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Juno Apr 17
These poems I write, they’re my escape,
though from what I do not know.
My troubles seem to evaporate
the moment I let them show.

I write about love, which is ironic
because I’ve never had a lover.
I used to think maybe I was sick;
for I’ve never longed for one either.

I write about death when I’m feeling down
so I can cry to something new,
but thinking to when I lost real tears,
maybe they weren’t mine to lose.

Even now as I write this down
- my headphones on but paused -
I wonder where my motives are bound,
for I always feel like a fraud.
tia Sep 2020
my heart does not beat
and I only dream of what it'd be
like to touch you and be warmed up
simply because of human desires

your hands can be replaced by anyone
you wander my daydreams
but never my slumber
you enter my thoughts
you leave just as easily
rewritten poem from a long time ago
tia Sep 2020
my fingertips are cold, with slowed movement
and there is a grace to them, dancing in such a sorrowful way
I'd almost think they were longing for someone
to hold them, locking each other, and brushing against

and yet, my mind grows uneasy at that idea of warmth
I draw my frigid hands away, escaping the touch
how unbearable it would be, in all reality
they remain as they are, how i'd prefer, lonely.
take this poem however you want to, for me it is an expression of myself
Juliet Aug 2020
Hindi kailan man umiba ang pintig ng puso,
Pusong ikinabit sa mga emosyon,
Emosyon na hindi malaman kung bakit nagsimula,
Nagsimula at bumuhay sa magugulong pangarap,
Pangarap na magmamahal ngunit hindi kayang isuko,
Isuko ang puso para sa iba.

Iba, iyan sila. At iba ka rin sakanila,
Sakanila na nagsasabing darating din ang araw na magmamahal,
Magmamahal ng buong puso at kaluluwa,
Kaluluwang hindi sigurado kung totoo nga ba,
Totoo nga bang may kahati ka,
May kahati ka, at ako nga ba?

Ngunit lumipas ang panahon,
Panahon na nasayang sa paghahanap sa tutugon,
Tutugon sa kaisipang itinatak nila sa isipan,
Sa isipan kong naguguluhan.

Ngunit aking napagtanto,
Napagtanto na hindi lahat iibig sa alam nilang paraan,
Paraan kung saan ang dalawa o higit pang tao ay pupunan ang kakulangan,
Kakulangan na sabi nila'y mabubuo lamang,
Mabubuo lamang kapag nagtagpo ang mga pusong natutong magmahalan.

Ngunit paano nga ba magmahal?
Magmahal ng isinusuko ang lahat,
Lahat na gagawin ko rin sa aking mga kaibigan,
Mga kaibigang handang pakinggan,
Pakinggan tulad ng pakikinig sa boses mo,
Sa boses mo na tila tumugon sa boses ko,
Sa boses ko na bigla nalang din natigilan.

Ngunit hindi ito para sa'yo,
Sa'yo kung saan may nagpatigil ng tinig ko,
Tinig ko na nagtatanong nanaman,
Nagtatanong nanaman kung bakit tila may mali sa sariling pagkakakilanlan,
Pagkakakilanlan sa puso at sa pagmamahal nitong alam.

Isang araw gumising nalang,
Gumising nalang at napagalaman,
Napagalaman na maraming paraan ng pagmamahal,
Pagmamahal na posible minsan,
Minsan... o siguro nga'y kadalasan,
Kadalasan ay iba ang pagkaunawa,
Pagkaunawa sa pag-ibig na pilit nilang itinatatak sa isipan.
idk migjt have broken some rules but forgive me im just trying new things out
JT Jun 2020
We like chopping our love into pieces.
We like labeled jars, tiny portions;
we ration bits to our mothers, our friends,
our courtly lovers, clinging and clutching,
no crumbs for the people we don't know.
The truth is, there is one, enormous love.
One fire in the hearth, one warmth,
one cornucopia resplendent on the table.
There is one home in your heart
for all of it.
An entry for a shortform poetry contest.
Sh Apr 2020
If I told you I could love,
Would you finally be happy?
See me grovel at your feet, submit to your delusions of
The perfect world in the palm of your hand.

If I told you I could lust,
Would I satisfy your thirst with my lies?
Sweet drops of honey covered deception, the sting solely in my heart.

Could I live like this, I wonder.
If only I could face the road of rotten land, live in the shadows and the muck of sweet lies,
Of honey covered poison.
morseismyjam Mar 2020
I do not know myself yet,
I'll tell you when I'm older,
I'll tell you when I'm ready,
It's not like it's a secret

I do not understand you
I thought I knew how I was
I thought I knew my limits
What's happening is brand-new.

You do not know yourself yet,
Don't see how kind you act
Don't see how wise you are
I don't know how to process

I think that I might love you?
Which I thought was impossible
Which I hoped was a mistake.
So what am I gonna do?
getting feels and boy howdy it's a ride. Don't be grey aromantic kids. Pick one or the other, because this kind of *****. in actuality, I'm quoiromantic, which means I don't really know if what I'm feeling is romantic or not. Confused? so am I.
Sh Mar 2020
I want to be kissed the same way I once craved adventure;
A little girl, dreaming of climbing mountains, of quests just like the ones in her books.

The same girl dreams now of the gentleness of soft hands cradeling my face, of stars in my eyes and giggles in the night.

I want to be kissed the same way I once craved adventure;
In theory.

I want not the cuts and bruises from the stones, the unbearable sun beating down at me as I climb higher and higher.

I want not the relationship, strange lips meeting mine.
I don't want to see a face all too close, to know its details or hear its name.

I don't want to be kissed.
I want the fantasy of romance, the love of the story, the soft gestures of imagination.

If I am but a character of my own creation,
then I don't want the story to come true.
Me, reading a story with good romance: *swoons*
Me, imagining it happening to me: "ew, no thanks"
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