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I long to hear
you echo
the words,
I love you.
The silence remains
unbroken…
Lil Moon Moon Jan 18
I write you poems in my head,
Hundreds thousands of them taking up space like the dead.

Some are sloppy with narry a rhyme,
Some are perfectly prosed and pieced in time.

Someday you will hear them,
Falling like prayers from my lips.

And when the day comes I hope you don't mind.
I hope you don't mind.

I write you poems in my head
Someday the stars will read them to you in my stead

And when the days comes that you hear
of my secret oaths to you my dear

Please bear in my mind
I needed no echo
... I only wanted you to know.
My Dear Poet Nov 2021
an echo
could not recognise
it’s own voice
it got stuck
in a canyon
between
reason and choice
screaming
all the more louder
it threw out a rhyme
no one dared to respond
or cared to reply
for none heard such a poem
nor the voice
that was mine
Psychorange Nov 2021
my life is a song I can recognize only by rhythm and tone
these Auburn memories
short and sweet
and Out of place

echoes through my mind and embraces my heart

Out of place to the reality of space, time and gravity.
The concerned. The fear.
Yet I hum along... to whatever I can hum to
hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum hum
selina Nov 2021
here is something that is easy to forget
yet somehow so difficult
to find and recognize

the lights of the brightest stars you've met
are sometimes mere residuals
of unsaid goodbyes
s y kalindara Nov 2021
I am not my father's daughter;
though I have his walnut eyes and raven hair,
I don't leave my fury's aftershocks behind
to ricochet off my bloodline,
and the cracks on my walls were born from cheap paint,
not the turbulence of my fists against skin,
slamming doors and the echoes of my sins.



Copyright © 2021 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
I wish my father wasn't so angry.


(p.s. follow me on instagram, if you'd like to @sykmusings ♡)
selina Jul 2021
i will keep skipping stones in the dark until
my feet grow wet and my ears become filled
with the pitter-patters echoing across the pond

will these whispers reach your daffodils that sway so far away?
will your flowers feel the warmth that i offer to the breeze?
will the winds lay mercy on the hope that i hold so close?

so for selfish reasons, i ask you to look away, narcissus:
your love for that reflection has already dug you
a grave deep enough to smother apollo's sun

and i, painted forever as foolish, naive echo—
and i, who have already lost my voice and home—
my love, i cannot bear to lose you, too
hear me out if echo just wrote a letter to narcissus i think that might've solved some problems
Leave me an echo
Your spirit etched in fire
Crystalline ashes.
Haiku 6
clmathew Jul 2021
~She said "Hello?" and only the echoes returned her greeting.
—Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea

Only the echoes answer back
written March 24th, 2020

She cries out to the depths
   opening her heart
   saying the unsaid things
   screaming in her muteness
   sighing her pain
   cradling her isolation
   begging for answers
   calling for connection
   giving voice to the wanting
And only the echoes answer back.
StormriderIX Jun 2021
Silence echoes.
It reaches
       for you,
that sound of silence.
Let it reach.
             Let it echo.
                       Let me wonder.
What does silence
              sound
                       like?
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