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i write and write and still no surprise,
no likes, no comment, no subscribe,
arent my poems worthy enough,
i ask myself every time ,
or is it something in my speech ,
thats keeping away the prize.
i started with enthusiasm, you know,
but now that i see it,
all my work here is a still no show,
i cannot impose but just a request,
what will it take for you people to comment your best?
this poem might be my last on this platform you never know,
without support, without demand i just dont get the reason,
why i should post?
try i insist  and i will send my thanks to all those who will,
show what you care, because i know you guys wont leave me spare.
these are the thoughts i have been getting after posting so many poems and just 4 followers! please check out my work and follow me,,i really need motivation to write pleasee!
Lately we drink
And then we talk,
And it’s perfect
Because I’ve missed
These conversations with you.

Lately we drink
And then we talk,
And then I get caught in my
Feelings because I don’t
Think I’m enough for you.

Lately we smoke
And I fall asleep,
And when I wake to
Your back to me, I pray
You didn’t fall asleep lonely.

Lately we smoke
And you fall asleep,
So I smoke some more
Because there’s a sadness
Brewing that I can’t explain.

Lately we ****
Instead of make love,
And it feels so good,
But I crave the raw love
You showed me the first time.

Lately we ****
Instead of make love,
And you moan in your dreams.
I stay awake at night
Hoping you’re dreaming of me.

Lately I think
And get stuck in my head;
Dangerous terrain.
My emotions flip and
Play tricks on my brain.

Lately I think
And get stuck in my head,
And allow my insecurity
To become reality,
Instead of using rationality,

And I’m so sorry.
Shadow talk about
Z  o  n  i  n  g out
Like I’m not haunted
By its icy ghosts.

Fingers hold my eyes open
To memories of the last time,
Ones I’d hoped to
Never feel again.

I remember that my heart
Imploded, and my bones
Crumpled under the pressure
Of guilt, or pain, or shame.

My skin peeled back to
Reveal bleeding muscle and
Torn heart strings, still
Trying to play a happy song.

My eyes turned broken
Faucets the night he left
And I was so sure
He would never come home to me.

I stayed awake as long as
The lights stayed on,
And fell asleep trying to
Convince myself he still loved me.
Amira Mar 28
They say the truth gives closure,
when spilt, we loose our composure.

They say the truth either heals
or wheels sanity away.

The truth,
a perception or a belief?
Alex Mars Mar 4
so, my poems are in no way actually good. I know that. But, if you have any interest in brutally honest metaphors, please follow me or just like something or leave a comment. They make me happy so please just leave something to let me know that I should even keep writing. Just leave a smile in the comments on a poem or on a poem you even remotely tolerated. That would help me I think. So, you by no means have to, you can just ignore this if you want to. But it would mean so much to me. Also, if you have any advise I'm always open to notes.
Ok, going back to writing ****** poems
Hang me
Like a Dali painting.
Oil on canvas,
Blood on skin.
No one understands me
Anyway.

Drape me
Like foreign fabric.
Silk on bedsheets,
Clothing to vessel.
No one feels my softness
Anyway.

Fold me
Like intricate origami.
Paper to paper,
Chest to chest.
No one feels the heartbeat
Anyway.
I am hard again.
There is concrete and it traps me.
There is a numbness and I can feel it.

I am not well, in dream state;
Unconscious and heavy
With guilt.

I am changing,
    And it is chaos.
I am changing,
     And it is destruction.

I’m soft again.
There is a river and it fills me.
There is feeling again, and how I feel it.

I’m awake and alive,
Full and bursting
With love.

I am changing,
     And it hurts.
I am changing,
     And I love it.
My own take on an Instagram poets’ piece.
All I want is to grow.
My heart aches for it,
My bones scream.
In the dark silence
That sits inside and listens,
A lilac endlessly grows,
Withers,
Dies.

Its petals float to sea
And carried away by the wind.
They’re brought back to me
In forms of seashells,
Cracked and crooked.
I piece them together like
A riddle on my tongue.
All I want is to create,
And destroy,
And rebuild.
AADI Dec 2019
we
I'm july he's may we met in December ....
what's yours ??
gia sanchez Dec 2019
The only thing that makes me happy is my family.
We may argue everyday but when i'm hurt their my remedy.
They always have my back
especially when i tend to lack.
I might not have the best relationships with them
but i treat each one of them like a gem.
so special and unique in their own ways
and they all glow on cloudy days.
My family is my breath of fresh air
when i need a little guidance, i know that they will always be there.
just a little something i just came up with. i hope you like it.
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