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Lilian 1d
There was once a butterfly,
who flapped her wings.
She was unique, she was beautiful,
and she wanted to die from within.

She was but a child,
she had only known so little,
she had barely learnt how to fly,
so why was she abtucted from the night sky?

The clouds overshadowed the sun,
Rain fell, even though it was summer.
She seeked a shelter, a place to be in,
She hoped for someone to listen.

There was once a butterfly,
who flapped her wings.
She was unique, she was beautiful,
and she wanted to die from within.

She was different, the winds said,
so the world hated her, the clouds wept.
She wanted to fly to the end of the world,
where they’d be no one to judge, no one to fear.

Why didn’t you hear,
the song of misery the wings carried.
Why didn’t you save her,
And listen to her despair?

There was once a butterfly,
who flapped her wings.
She was unique, she was beautiful,
and she wanted to die from within.

She had reached it,
the end of the world.
There was no to judge,
No one to fear.

So she could fly freely,
so no one hated her,
so she had a saviour,
and not a guy who couldn’t save her.

There was once a butterfly,
who flapped her wings.
She was unique, she was beautiful,
and she wanted to live from within.
In front of my eyes is a white ceiling, plain and smooth,
and I can hear my chest pounding.
I can feel my lungs breathing--inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
Then there are tugging, swinging, running---
back and forth and back and forth.
Where did it come from?
I have no clue.
White ceiling, is it all you?
Jim Vaughn Jan 14
In the time it took me to start over
I died by your side with closure
on my self-imposed solitude
from every soul in a fighting mood
with inherited axes to grind
in line
to use the men’s bathroom
during the last game,
immune to the toxic byproducts
of extended cab pick-up trucks
circling the drain of
made up
settling sentiment trickling
through the air connecting
you lungs with mine,
an irredeemable line
in the low tide sand
and
inescapable memory holes
fret the yet again brethren
sending their regards
while they take up arms
against mended fences
wrestling
with a cost,
the interest,
and late fees eternal
grown from the infernal
jest we let foment
into rent checks and
a stale hex
revealed next
to nothing
in a book I did not write
that you read all the same
Syafie R Jan 13
I drag this weight,
 each step a crime against the ground.

Am I a ghost,

too solid to slip away,

or an animal,
 broken, bent,
 flesh tight with the burden of living?

I cannot call myself human—

humans ache with love,

but I am jagged,
 a wound that won't heal.

Too wild to tame,

too hollow to be held.

Time to vanish—

to dissolve into night,

my absence felt by none.
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2024
Like an old lover,
I press my lips on the mouthpiece,
And I blow.
I blow until my lungs are about give out.
I blow until the beads of stardust twinkle.
The air tastes like rust.
Still, I play.
I may not have learned all the notes
On this blue saxophone,
But still, I play what sounds good to me.
The air rolls over me like a dream
One I didn’t have the good sense to
stay asleep and finish.

The red dust longs
For thicker air,
Burning with everything that it knows
The taste of its name,
The hunger of its touch,
The pull of something stronger
Than us both.
If silence comes from a mouth,
It is still felt, regardless of whether
It has arms.
Mars, a girl that history got wrong,
wisps through the red dust.
Whether I stay here on Mars,
Return to Earth, or go somewhere different,
You never forget the way breath
Feels against your skin.
Never.

I continue to press my lips on
The mouthpiece,
I blow until my lungs are about give out.
I play what sounds good to me,
Whether it’s old or new.
Love is still love,
No matter how cold it gets
Valentin Eni Nov 2024
We are strangers, strangers we remain,
From distant worlds, apart we came.
You call to me, I call to you,
But silence answers, cutting through.

You don’t know me, I don’t know you,
Our thoughts diverge like morning dew.
Alive we are, yet still we stare,
As if from graves, from shadows there.

I’m not your loss, nor you are mine,
Like clouds, we drift through endless time.
Wherever I go, wherever you’ll be,
We’re at the edges, lost at sea.

Yet yesterday felt near and bright—
You held my hand; your voice was light.
When love was endless, pure, and true,
And I was me, and you were you.

When whispers spoke of tender care,
And hearts embraced in love’s repair.
When vows were shared, no lies between,
And strangers we had never been.

I
(Alternative translation)
STRANGERS

We are strangers, strangers through,
From worlds apart, both old and new.
I call to you, you call to me,
Yet silence falls like waves at sea.

You do not know me, nor I know you,
Our thoughts like paths that never grew.
Alive we stand, yet lost we seem,
As if we lived within a dream.

I do not miss you, nor you miss me,
Two fleeting clouds the wind sets free.
Where you may go, where I may roam,
We’re at the edges, far from home.

