Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
XX 1d
loving you wasn't an innocent kind of love,
it was guilty and achy in a way that felt so good i couldn't even talk about it.
and when we finally decided it was time,
i lost my best friend.
i felt you forget me every evening before we became strangers
and i still wake up in tears in the middle of the night because in a dream, i remembered what it felt like when you held me

eventually, you become numb to the pain that is no longer constant
the feeling of nostalgia becomes muted by the louder sounds of life:
like the ringing alarm clock reminding you that there still got a job to show up to,
like the radio announcer's voice telling you that we're expecting clear skies.
there are moments throughout the day when you forget to think about them, forget to stare at old pictures, forget to cry in bathroom at work
there are milestones that will take place and they won't show up;
like your graduation, or your brother's wedding.
and you almost don't notice their absence.

you think you won't be able to go on without them,
but you do.
you find there are new songs stuck in your head, even if you never forget the lyrics to your old favourite one.
you learn to let go in small parts -
you hear his name and your body doesn't flinch,
you walk past the liquor aisle without thinking to pick up his favourite brand of whiskey.

and one day, without even realizing,
you notice how straight you stand without the weight of their world pushing down on your shoulders.
I gave you everything not knowing what I was getting myself into. I feel unwanted, used, destroyed. I feel...empty. Being unable to continue and progress in my life has been the worst punishment I've ever experienced, but you...you're able to act like nothing has happened and walk around with a smile on your face. I remember smiling...laughing, feeling happy. I ask, what did I do deserve to be treated this way? what did I do to hurt you? what did I do to make you hate me?
It is I to blame
For the broken friendships
Broken relationships
For the distant stares
And hesitant smiles
As we pass by
           each other
As if we are merely
--acquaintances, merely strangers
Who haven't
Shared secrets
           over a bottle of beer
Or cried in the corner
           sitting in the pavement
           over our insecurities
Or laughed on how silly we can be
           arguing over who will refill
           the tumbler of water
Or watched a horror movie
           but ended up laughing
           on how dumb the characters are
Or gushed over a book
           we both read
           as we dream of our own
           happily ever after
Or supported each other
           as we broke down
           over the families
           who never cared for us
           who we never really had
           until we meet each other
Or the guys who crushed our hearts
           as we made fun of their
           pictures with their new ones

The fault is solely mine.
It's never yours,

I'm the one one who severed the tie
'Cause I'm too ****** up that
I felt like
You don't need a broken soul;
You don't need
To burden yourselves
With someone
Who keep coming back
to the dark

Someone who lost the spark
in her eyes;
Who finds comfort
in emptiness;
Who clings to her demons
just to remember she's still alive;
Who prefers nothingness
to envelope her in eternal embrace;

Blame me
It's me, the fault is mine
Not knowing that we are broken souls in the first place
And we found each other for we complete each other

Blame me
It's solely me
Forgetting that we are all ****** up in the first place
But we are **** ups who understand and support each other

Blame me
It's not you
Not remembering that we all came from the dark
And we are there to pull each other back into the light

Blame me
It's not your fault
Not realizing that we all feel hollow and empty and nothing
But we are there to fill the gaps and spaces left in each other's

Now, I'm left
With the occasional '*** bless'
'Good lucks' and 'Wish you all the bests'
Every birthday;
With the fading photographs
as our very own frame collapse
Because of
With the jar where the remaining yesterdays of ours
Are stored and secured
And only ashes of once strong relationship laid still;
In that big card that no matter how hard
I tried to keep it safe with a cover
Placed it under my clothes inside my drawer
Still, it worn out
Like how you tried to keep me
But I'm just too attracted
to being broken
That we just 'worn out'

So blame it all on me

It'll be heart-wrenching
for you to forget me
But I'll understand
I'll be fine
At least, I know I'll try to be
After all,
it's my fault

I just wish
YOU all the best
And sometime in the future,
can we please
smile at each other
A genuine smile
will be more than enough
for me to remember
that I've once had
Sisters from another misters
It'll be more than enough
You all are more than enough.
To my friends, JKTS, I miss you all guys. I'm just sorry I'm like this but know that I'm really really really grateful that you've once been part of my life.
love make things disappear,

-things like what?

