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Julian Revà Apr 2018
There's a gap between what
I fear and what I think
to fear; there's a night, sure,
between those tiny things

Because to fear is to live,
as the leaf
in the burning forest
still breathing, fearing
not the death, but leaving the living

I do not fear the death
I just fear the night falling over
my sholder, my head; my integrity
what it means being me

I fear those things I'm not certain of
(as the rest of living things I think)
But scarier is to know
that we truely do not know
the certainty of all
the things we say we know

And of all those nocturnal dreads
there are a few that keep me awake
waiting for an answer that will never come
as the lost remembrance of an ancient love
as the farther forefather of a forgotten folk
as the man watching through my window
in a windy storm passing by the city

There's a lot of dreads at the midnight
that keep me awake thinking
about things that I should not
but I think all the condamned
are bound to write about nightmares
and imaginariums that does not belong to us
but yet, they're ours to transform

And maybe one day the dreads will go
far away from our city, as the storm
maybe one day we will burn as the leaf
and then we will stop fearing
what we do not really know
Skye Mar 2018
shuffling papers together into a pile,
you look like you’ve run a mile.
in such a hurry of what you’re looking for
that you forget what you’re pushing ashore.
papers strewn across the table
gathered in a fit of labor;
you’re in a hurry to chase the next high
but are you really? or are you really just chasing flies?

i am the paper that slips out of your grip.
i am the paper that hangs off the tip.
the floor beckons my fall,
the drop becomes a call.
a call for help, yet a call ignored
as you left me on the side as though i am nothing more.

(maybe its because i mention death like a prayer.)

i am the paper that idles by.
i am the paper that was hung out to dry.
you’ve purposely left me behind.
you’ve shoved me aside blind.
i trusted in you therefore i am blind.
when you confided in me, i was kind.

(maybe you were hurt by my actions.)

i am the paper sitting silently.
i am the paper binging on anxiety.
pick me up again and i’d be useful.
use me again although it may be cruel.
i don’t like the feeling of being abandoned.
it makes me feel like i’m a loose cannon.

(maybe your dead stares makes me ill.)  

i am the paper that flew with the wind
i am the paper you seem to have skimmed
i am an afterthought, i think to myself a lot.
i am being overlooked like a blind spot.
i am forgotten just as easily.
you’ve gotten rid of me, finally!

(maybe i should scratch until i bleed today.)

i am the paper that is facing down.
i am the paper that is close to breaking down.
i wear a mask that is always cracking.
because i am done pretending.
pretending that everything is okay.
pretending that i am sane when i’m being put on display.

(maybe i should be punished for thinking this way.)

i am the paper that flew into the mud.
i am the paper that is drenched in my own blood.
i am weak but i am not.
i am strong but i think not.
i am tired but i am trying.
i am trying but i am dying.

(maybe my death will prove that i am right.)

i am an afterthought that is being forgotten
and i know its a lot for you
but if you ever think me rotten,
tell me now because i am not willing to be the paper
that was made out of spun cotton:
valuable until deemed unimportant,
helpful until easily forgotten.

(maybe I can finally sleep tonight.)

i am an afterthought that is being forgotten
and i know its a lot for you
but its a lot for me too.
you left me behind for greener pastures, so i wrote about you on paper and then burned it to ashes.
Lauren Leal Sep 2017
Without you I'm content with life
All you did was brandish a knife
And named it love, but the hilt was made of self-deception
That you'd go for like an interception
Just like you'd intercept my feelings
With playing the victim and all your dealings
With the demons you swore to never be
We'll see who you become when you can't leech off me
Crimsyy Jul 2017
Your name tastes sour
in my mouth,
I should be breathing you in,
but I want to spit you out,
cause I'm just an afterthought,
an occasional roundabout.

You surround me
but never close enough,
we keep arguing in circles
and I've had too much

Sick of nursing
this brick in my chest,
wonder why I haven't left yet,
sick of feeding
the doubts in my head,
I think you'll be my next regret.

You let snowflakes
fall on my tongue,
am I supposed to
think that's sweet,
when your love is built
on nothing concrete
and you seem to be
a one end street?

You seem to be one for the road,
but you still haunt my sleep
and so while I toss
and turn for you,
your mind is devoid of me.
Racquel Davis Jul 2014
In short: you're a protist.

©Copyright 2014 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis
Now, I lay me down to sleep

In this dark, dreary December

If you awake and I am gone

What would you remember?

The way I laugh at little jokes

or how I drink my tea

The way I do the little things

Would you remember me?

If I had passed on in the night

would you think of how I looked

at ball games and at puppy dogs

and of all the things I cooked

My scent, would things remind you

of how I sometimes smelled

would you think of things I ******* up

and of all the times I yelled

If you awoke one morning

and found I'm not to be

what would you remember?

would you remember me?

If things did happen backwards

and I woke and you weren't there

I'd miss the way you smiled

The perfume of your hair

the ways your eyes did twinkle

when you had a special thought

of doing something naughty

of somewhow being caught

I'd remember things about you

of glances in the night

of how we worked together

of how we fit just right

I know that I'd remember

these things and more, you'd see

but I know, that I'd remember

But would you remember me?
Marquis Hardy Aug 2015
To be an afterthought, manifested as a shrug then BOOM forgot.
Well, forgotten.
Forgotten about when you wanted to do something more worth doing, or maybe worth talkin' about.
The pain shot through the heart, and left an open would in my chest, but writhing here felt like a place I could finally rest.
If I was worth remembering,  worth the top spot at the front of your brain, maybe then I'd be worth your attention, like the homeless when it rains.
I just didn't want to be an afterthought, because now that all there was to think is thought you're the only thought that's left, and I hate thinking you've forgotten me as I come to my last breath.
I said the word afterthought yesterday, and it isn't a word a say often. This is a partial look at the gravity of the word. The title is broken up, not by ignorance, or accident. It's on purpose. Using the title 'AFTER THOUGHT', changes the actual definition of what an 'AFTERTHOUGHT' is, and that's the most appropriate for this piece.
apintofwords Sep 2012
She was an afterthought,
Like salad,on the side
Like a footnote to a long letter,
Like curry leaves to gravy,
Like the dregs at the bottom of a cup of tea,
Like the second man on the moon,
She was an afterthought,
Always a step behind,
Always a second choice,
Never sought after or valued,
Neither loved nor cherished,
Like a faded old photograph,
Like an out of tune guitar gathering dust in the attic,
She was an afterthought,
Quickly replaced,easily forgotten and never remembered
Megan Sookram Oct 2014
Days become smaller as nights take over.
You move faster as you go further, away with the sun.
No more warmer as the tension grows stronger.
The air is colder, the breaths are shorter.
Time moves slower.
Your grip gets tighter, as I start to waver.
And everything I've bled for never even mattered.
With you, it's just a sliver, filled with hope, as it grows weaker.
The heart, it withers, and here we are, lost in whatever.
Whatever this is, you keep me here, where I don't even want to be near.
Let me go, I don't want to be lost in you, already consumed by the truth.
Hesitation follows, as you stay leaving me hollow.
There's no light coming through, and I'm losing sight of myself when it should have been you.
So please, stop stringing me along, when all you're doing making the rights wrong.

Nothing gets better; because of you, forever never comes closer.
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