wilted roses
I recently got a tub curtain, and it has a large flower and then three mini flowers or so, all filled with the color orange and fuchsia, with dark pink branches, which gave me a sunset, tropical and memory lane feel, hence the poem.
j Nov 2018
In the middle of the afternoon
I realized, everything will be gone soon.
I have a problem that I can't say
I don't know how to make people stay.

Everything's falling apart,
I know what to do in my part
But I let ***** happen
In the end, I'm always forgotten.

I know I'm the one to blame
Why things are like this
For my reasons are always lame
And that's why I'm not in peace.
It's afternoon and my mind's a mess, my heart's not in peace and my body is weak to process things. How do you make people stay?
David Abraham Oct 2018
Meet me one day in the inky black shadow
when the ground is speckled with the sprinkling of the glaring flow
to bathe ourselves into warmth with the sacred, shining, golden ichor.

The sky burst its vein on the jagged peaks on the horizon,
so let us cherish its blood
and lay on our backs among the buds
until we wizen
in the flood.
2304, October 24 2018

This is more of a narrative than most of my stuff.
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