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Evening jokes and candle dinners,
Potted flowers hammock hours.

I miss walks along the beach,
Holding hands and making plans.

I even miss arguments and hurt feelings,
Working things out, and relearning what love is all about.

I don’t miss you. This is true.
For you were wicked and cruel.

I don’t miss ***, or getting your text,
As each word manipulation, each night of passion a hoax.

I would rather like to live again,
And make plans and joke and spoil and spend,
I would rather cuddle and my life to end,

To never need love again,
Because I would rather live laugh live beside you,
My friend.
A poem she will never read.

I love you.
toleomato Jun 27
When the heart is in anguish
so few people matter.

We are all consumed by flames
which can only be quelled
by the delicate touch
of another.
But it only matters who
not how.
As long as they try,
we can come up with an infinite amount
of justifications
to excuse ourselves of our sadness.

But think of those who try
and do not a thing for our sorrow.
They are the ones who write poems
about anguish in their hearts.
Cyndi Jun 26
I wish I could cry.
I want to cry so badly...

"I...
Wish I could grant you that release..."

...Just another pain in a sea of agony;
one in which you guide my hands to swim across...
One in which you assure I'll cross eventually, I'll find land eventually if I just keep swimming because there must be land, there must be...

"I'll even carry you on my back if I must,
when I sense you're getting tired,
eyes locked on the horizon,
until we can see the distant shoreline..."

I'll keep swimming in hopes that one day I'll finally agree with you, that there must be land somewhere...
Eventually...

But for as long as I tread in this sea of tears I cannot cry, a sea I tread with no end in my sight, foresight, or hindsight
For as long as I bathe in this anguish and pain I see no tangible end to,
at least I'll feel your presence nearby
Treading a little ways away,
pulling my hand and promising of Zion ahead,
of a place where the most water I'll have to handle
will be in a tub or a glass,
where the loving earth beneath my feet
won't move out from under my kicks and steps
in such petty and malicious ways as the water surrounding me,
pulling me deeper,
seeping into my very soul does.

"There must be land ahead...
There must be....

I'll swim down to the ocean floor and build you and island if I have to...
If only I knew how."

...
A poem by Andrew Henriques and Lavender Palette.

This poem is actually a conversation between me and Andrew. You can read the original conversation here: https://imgur.com/a/WPZiUmq
the anguish
that never leaves my heart

bites my nails
and pulls my hair out

this anguish
one day might **** me

but maybe
just maybe

it already did it
I’m truly anguished, I have so many feelings, so many thoughts in my head rn but I can’t barely write, only short pieces :( not despising short poems but I feel I could write so much more
Keep beating
Your chest
Holding high
Your head
Your scriptures
Repository of knowledge
There is no need
Of school and college
No modern universities
No modern research institutes
Keep beating
Your chest
Holding high
Your head
Gurukul, guru-shishya
Ancient tradition
It's the best
Modern teachers
Be given rest
Keep beating
Your chest
Holding high
Your head
Your scriptures
Contain everything
Knowledge of health
Knowledge of wealth
Knowledge of foods, nutrition
Knowledge of all kinds
Of science
Of technology
You just
Need to interpret
Germans are experts
Who learnt
The language
Of scriptures
From your
Great goodselves
Don't do it yourself
Just sit and criticize
Modern teachers
Modern scientists
Who have given
To the society
So much
Keep beating
Your chest
Holding high
Your head
Just sit and sitshit
Keep beating
Your chest
Holding high
Your head
Your culture
It's the best
Keep beating
Your chest
Holding high
Your head
Your ancestors
Gave you lessons
Spiritually rich
Lofty standards
Imbibing made
Best culture
But you reduced
To so many Jai Chands
Remained slaves
Just for 800 years
Keep beating
Your chest
Holding high
Your head
Your culture
It's the best
Your ancestors
Gave you lessons
Spiritual evolution
Free from greed
Free from lust
But you made
Women to remain
Mostly indoors
Play home
Maker's role
They aren't safe
For outside
High character
Men roam
Keep beating
Your chest
Your culture
It's the best
A few saints
A few great men
In a society
Their excellent practices
Their excellent knowledge
Their excellent preachings
Their excellent guidance
Don't make
Best culture society
How people
Behave and act
What moral values
They respect
What character
They show
What emotions, feelings
They manifest
Women and children
How safely
They can grow
A few indicators
What culture
You belong
You possess
You manifest
Keep beating
Your chest
Holding high
Your head
Your culture
It's the best
But don't improve
Even a bit!
Jai Chands represent traitors.
Culture is an umbrella concept. You may have great arts, crafts, literature, music, life styles, costumes, customs, foods and cuisines, architecture, great seers and scholars but no ethics, no character, no security. Will it be the best culture? Culture is dynamic. There can be a sea of difference in what was and what is.
muteD Jun 12
A fiery pit
is blossoming inside of
my chest.
Where my heart
used to reside
no longer resides
a place capable of any
love.
Hate slithers in
like the first rays
of sunlight
on a Sunday morning
consuming me before I even open my eyes.

and I’m finding out
that the only way to
silence the voices in my head
is to scream my own voice raw
and drown them out.
bubbling up like a volcano
on the cusp of erupting
is every penny I’ve ever collected.
holding the memories of what
could never be again.

I’m not sure what
I hate more.
How you made me feel
or myself?
outside, amid the rubble, stands a mound two
soldiers high, made of bricks and mortar, and

cement and steel twisted up with everyday life,
where tables and chairs and beds and blankets

tumble carelessly, askew in the hot sun that beats
ceaselessly against a refrigerator toppled on its’ head,

and upon on a sewing machine halted mid-stitch,
the needle poised above the hem of a flowered dress
Lucy Apr 5
Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do,
But I had my reasons like setting you free,
Wanting you to go on to pastures green and new,
So please don’t worry about little old me,
Just know that I will always love you,
And if you don’t understand now, one day you will see,
My feelings for you have always been true,
You are always going to be ‘the one’ to me...
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