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LC 6d
the bittersweet word left my lips
but it kept the other words at bay -
the ones I could never, ever say.
I dragged those deeply rooted words,
pulling them until they wouldn't budge.
I wrapped them in my voice and let them go
until thorny feelings seized my legs
and dug into my soft, tender flesh.
my fingers bled as I separated the thorns.
they shrank, withering into the soil.
and once they did, I whispered, "goodbye"
for the second time, and I was finally free.
#escapril day 29!
sometimes my nimble fingers
slide across these coarse pages
subconsciously but smoothly
as if having a conversation,
filling these blank pages
with ghost stories
collected from the sages
of past ages unknown,
almost flirting with my sanity
running off on their own
like a free bird
talking to me
'Hey, are you reading this?
Look, I'm writing poetry!'.
Runaway fingers over runaway hearts...
I run my fingers everywhere,
Well, almost everywhere.

They dance along your back in reassurance,
Seek shelter in the comfort of your own,
Press matter to matter to confirm your existence,
Wring the day’s dripping tension from your back,
And shoulders, and feet.

In the mornings they profusely itch,
Until they get the chance to text you good morning,
In the afternoons they gnawingly ache,
Until they’re knocking at your door.
But mostly, in the evenings they joyously sing,
Home once again wrapped up in yours.

I run my fingers everywhere,
Well, Mostly everywhere.

But mostly, they strain to breaking
Reaching out to you.
Follow up to my previous work, the other side of the coin, the other hand intertwine.
You run your fingers everywhere,
Well, almost everywhere.

They whisper through my hair,
Intertwine with mine in quiet times,
Comfort me with gentle squeezes,
Link behind me when we hug hello,
And goodbye.

I’ve seen the product of their delicate touch,
Felt their strength in your convictions,
Tasted the delicious meals of their efforts,
But mostly, I fear they will continue,
To keep me an arm’s length away.

You run your fingers everywhere,
Well, almost everywhere.

But mostly, you’ve just got them,
Wrapped around my heart.
Ashlyn Yoshida Nov 2020
It was stuck in my hand, alike to a tiny galaxy
Stars slipping through my fingers as I let go
Realizing my hands were too small
I gave it up to the future of an abysmal heart
Where all the dead dreams go
I want this to end.
chang cosido Sep 2020
𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠?
𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚙𝚜
𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗
𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠
𝚠𝚑ich 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑ich 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝.
𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍
𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜
𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚜
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠
𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜.
𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚙𝚜
𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗
𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜
𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎
𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚝,
𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠
𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎.
tia Sep 2020
my fingertips are cold, with slowed movement
and there is a grace to them, dancing in such a sorrowful way
I'd almost think they were longing for someone
to hold them, locking each other, and brushing against

and yet, my mind grows uneasy at that idea of warmth
I draw my frigid hands away, escaping the touch
how unbearable it would be, in all reality
they remain as they are, how i'd prefer, lonely.
take this poem however you want to, for me it is an expression of myself
CupcakesArePink Sep 2020
an approval or disappointment
to direction or accusation
****** to the public
a vow of borderline forever
at last a promise to never be broken
In the palm of the one who has never spoken
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