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Heavy Hearted Jun 2023
Summon up the courage
keeping up the cover
A Minefield of memory,
I see you uncover
Irrationality implosion -
Energetically, explosion.

Do you really think,
in our realities
that a happiness
love,  might continue?

When emotions are temporary
& feelings too fleeting  
Listen
when I announce my selfishness.
Listen,
as I manipulate.
Better run, better run on home

You got the crush all wrong
Jeett Ratadia Jun 2023
If failure collected on me,
like dew drops on waxy leaves
they would only see beauty
and declare me nature's masterpiece

If failure collected on me,
like dew drops on waxy leaves,
it would slide off in style, slowly
and maybe, I would be at peace
Austin Morrison Jun 2023
In the depths of silence, where shadows reside,
A heavy heart, burdened, cannot hide.
Unseen, unnoticed, like a ghostly wraith,
I wander through existence, lost in a desolate faith.

In a crowded room, I fade to gray,
Whispers and laughter, they all drift away.
An outsider peering through misty eyes,
Yearning for connection, but met with empty skies.

Words unspoken, like echoes unheard,
Emotions trapped, stifled, never stirred.
My voice, a mere whisper in the wind,
Aching to be heard, to matter, to rescind.

The world moves on, an unforgiving tide,
Leaving me stranded, unwanted, denied.
Invisible threads bind me, a lonely refrain,
Longing for affection, like a wilted flower in the rain.

I seek solace in dreams, a sanctuary of the mind,
Where I am cherished, accepted, intertwined.
But awakening brings me back to the bitter truth,
That I am but a shadow, lost in the uncaring sleuth.

Yet amidst the darkness, a flicker remains,
A glimmer of hope, a spark that sustains.
For within this void, a strength starts to ignite,
Embracing my worth, pushing through the night.

Though I may feel ignored, unwanted, unseen,
I'll rise above the shadows, where dreams intervene.
For in this vast universe, I'll find my own way,
To shine brightly, even if skies remain gray.
C E Ford Jun 2023
The apartment is messy again.
A never-ending pile of clean underwear,
stained laundry,
and in-between pieces
toeing the line
between passable and gross.

it's not that it's bad,
it's fine.
it's enough to get by.
like wheat-based cereal
and watery coffee.

I guess this is our life together
jumbled and messy,
with piles of good intentions
and tomorrow projects
but that never quite find
their way
into a proper time
or place.

I look out the open window
for an answer,
a sign,
some kind of assurance
that this time is different
and this place is where
I'm finally supposed to be.

But all I see is grey.
No thunderclaps
or burst of lightening
or enlightenment
come to me.

You blow out
the lit candle
on the coffee table,
its smoke
curling itself
into question marks
that dissipate
as quickly as the rain.

Maybe tomorrow
will hold more answers
or more sunlight
I can use to see
our path forward.

But for now,
we'll go to bed
in crinkled sheets
and warm promises
for the day yet to come.
What do you do when you're in-between a warm and an open space? An adequate embrace of familiarity and the longing that things will get better?
What do you do with the realization that you're nostalgic for a version of your love you've never felt with your hands?

You write it in a poem. And hope the rest works itself out tomorrow.
arsonpoet May 2023
i am terrible at explaining this feeling. the feeling of not being enough. The feeling of sacrificing life's gold to obtain silver. they say human relationships are pure but what's pure in exchanges which only speak of dreams and desires? what's so pure in exchanges of commodities between souls when the essence of love evaporates in the potency of moonsoon. i think i have done enough for everyone. the emptiness in me is nothing but an anthem of loss of meaning in the miniscule negotiations of life's key moments. and the only way to escape losing my essence is to stop injuring myself and healing the same scars. all over again.
an observation into the innocuous piety of my life.
Kris Fireheart Aug 2023
It's always the
Little things
That set you off.
They make you angry,
They leave me hanging;

It's always the
Little things
That make me think;
They twist my
Mind,
Both yours and
Mine

And take us
To the brink.

It's always the
Little things
That stop
And make us
Think.
It's always the little things, that bring us joy, passion, emotion and pain.
Atticus Dec 2022
Mexican food from that joint near your dads
The pooling spotty blood on my bitten lips
My mothers words
My fathers driving

Sadness is
The look she gave me when I told her what he did to me
The burn marks on my hips
Fogged up glasses
Cheap *****
Smoking a cigarette all the way down to the end  

Joy is
His laugh
The way the baby hair on my arms stand up when it’s cold and I feel alive
Italian food made together
Olive jars
Macs soft ears
There's
Someone
Or something
I'm
Missing
If I knew
Who
Or what
It was
I would not
Feel this
Void
But
I
Think
It's
You
Wish I knew
Miss you. Thats all.
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2023
I dreamt I still knew myself the moment you turned your face to me

you were about to enter a very personal space: a diary, a dream journal, a shoebox of love letters, a suicide note, the angry ramblings of a madman

Standing on the bridge where we're no longer suffering, the dream exhaled

and joy found eternity running over the closing frame, floating away in every direction where time intervenes
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