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I still
don't get it.
It hasn't fixed yet in
my head.
He's not coming back
this time.
He's really
dead.
I still can't process it inside.
Matthew 5d
The word t
                  u mbling fro
                                      m my mouth.
A Bold Statement
They stop...
A blood red lie, I kept in my pocket
Their body turning towards the fresh noise
Revealing, laughter
Their expression a stern nod of disapproval,
and a shove aside
I am now a clown,
a mockery
I repeated
those stale claims made in contempt

My tears
Sweet chocolate

Their laughter
joined by mine
The words being
I am ***



This poem is about how I was always called "***" because of my mannerisms and uninterest in women.  When I came out, it was a joke because I always denied it was "the secret I kept in my pocket".  Even though they don't accept me, it doesn't matter.  All their power is taken when you laugh with them.
Our wedding picture on the wall but It seems like yesterday when we stood and said our wedding vowels

Remember so well the words of the registrar
who said look after her she a good one

but I already knew that oh so lucky beautiful sunny day we held the reception In our back garden so clearly remember everybody was so happy and my wife so proud I was

So pretty she was on her wedding day now she was my wife kept checking my finger making shaw that my wedding ring was still there

Frightened to death of losing It, but twenty years ago when I married her so happy but no Idea I would lose her so soon In
life

And life can be cruel but often ask myself the question If I could have seen around the
corner

could have made so much more of the time
I had with her, Interesting through to which there Is no answer or at least  I don't think
so
Interesting theory If I'd seen what was coming could have made so much more of my time with her
PS 7d
And it’s only in those silent moments I feel sad.
I spend my days keeping busy,
I tell them all I am actually doing surprisingly well.
Because I actually feel like I am, it’s not just something I’m saying to say.

I grieved.
You were gone for, like, three days before you appeared to tell me it’s over.
So it felt as if you’d already done it.
Like a missing person’s body finally being found,
Like a crash towards the inevitable, that wave of just knowing.

He is never coming back.

But in the daylight I’m okay.
No one has to know my feelings on the subject,
You don’t even exist to them.  
It’s only when I’m in bed and the music stops that I realise the gaping hole in my world.

The faces of men I turned down for you,
The things I would’ve said, the plans I could’ve made,
How close I was to finally feeling safe.

But like every man before you,
And probably many more to come,
Safety is never an option.
Security is someone you call to get people out.
Home is a place where I build the walls, I decide who gets the password to come inside.

But I don’t want an audience anymore.

No one gets to see me.
Why should I let anyone see behind the mask of the Great and Powerful Oz?
What do I get in return?
No home, no heart, no courage for finally speaking up, no.
Just a slap in the face that feels like ice water.

So I sit here in silence, avoiding what has to be done and I cry and I cry until nothing comes out but a squeak.
This weak creature finally speaks:
‘You used to make me melt but now I’m melting.’

Oh, what a world,
What a world.
I have no idea why the Wizard of Oz became something of a prism to speak through, but it happened.
Masin Feb 2
I think of you
The day is fresh
Little pockets in this new day
Got me hoping and praying
That you are always safe
Cause I know how fast you like to go
When your running late
In your tiny Scion
Everyday I pray and I hope
I don't know why I do
It's been that way since...

I met you.
2013
Em MacKenzie Jan 29
I savour the coffee taste on your tongue and on your lips,
it’s reminiscent of my throat when a word slips, or when each pill drips.
The less and less I sleep,
the more secrets I keep,
whisked away in stolen conversation
but all the thoughts; lost in translation.
Squeeze the trigger, pull the plug,
I now figure you’re just another drug,
I won’t get clean; this time I’ll overdose,
I couldn’t hope to wean when you’re still this close.

So turn up the boiling scalding water,
you know that it’s time to come clean.
Submerge yourself or don’t even bother,
appearance doesn’t matter when you’re never seen.

I was worried I’d be trapped on a different side,
resulting from the bleaching of the darkness that I tried to hide,
covered in a soft pastel portrait of a stranger,
who balanced pleasure and pain with no thoughts of danger.
I admit I’ve written letters before
as a safety net,
at the time it meant more,but you’re still upset.
“I’m cautious while being reckless,
always nauseous but please respect this,
I’ve been done for years,
and now it’s gotten too trite,
my lip quivers from the tears,
where once I just used to bite.”

So get out all of the soaps and the oils,
you know that it’s time to come clean.
Replenish the lukewarm with water that boils,
and continuing scrubbing and lathering inbetween.

They all ask the five W’s and one H,
and expect a definition on abrupt command.
In my bath the purity saturates,
I only find bubbles and water spill from my hand.

It’s hard to describe in written word
the completion that was suddenly felt,
it was my first sight and first sound heard;
a power that could make the galaxies melt.
She threw a blanket statement over me,
but it failed to cover me up whole.
In the corner of her eye all I’ll ever be,
is frozen feet walking out of control.

So let yourself soak until you dissolve,
you know that it’s time to come clean.
It’s within the water we’re bound to evolve,
and if all fails we’ll glisten and gleam.
Naoki B Jan 25
I'm unsure of what to say to you
When I visit you
You ask what I'm up to
Nothing, you're dying
I visit you again
You'd ask again
Nothing, you're dying
And it grows in stages
I'd leave and come back
You'd ask me every time
But it's nothing because you're dying
And I can't take it I just can't
I just don't know what to say
It's nothing, you're gonna die
And we just have to act like it's okay
baskerville Jan 20
can you do me a favor?
can you do something for me, in hope that one day i might do something for you in return?
what i need you to do shouldn't be difficult, though some part of me hopes it will be.
i would do it myself if i could.
i need you to stop loving me.
because i can't love you.
i am much happier in comparison
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