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itsmekacey Feb 16
i am all alone
please don't lie and say
i am loved
because that's simply not true
life is pointless
why would you ever say
there's hope for me

(now read bottom up)
we used to walk downtown
close to Christmas
you would be stoic and quiet
I would get excited over anything we saw

you wrote poems about me
you told me the most wonderful stories
I always listened
when you called me your little Sunlet

I loved you
I still do

to love a poet is not the same as to be loved by a poet.
to be loved
is so much more fulfilling
I loved you

moon

-L
to my sweet moonbeam
you are loved
you are missed
A box, small and unassuming,
holds more than metal and stone.
Three rings, each a chapter closed,
a story whispered, then silenced.

The first, a Hawaiian sun,
gold warm against my skin,
a maile leaf lei etched in enamel,
a promise of island days,
a love as bright as the tropic bloom.
But the bloom faded, the sun set,
and the lei withered, a memory
of sand and surf, and a love
that sought solace in another's arms.

The second, silver, a simple band,
smooth and cool against my finger.
A barrel, strong and unadorned,
like the love we built, or so I thought.
A quiet strength, a steady hand,
a foundation laid, brick by painful brick.
But the foundation crumbled, the walls fell,
and the silver tarnished, a reflection
of a love that found comfort elsewhere.

The third, titanium, cold and hard,
dragons entwined in gold, a symbol
of power, of a love that burned bright.
A fierce embrace, a passionate fire,
a connection that felt unbreakable.
But the fire dwindled, the dragons slept,
and the titanium grew heavy, a weight
on my hand, a reminder of a love
that sought warmth in another's gaze.

Children grown, their laughter echoes
in the empty rooms of my heart.
Their friends, once my own, now strangers,
their lives moving forward, while I remain
anchored to the past, a silent observer.
A long-distance love, a whispered promise,
a fragile thread connecting two souls,
but the distance stretches, the thread thins,
and the whispers fade into the wind.

I stare at the box, at the rings within,
each a symbol of what was, what could have been.
A new ring beckons, a design forming
in the depths of my mind, a symbol of hope,
of a future yet unwritten.
But doubt whispers, a serpent in my ear,
was it me? Was I not enough?
Or were the circles simply incomplete,
destined to break, to shatter, to fade?
The Weight of Circles, heavy on my soul.
Q Feb 13
Not yet plant or earth but soon.
Not yet runes or sin immune

In this room, and as my tomb,
My voice, only speaks as blooms:

Maybe then the creatures and eaters
Can make a home out of this unbeliever

For maybe I perceived or perhaps I was the deceiver
But I hope that in death,
I could be their redeemer
So when the weavers weave their homes
All along my bones,
My tryst with the reaper
Are where the feasts were.
I tried to try something different
Andrew Feb 13
I do not exist when I’m alone.
Not in any way that matters.
I move, I breathe, I think,
But it feels weightless, distant,
Like a story left open in an empty room,
Pages turning for no one.

Nothing is real until someone is there.
Until a glance, a word, a touch
Pulls me from the quiet.
Like I am only a reflection,
Flickering into being when seen,
Vanishing when the mirror stands empty.

Do I exist when no one is looking?
Or do I fade into the spaces between moments?
Drifting somewhere between thought and absence,
A pause too long, a whisper among the breeze,
A shadow with nothing to cast it.

And when I step back into the world,
I pull myself together with careful hands,
Wearing the shape they expect to see,
Smiling, speaking,
As if I had been whole all along.

Maybe that’s why I hold onto every word,
Every glance, every touch.
Because in those fleeting seconds,
I am seen.
I am something.
I exist.
I walk toward the door
Lights getting brighter by the second

'i was hoping youd stay'

I
Hesitate.

only for a moment.

and then i am gone.

when i think about that day, i wish i had stayed
closer
to
you.

i wish i had hugged you tighter...

i wish i had said more than 'goodbye'


i wish



we





hadnt



grown














distant.

-Liam
a poem for a friend. even though he will never see it.
Vianne Lior Feb 12
Night swallows the sun,
leaving only shadows tall—
we remain,all that’s left.
"I love you"

I love you more

"I miss you"

I miss you too

"We need to talk"

What did I do?

"It's me, not you"

Is it really?

*no response
I thought they loved me
I sit on the cold tile
outside my class
people walking by
cold digging into my ***

the squeak and buzz of basket ball boys
girls laughing around the corner.
I work on my project
my poems
my life

and somehow it doesn't get any warmer.
currently in the school hall because I had a panic attack again IN ******* CLASS
Laokos Feb 9
I have frozen lake independence—
self-sufficiency stuck in a state of stasis,
waiting for spring or a better excuse.

I’m the last bud in the bag,
that lonely bit of green at the bottom—
each time you reach for me,
you know you’re running out.

I’m a scarf left outside,
stiff as a corpse, wrapped tight
around a post under the overpass.
Some do-gooder tied a note to me—
“Take me if you need me.”

but nobody needs me.
everybody’s got their own warmth,
their own coat, their own somebody.

so I stay there,
*******, forgotten,
waiting for some cold *******
to come along and wrap me
around their neck.
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