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I don't have long
Trying to win your love
She wants you more
You want me to my core
I know you do
A triangle of mess
The passion in your pools
Make me a fool
A smile that could be wicked
It tears my calmness to shreds
When I see the glint in your eye
The hint in the arch of your brow
Needing those full lips on mine
And they will belong to me
Please give them to me
I am your Aphrodite
I love him
It's what I crave,
The thing I desire,
But I'm not that brave,
So I just admire,

Admire the one,
For whom I do live,
Without whom I'm none,
There's not much to give,

So what if I ain't,
That guy that she likes,
Should I just faint,
Or give it more tries?

Can't I be loved by any other,
Is that task just way too much,
I never wanted to be a bother,
But if I am but seen as such,

Should I give up after all,
Just be... me myself and I,
Won't I really make one fall,
For who I am.... Wait who am I?
Aphrodite Jun 23
I feel out of reach
Of the things you want to teach
My desperation shows on my face
That you are not in my place
I want your power over me
So blind that I cannot see
I won't notice the error of my way
Please let me be your desperation today
Give me some sign I'm yours
Write me into your stories of lore
Make me your main character too
The one who triumphs over you
I will steal whatever you want me to
Hire me, instruct me what to do
I'm reaching for your hand
Just tell me where to land
The desperation of living
BloodOfSaints Jun 22
I wasn’t there
when you spilled your pain like holy wine,
offering yourself to silence,
but the silence did not take you.

You did not fall-
not into the dark abyss,
but back into light,
a reluctant resurrection.
Jeremy Betts Jun 7
I sip on a drink
My demise firmly in hand
Desperate to not think
But my demons stay on-brand

©2025
I open my ribs.  
peeling back the sinews and  
capillaries with precision.  
The crack of spreading bones,  
my chambered apparatus laid  
delicately on the table.  
  
My implement extracts its pound
onto the slab with intention,  
pulled and pressed till it's paper  
thin and bled out. Soulspeak scrawled  
in the crackling veins of my parchment.  
  
I put my machinations on display  
for onlookers, merchants  
and collectors  
but none seem to gather any interest.  
Skinpull another page  
but nothing sells  
or charms or foments.  

I pack my wares and  
toss them onto the pile of  
my dried out corpse scattered  
on the floor.  
Failure.  
Another procedure.  
Relent, repeat, cut deeper.  
And hope to find a reader.
Was it love or desperation?
I can't remember the distinction.  

When you're starved
each crumb feels like grace.

Each small affection
a fervent offering
to a broken beggar.  

But at this point,  
I'll take what little
I can get.
James Rives May 31
I'm sick and ******* tired
of scraping my pride
down to the bone,
asking for helping,
and hearing nothing.
my life has fallen apart
in three months
after years of beating back
against my tears and indecision.
those that want to, can't.
those that can don't want to.
the fire in my throat isn't half
as searing as the hatred i feel
for the South African tech genius,
searching for waste,
and the ones that failed us.
i carry this molten stress in me,
and i want the worst to happen
to those living their lives everyday
without worry about rent
or food or their car's
impending repossession.


this isn't even a poem anymore,
it's a cry for help.
My life has fallen apart and if one more stranger ignores me or a loved one promises it'll be okay while I starve and barely stay housed, I will keep losing my mind. I have headaches every day and want to rip my own skin off
Kalliope May 26
I've watered this garden for ages
Yet nothing ever grows
I've consulted botanical mages
They haven't the time for my trivial woes

I've pruned with bloodied fingertips-
Soil so stubborn, refusing to shift
I've given every pamphlet a flip
Still no signs of a horticultural gift
At the very bottom seam
of my very favorite watering can
is a rusted hole
akshitha May 24
i like sitting in the corners of the house, quiet but lonely
where a house is not a home-
it is fascinating to me,
reading every corner of humans mind,
staring into the void,
you lost the touch, but still can see,
hyperaware of what you're missing on,
trying to fit in, but not in corners.
such corners, brings in solitude,
takes away the connection you need.
choosing to isolate while
the ultimate desperation of connection,
binds your soul into threads.
when the soul's purpose is to find a connection, within or outside,
is this being human enough or a human who ran out of desperation?
yet, living with hope in disguise.
a hope to fit in, but not in corners.
-akshitha
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