things like love
cupid 5d
this morning the cold rain
the monotonous drizzle
like a heavy mist fell upon me and wet my clothes
as i ran to my bus stop the cool air burned my throat and lungs
it’s cleansing
the little pains
the cooling of my breath and collapse of my mind
i felt an odd happiness running through the rain
it was empty
but positive
what i suppose bliss feels like
a manipulative salvation
this is from awhile ago it's true though
I don’t know who I am.
Sometimes I feel like I’m not even real.
Not dead, just a little lost.
But very much alive.
Maybe, too alive.
Always thinking
I think until I self destruct
I think until I destroy every bit of reality
Breathing, living, existing.
All for nothing.
But it doesn’t hurt anymore.
I’ve come to accept insignificance.
Processed that there is no true meaning.
Nothing has a meaning.
If there’s no meaning, I can’t truly ruin everything.
With no meaning, comes emptiness but a little peace too.
Maybe I will find contentment in my absolute, utter uselessness.
Maybe, being nothing is okay.
Just some thoughts in my head
Nobody's home,
In this heart of mine.
Nobody lives,
In the thoughts of mind.

Desolation can be a contended life,
The emptiness of loneliness is kind.
rozina Nov 5
Nothing to see, nothing to do,
nothing to look forward to.

Observing others living life to their fullest,
and feeling as though you're the dullest.
The things you used to enjoy
slowly become a distant memory,
and you don't know how.

Existing slowly begins to feel a chore.

Wake up, go to work, stare at a screen,
go home, stare at yet another screen,
sleep, repeat.

Everything slowly begins to lose its
colour, as the world as you see it
slowly turns to shades of grey and
muted tones.

You don't feel yourself anymore,
the things you used to love become a chore,
to do them with love and passion again
suddenly feels like folklore,
where in the days of yore,
they didn't seem to be a chore.
Now they do,
and you don't know how to
make them not feel like they're a chore.
You slowly begin to lack emotion and
begin to wonder
if there even is any point in doing
anything anymore.

Contemplating the reasons for existence
becomes your most favourite past time.

Slowly, but surely, the pieces come
together, like coincidences, and the
realisation hits.

You begin to get tired of feeling nothing
all the time, though for most, this isn't
always the case.

You begin to get tired of feeling nothing
all the time and being ignored,
so you speak up even if you're shy,
not wanting to cry,
of living a life so dull and dry.

You slowly incline your head,
trying to resist the temptation of going to bed,
wishing you were dead.

You doodle during that extremely
boring meeting,
not caring if anyone bothers to judge
those silly little doodles.
You do them again,
out of habit,
slowly gaining your mojo and **** for life

The upbeat songs come back,
so do the memories.

You embrace those,
and you don't let any old grump stop you,
because they should embrace them too.

Emotion is injected back into you again,
you tap your pen in quick succession,
to keep up with the rhythm of the song.

You gain a sense of flow,
you gradually begin to know that things
will turn out okay again.

Not immediately, but sooner or later.
You're no longer a dull hater,
life has just gotten one inch greater.

You don't think about heading to bed,
wishing you were dead,
because life seemed a dread.

You incline your head,
and observe your surroundings with
fresh eyes,
not uncontrollable silent cries!

You get the swing of things again.

The things you used to love are no longer
a chore,
the days of yore
where all that was just folklore,
was actually just folklore;
it's no longer a chore.

The emptiness is replaced with emotion,
the absurd sense of humour creeps back in.

Boom, you're your normal self again,
although you don't know what normal
actually is.
You no longer have a care in the world
about this normal that they all speak of.
For feeling empty
can just make you be another
faceless citizen,
blending in
with the rest.

You don't want that, do you?

You aspire to be the best,
with the feeling of being blessed,
and turning up in your best dressed,
without feeling the judgement at its best,
the anxiety goes to rest,
and you're at your best.

You skip happily,
while others walk with a blank expression.
You're the injection of colour
into the grey and glum world.
Others scorn at you for being different,
you happily embrace the fact
that you're that way.

Instead of wishing you were in bed,
thinking you'd rather be dead,
because life seems a dread,
you're ahead,
using your own head
whilst others are unknowingly spoon fed.

You're no longer a miserable person,
but one who stands out,
others internally screaming,
hoping to convince others to do the same,
whilst trying to stay relatively sane
to avoid unwanted fame,
or worse, fearing the cane,
whilst also trying to stay in your lane
to avoid the blame
over something pretty lame,
like setting your old rickety computer up in flames,
because you felt like it
and didn't care one little bit.
It's not the shortest poem in the world, so brace yourself.
Next page