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Lalit Kumar Mar 25
I walked through the quiet hush of dusk,
where echoes of dreams in shadows lay.
Soft whispers clung to the evening breeze,
calling me back to yesterday.

A lantern flickered deep in my chest,
its flame unsure, yet burning bright.
Through shattered paths and weary steps,
it carved its way into the night.

I gathered moments, thread by thread,
stitched them into skybound wings.
Though time may steal, and fate may fade,
some dreams still hum—some echoes sing.
Jhamarie Mar 22
I chased the butterflies your actions spun
Only to learn they were a phase undone
My subtle words a love I longed to share
Met with a silence a feeling beyond repair

A single word and I'd have crossed the waves
And build a world that I long to dream
But deeper knowing brings a deeper fall
Your crave for silence to escape it all

I wished you knew this hope so frail and slight
Longed for your words to make it truly bright
To bury moments and release your hold
And if I asked, what story would be told?
I dedicate this poem to my long-unrequited love. I hope you know how I feel, and if I ask, please don't . . .
I knew it!
I knew it wasn't real,
I knew the echoes of this place,
Were just misleading hooks in my face.
Look at all these people, real,
I swear they aren't simple clones,
Or were they all along?
Leave it in the past
Blackened
In shadows deep, where silence reigns, A journey marked by unseen chains.
Through corridors of night we tread, Seeking solace in the dread.
The echoes linger, cold and stark, In every heart, a lasting mark. To depths unknown, we cast our gaze, In twilight's grip, we lose our ways.
Enticed by voids, we break the ties, In newfound space, where darkness lies.
With every step, a story traced, In haste we move, yet time erased.
Caio Gomes Mar 6
Thrown into a space,
dark, frivolous, and suffocating,
sealed, with air
stale and unrenewable.

With every second that passes,
the feeling of exhaustion
pulses and oppresses,
with contractions of despair.

I despair. In a burst of energy,
I hurl myself against some exit,
invisible, intangible.

Waves and sharp surges
of despair overwhelm me,
flooding my soul—
restless and energetic,
tired and drained.

I seek, restless, to find
some way out of this place.

But stone walls
only echo my scream.

The futility of my attempts
corrodes my hope,
but a tiny crevice
opens in one of the walls,
pierced by the light.

It rekindles what remains,
killing despair -
partially.
When He was born,
He cried into the void of space,
Searching for the comforting voice of calm.

But only silence returns His call,
His tears echoing of the dark edges of the dark.

But He taught Himself to walk,
How to shape something with His own hands,
Then He made a world to answer back.
Fill this in with whatever person or pronoun you need to really feel it.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
Time drips slow like falling rain,
upon a heart weighed down with pain.
A thousand thoughts fill up my mind,
but no place left for peace to find.

By the sea, the wind still calls,
whispering stories through hollow halls.
Beneath the moon, beneath the sky,
I watch the stars and wonder why.

My soul is torn, yet still I smile,
walking cold and lost for miles.
The sun once warm, now barely light,
shadows stretch into the night.

I hold my breath, I close my eyes,
feel the fire where silence lies.
A single dream, a fleeting touch,
a whispered hope, but never much.

My hands still shake, my lips still burn,
for memories that won’t return.
The truth is heavy, life is loud,
the past is just a drifting cloud.

Yet in the dark, I still believe,
that something waits, beyond the grieve.
For even lost, we still remain—
a whisper carved into the rain.
Looking over the canyon,
Grand and conniving,
A grim smile across the broken earth.

My voices echoes from it's bounds,
Without the faithful demeanor from which it came.
It calls back to me in the gambit of hatred,
'Shall you let evil rise again, or will you ***** your hand to end it.'
One who is made in the canyon's image may never begone of it's scar.
Asher Feb 14
Once a hand held me,  
now I rust in silent dirt,  
spikes dulled by lost wars.
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