Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Amanda Kay Burke Jun 2018
Used to tell me you loved me
Used to talk to me every day
But last time we talked you couldn't
Recall the date of my birthday

I remember I could call you
Each time I needed to vent
Now I don't know what to say and I
Worry I will sound incompetent

Used to hate being away from me
Used to have all of your heart
But you decided you would rather be
Alone so we were forced to part.

I remember you looked at me
I could read how you felt in your eyes
But now you are sraring at me like
I am someone you don't recognize

You lit my world for an instant
Burned out like a shooting star
You used to be my best friend, my other half
Now I don't even know who you are
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
-Goyte
Louisa Coller Jun 2018
Ringing
Singing
Clinging
Swinging
Hear the phone is ringing, singing beeps
While clinging the phone, swinging your legs
My family has a lot of reasons to call the doctors, my Mother suffers with COPD, my Father himself isn’t the perfect image of health when it comes to getting sick and injuries. My younger Brother being disabled physically and mentally, my older Brother also having his fair share of injections.

I myself, am not much of an exception.

When you arrive into adulthood you realise how much you have to take into responsibility with your health, physical or mental. I knew something wasn’t right and I called up and we chatted and soon I’m going to try and get more help with my mental health as well as try my best to work out a way to control my weight.

When you’ve neglected a lot of yourself for a long time, you tend to have really negative emotions appear in your thoughts. You think is there really a point in changing now? Am I too late? When in reality, no, it’s not. When you are dead – It’s too late.
egghead May 2018
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
Inspired by the Vanity Fair article of André Aciman's reaction to his book *Call Me By Your Name* being made into a movie. Specifically the quote, "I couldn't write silence."
Amanda Kay Burke May 2018
I wish we lived closer
Talked more than we do
It is hard to find time
To call and speak with you

I am always pleased to hear your voice
It's not the words but the sound I enjoy
A symphony of unconditional love
Echoing comfort and joy

Our calls might be infrequent
Special for that reason
If you need a friend
I will answer any season

Whether you are angry or sad
I will listen with my open heart
I am only a phone call away
If we are near or far apart
For my big brother Michael.
Amanda Kay Burke May 2018
Broken is lying awake all night
Asking how love so strong could die
Unable to force eyelids closed to sleep
Or do anything except cry

It is counting reasons on your hand
Sharing secrets with your cup of coffee or tea
Searching for his face everywhere you go
Even places you know he won't be

It is waiting for a call that never comes
The one where he begs for you back
Staring at your reflection
Wishing for the beauty you lack

It is holding his old T-shirt tight
Sitting on hard bathroom tile
You know you will never be the same without him
Broken is thinking nothing can ever again make you smile
When you have finally given up. Written 4/14/13
E McNamara May 2018
When I sliced that tender flesh
Bleeding still, so ever fresh

It was not that I tried to die
But because I wanted to feel alive

So save me from this aching death
One of hatred and harsh breath

Suffering on the inside
My bleeding heart, now bleeding thighs

My throat choked and wailed
As my sadness was veiled

So help them, and help us all
Whose ripped skin is a pleading call
I know I'm sharing a lot of depressing poems lately. Do not be concerned. These are all my old poems from when I was depressed or I'm writing from past experiences. I just recently have gotten the courage to share them. Love you all :)
Daemon Delano Apr 2018
Let the light find you,
and the dark find me.
Opposite stars,
in the skies we see.
Come to my call,
and fall with me.
Faith is unworthy,
and worthy are we.
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2018
VERSE 1:
Pick the glass up off the table
I take another drink
There is an empty bottle of whiskey
Sitting in the sink

I do not know why the alcohol
Will not keep you off my mind
It seems it has always worked
Every other nightly time

Memories are too strong
And I cannot be alone
I stumble until I find
The nearest lonely telephone

CHORUS:
Call you up drunk
Get the message machine
Say I love you and I just wanna know
Do you somehow still love me?

VERSE 2:
I am from a dusty small town
And so tired of the ways
Locals cover up their hurt
With the command each obeys

We shine like stars in the world's sky
Swim in a substance-filled sea
Fill our stupid souls with *****
Til full and still are empty

CHORUS

What else will numb the pain
When the pain and sorrows won't pass?
We are all just chasing our problems
To the bottom of a glass
An old song I wrote, to the chords Am C F Em for the verses and C F C F C for the chorus.
Heidi Franke Apr 2018
I Accept The Call

Collect call from Salt Lake County jail
If you accept,
Press 7.
Seven is a lucky number.
Not feeling lucky today
He is in jail again
For violation
Of Mental Health Court.
I accept the call.

Jail for mothers of sons
In jail, I imagine being like
Steel wombs, without the mother.

There are no pillows
No pleasant toiletries
No longer do I worry about
How long the refrigerator door
Has been open while he looks for
"Something to eat" in his bag of commissary.

There is no mama's kitchen.
No sofa to pine on.
Your laments only echoing
off cement.
What is your excuse this time
For violating the rules
At your new mothers home
You must know by now
There are no soft goodnight words
Just the stained metal
Slamming closed

May you keep your sanity
While doing your time
And remember the words
Radical acceptance
Practice balancing your
Emotional, rational
and wise mind
Maintain focus and resolve
To never, never, never give up.
I'll take that call now
I accept.
Next page