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They said that even demons
sometimes have a change of heart.
This made me wonder.
My demons' hearts never changed.
But mine did.
And it got even darker
as it gets broken over and over again.
If I saw you again, I wouldn’t care about things that were so petty, like whose plates and cutlery lay idle in the sink...who didn’t take out the *******...who forgot to water the plants, or who forgot to do this or that.

The only sounds I hear now are our splintered voices down the phone. Every night. They grow. They break. They hover, they drift ever-so, and they try to fade. But somehow, they are always there. Lingering. Over and over again.

And as I look out at the morning’s rusty dream of dawn, a thin film of moisture condensing on the windscreen, I pause.

It isn’t the first time I’ve tried to take a film noir journey through my subconscious.

It isn’t the first time I’ve tried to pull moments and memories together to make some utter sense of what’s happening. My thoughts seem to always unravel themselves. And I struggle with them. They don’t effortlessly slot together anymore.

I often think to myself: isn't it funny how our impression of time changes? God, reflecting back on a fading memory now seems livelier than life itself.

Now I sit here, thinking all these sad and strange thoughts – that everything – time, work, effort, money, affection – are moments that will, one day, crumble and fade – that they won’t be there forever in the physical world.

Because everything we had once cherished with such love, I still remember. Still.
nathan 7d
sit and lament in the dark
heart to heart with myself
without a need for some help
put that up on the shelf
save it for a rainy day
when i know that i
won't have the strength
regardless of that,
regardless of the
length of the abyss
i just take a deep breath
and pray i reach my precipice

aligning with the thought that
i shouldn't always
search for the bliss
pain is a learning opportunity
i'd be ****** if i missed
though i'd rather feel something
relative to the opposite
my fate is written
all i have is the cards given

self-actualization
never turning away from the frays
of my nights and days
instead i organize it
pray over it
and create a space,
a safe haven for it
leading a life of reassurance
even at my lowest
perseverance in the restitution
of my joy
always searching for the young boy
in me
this life costs a lot
in different ways
but that inner youth is
always free

grateful to say i'm
learning every day
moving forward to better places
fear of the darkness
is a hindrance to my lamentations
honing the approach of my journey
as evolution and preservation
now excuse me while i get back
to my meditations

- negassie
instagram.com/sutured.soul
nathan Oct 20
thankful for my Savior
for implementing greatness in me
it's safe to say that
this life ain't easy
constant negativity
through introspection
saying that i loathe me
daily

evenings reeling on my meaning
liberating myself through this writing
perfect timing when
i see the light again
revitalizing an empty life
i'll come back again tomorrow

scythe to the neck of my oppressors
and my sorrow
healing through my mental processes
so i see the light of day
keep my faith in God
so i know that there's a way
destined for my refusal
that the evil strike me where i lay

imma never stop running
until i can do so safely
striving for the
continuance of self-expression
i never ain't me
demons tryna come for my mental
in spontaneity
running away from Satan
and chasing God simultaneously

- negassie
instagram.com/sutured.soul
Sarah Flynn Oct 17
I can rewrite this poem
as many times as I want.

that’s the reason I do this.
the reason I sit up at night,
scribbling down sentences
that may never reach anyone’s ears,
stringing together words
that may never inspire anyone,
forming poems that may
never actually matter.

that’s the reality of it.
one day, these poems
aren’t going to be remembered.
maybe they aren’t even
remembered now.
maybe when they
reach my readers,
they go in one ear
and straight out the other.

but here, on paper,
I can erase what happened.
here, I can change the story.
here, I am in control.

I can rewrite this poem
as many times as I want,
but I will never be able
to rewrite the past.
nathan Oct 14
i’m so tired of forevers and goodbyes
miming lies deep into my eyes
that’s why i feel like the truth
is hard to find
the wanders of my tired mind
control my severed tongue

severed by the thought that
my thoughts aren’t wanted
by anyone
and i’m tired of it
i feel the floating away feeling
or my desire for it
torn spirit
had some cries because of it
wish i wasn’t lying about my goodbyes
every time because i’m
scared of it

- negassie
instagram.com/sutured.soul
Nely Oct 4
I come to the idea of seeing you again, soon. I see you soon and come to the idea of when I'll see you again. And when again appears to bring me again to seeing you, I ask when's the next time I'll get to spend time with you. When's our next tomorrow. Our next next day. I don't get tired of kissing those same lips, again and again. Those same spots. Again and again. Then new spots. Again and again. That  same piece of skin under your chin. I want again, and again. & one more time, and again.
Shelly Chu Sep 28
The thin glistening needle threads
back and forth,
back and forth.
As the black thread slowly tangles in a knot

It twists and turns through each circle,
creating a lump in the center,
stoping the artist in their track,
forcing them to ponder on the black thread.

Should they continue?
Or should they stop,
cut the string and restart,
unwind new thread,
And strain their eyes again?
Kat Pan Sep 28
He doesn't love me
He pretends to smile
He probably could
It's just been a while

It's bittersweet
The way you don't care
You left so soon
Were you ever even there?

As time passes on
Memories do too
You'll forget about me
I'll forget about you

I'm moving on
You're no longer mine
As much as it hurts
I'll love again...

Just one more time...
Love, breakup, move on, repeat
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