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Avoidant of the decades
I lived in your accolades
And when I left you in the open
You left me go unspoken.

My pain is yours
To be written on all your doors
For everyone to know
Hatred is the new low.

And if I had something else to feel
I'd say it's not real
This is the new ordeal
Revenge with not much else to feel.

And in-between the praise
They don't know the man I raised.
To the main I raised.
Every time he gets closer
I take a step back
I tell myself don’t ever
become too attracted

Fear of commitment makes me wanna run
Whenever I hear the word love or trust
Cause those words are hard to come by
And they like to fly away like butterflies

They’re futile lies gone too soon
That slip away from grasping hands
And they flutter up some other room
They didn’t remain, do you understand?
They united some other bride and groom

Futile lies and butterflies
Phyllis Hand Oct 2021
Knight of the night
Fearfully incising the hearts
Of those you pass
With pasts
Of unreliable mothers
Fathers
And caregivers

Knight of the night
I try to look
At your presence
As a gift
But in the midst
Of your silken touch
And unsuspecting kisses
Pressing heavier
You've made your impact

Knight of the night
I wonder of your return
Do you feel shame
In your silence
Of naming this sweetness
A forbidden fruit

It will not swallow you,
I promise
I will not let it
For if there is a day
You feel you cannot leave
I will lead you to the garden
And leave you there
So you can grow

Someday I will return
To enjoy the fruits
Of which we loved and labored
Abundant

These,
Gifts of two worlds
Please, realize
You need not be chained

Gifts
Of our worlds
Are to be celebrated
Unshackled
From self-imposed narratives
Free
Maya Duran Sep 2019
iii.
He reminds you that you may never be loved
In the way that you are supposed to
His heart opens as it should
A halved pomegranate
And the jewel flesh spills forward
In effortless bounty

Yours was wrapped in butcher paper
With care, long ago
It lives in the freezer
In the way, way back
Ice crystals form slowly
Until they resemble a silver blanket of moss
"Cavetown wrote a song about your ex and we played it all summer long" pt 3. This poem isn't about what you think it is, but I don't think that that matters so much. The feeling is the same at its core, even if the circumstances are not.
Saint Audrey Apr 2019
Though I see well enough
Lucidity escapes me
Left withering and splintering
In the face of change
In spite of the ending
Something writhes inside of me
A solitary heave
Railing against eternity

But I still cling
To the bits of shade

Every death is unique
As detailed as a fingerprint
I'm still not sure how to communicate
This intrusive thought, it never goes away

Please...
I need is to die knowing
That it wasn't all for nothing
That I gave this life for something

Maybe I've been too detached
Maybe I've been contradicting
Falling fast from what I'm needing
In hopes of finding something real

So outside the mind, enhanced
I see visions of my self
Inside my skull I sit and wait, pondering
If I'm even alive, as eternity
Stretches out before me, but
Nothing scratches that itch
Waiting for a fabrication to take me in
In the days to come...

I'll still cling
To the bits of shade
Jerrad Johnson Apr 2017
For a friend I wish, but one with a heart pure
For my heart was burned, more than a time or two

A wall I *****, for my safety it must not fall!
Strong and sturdy I build, firmly planted in the ground
The vilest of creatures it must hold back

Near my gate you come, not expecting this village houses one
With eyes you look in, but the curtain is drawn and you see not deep within
Lest you see my weakness and with that attack

My arms I extend: Don’t get too close, stay beyond the end!
My palms I hold out, you must know that I’m afraid
Those who came before stabbed me in the side, and because of this now I hide

A friend I have not found, perhaps to trust I am now unable
For my trust was betrayed, more than a time or two
From my book, "Aimless Wanderer"
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1544626347
logan de nacht Nov 2014
avoid whate
ver there is, then
panic, for these
days are lengthy.

— The End —