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Payton Feb 24
You were a drug to me, babe.
      You weren't the medicinal kind either.
                                          You weren't just a painkiller.
You weren't an antidepressant.
                                                     You weren't a Xanax.
                                                        You weren't ******.
You weren't even the good kind of drug.

                    You weren't ****** or **** or ecstasy.
You were the kind of drug that
                                           messed around with my heart and left my brain feeling clouded.
You were the kind of drug that left me confused and
                                                                               feeling worse than before I took you.
But I did.
Again and
again.
I told myself I would
break this vicious cycle of unscrewing your cap and
                                                                   hating myself for it afterwards.
That I wouldn't draw back the plunger and
                                                          force you into my veins anymore.
But I didn't.
Again and
again.

I told myself you
                                                would be the death of me.

Every high you gave me left me feeling
                                                                          lost in the clouds.

I might as well have been
                                    six feet deep.
This poem was written in 2016.
Talia Dec 2020
grey misty haze
why pray for better days?
silver hues
lick moist air
in the beautiful world we share
puddles painted on the floor
revealing your unfocused stare
grey misty haze
tickling noses blue
should be enough
for you
why do people not appreciate grey days? do these days not accentuate the vibrancy of the rest, whilst being intriguing and softly beautiful in their own right?
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2020
My joints ache inside my body

Heart is pounding like a hammer in my chest

Veins are itching with emptiness

It is lonely without the company of chemicals to converse with my cloudy thoughts

Come home
Need you now more than ever

I am waiting for you to make me feel alright
Written 1-20-20
Ariana Solo Nov 2020
Daydreaming at night is a paradox of a strange usualness

My antemeridian thoughts left me in a state of pure dire

Yet the patronage of the serene cloudy sky removed all desire

To surrender forever, instead I'll ascertain to progress

πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™β›…
Dear Cloudy (Cloudydaze)
Dear Sky (Skylar Russo)

You've been the best support a poet could ask for.
Thank you πŸ’™ β›…

β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™

Paradox - contradictory

Antemeridian - before noon (a. m)

Patronage - support

Ascertain - learn

β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™β›…πŸ’™
Julia Nov 2020
Even on cloudy days, she is beautiful.
Full of life and color
Always moving forward,
Never letting anything get in her way.
She is more beautiful on the bad days.
When the sky is dark and looming,
She can still bring light and life.
She can make you feel safe.
With her songs in the trees, in the water, and in the wind that brushes against your cheeks

She is beautiful.
She looked outside
where it was
gray and dreary
cloudy and
about to rain
what a fitting day
for a girl
who was lost
in her own storm
and couldn't find her way
Norman Crane Oct 2020
converging clouds create
a celestial ceiling
a disappearing of the sun's rays
an ominous feeling of the revealing
of the truth:
the world's been packed
into an intergalactic burlap sack,
takenβ€”
and we are not coming back
world-nappedβ€”
never to be awakened.
kiss us, but
the prince is not handsome,
we are alone, so
no one will pay our ransom.
Donna Jun 2020
Even when skies are
grey you can still hear nature’s
sweet birds sing there song
** loving nature **
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