But yesterday, it feels so near,
I held your hand, your voice sincere.
When love was boundless, bold, and true,
And I was me, and you were you.

When whispers shared what hearts could feel,
And hands embraced with love so real.
When we were one, no space between,
And strangers we had never been.

II
(Literal translation)
STRANGERS

We are strangers, strangers we remain,
From different worlds we come.
When you call me, when I call you,
We cannot hear, we cannot hear.

You do not know me, I do not know you,
I have one thought, and you another.
You are alive, and I am alive,
But we look at each other as if from graves.

I don’t miss you; you won’t miss me,
We are two clouds driven by the wind.
Wherever I am, wherever you are,
We are at the edges of the earth.

But, it seems, yesterday there was a day,
You remember it; I remember it, too,
When we could not stop loving each other,
Believing we would love forever.

When I whispered how dear you were,
And we held each other’s hands with love,
When you told me that you loved me,
And we were not strangers at all.

III
(Original poem, Romanian)
STRĂINI

Suntem străini, străini suntem,
Din diferite lumi venim.
Când tu mă chemi, când eu te chem
Nu ne-auzim, nu ne-auzim.

Tu nu mă ştii, eu nu te ştiu,
Un gând am eu şi tu alt gând.
Eşti vie tu şi eu sunt viu,
Dar ne privim ca din mormânt.

Eu nu-ţi lipsesc, tu nu-mi lipseşti,
Suntem doi nori mânaţi de vânt.
Oriunde-aş fi, oriunde eşti,
Suntem la margini de pământ.

Dar, parcă ieri, a fost o zi,
Ţii minte tu, ţin minte eu,
Când nu-ncetam a ne iubi,
Crezînd că ne-om iubi mereu.

Când îţi şopteam ce dragă-mi eşti
Şi ne strângeam cu drag de mâini,
Când îmi spuneai că mă iubeşti
Şi nu eram deloc străini.
The poem explores alienation, distance, and nostalgia for lost intimacy. It reflects on the transformation of a once-deep connection into estrangement, showing how love and familiarity can dissolve over time, leaving behind a haunting sense of separation.

The poem reflects on the fragility of human relationships and the pain of estrangement. It conveys how love, once profound and unbreakable, can fade into distance and disconnection. Yet, the poem also suggests that such painful memories hold a certain beauty, offering a glimpse into moments of genuine connection.

“Strangers” is a poignant meditation on love, loss, and the transformation of intimacy into alienation. Its images and rhythmic structure guide the reader through a journey of longing and reflection, making it deeply personal and universally relatable. The poem leaves an emotional impact, inviting readers to consider their experiences of connection and distance.
David Hilburn Oct 2024
Walk for it...
Ideal's for sojourn's deed
A promised jewel for your wit
Spare to my eye, wishes will feed...

Mercy, to a quaint dance
Might a problem sit?
I will still kind, of a shared defense
Misery, is remembering when I meant...

Simplicity's swallow...
Of verisimilitude to conceive
All's of a decision, here to hallow
Risks or retinue, waiting is ours to believe

A drive for impression...
Is salt the divine?
A shame has tendered, a care's lesson
A quieter question, that will share haves marital shine?

Profession of a charisma's flower:
Shall we compare ourselves
To awe or wisdom, known a charity for my sighing's lover
That has a voice that gave merit, my name, for what delves...
SomeOneElse Mar 2024
I don't want to be
where I'm not wanted but I
WANT TO BE WANTED
A constant theme in my life
Francie Lynch Nov 2023
I've been exposed.
Many have witnessed me,
And more have noticed it.
The ones I taught to use a spoon,
Tie a lace, ride a bike,
Arise from a fall.
Those whom I've instructed
On when to listen,
When to question.
They've acquiesed to the knowledge.

The colleagues I once cornered with
In serious situations;
When our decisions effected others' paths;
Those who recognized my signature.
They've acquiesed to the knowledge.

I meet less often with friends.
I ask for less favours, and return fewer.
I don't stand holding meaningful conversations,
Sipping strong drinks.
I wear a cap indoors sometimes  (I once condemned this).
But, here you have it.
They've acquiesed.

I'm on my own now,
Hoping my memories are real and are mine,
And my ideas are new and genuine
(I change my mind a lot).
I seldom check the weather;
I've cancelled my cable (and this is a milestone).

I've enroled in a new world order.
Ask anyone you can find around here.
I no longer run the world.
Anais Vionet Oct 2023
Thrice about the cauldron go
and answer me, if it be known.

Untie the words and give them form,
dissect the ingredients of ******’s charm.

A new tradition has traction gained,
a tradition of alienated masculine pain.

Where insults demand their due in blood,
in schools, stores and quiet neighborhoods.
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