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Julia Aubrey Nov 29
I sit and think of you,
and then perhaps another.

I think of the moments we spent,
the times I longed to call you my lover.
I feel a deepness in my chest,
rising then falling,
with every breath.
Floating and lingering,
like a melancholy chord
oh, how sweet it rests.

I've always hoped for courage,
I've gained it in all shapes and colors.
But the courage I'm missing in my collection,
is the courage of love for another.

Professing and Proud,
not pawning nor painful.
Pliable and Passionate,
without polluting a punch.

This courage,
pleasant as it sounds,
may it one day reach your ears.

-Julia Aubrey Rhodes-
Em MacKenzie Oct 1
I’ve had a rough night.
I’ve had a rough decade.
To clear my head I decided to go for a drive,
the cold autumn air, the dark sky, the vacant streets and the glow of the traffic lights can sometimes heal.
Not tonight.
The cold air chilled me to the bone,
the dark sky is without a single star,
the vacant streets create an atmosphere of being on another world; completely desolate, utterly isolated.
The traffic lights are all red, like the anger that burns inside me.
I shouldn’t have gotten in my car tonight.
I have a single headlight, my passenger side burnt out sometime last week.
These things bother me more than they should.

I drove to my old home, where I spent twenty three years of my life.
It’s gone and I knew it would be, they started the demolition in spring shortly after I left it, during one of our coldest winters yet.
But now, a house is being constructed on the lot.
Where once stood a small, modest, cottage looking home has been turned into only a gigantic skeleton of what will be a modern house that holds no unique characteristics.
It will blend in with every other house on the street.
Notice how I say house, not home.
They built right to the hedge, Jesus, they didn’t even leave room for a yard or driveway.
Besides all that, I can only think
“my mother’s soul left her body on this land.”
The same land they’ve covered.
Her temporary bedroom when she turned palliative will probably be their living room, or maybe bathroom.
Whoever lives in this house won’t know that the most wonderful mother in this world died where their house is standing.
They won’t know it was a Christmas morning, and the last thing I ever heard from her mouth was “your arms are getting strong” after helping her to her OMS supplied hospital bed.
These things bother me more than they should.

I usually drive fast and play my music loud,
tonight I’m driving fast to get anywhere but where I am,
tonight I’m playing my music loud to drown out my sobs.
The kind of sobs that hit your body like aggressive shocks.
I hate crying, I despise sobbing.
I don’t get embarrassed, but I’m mortified by my own vulnerability even though I’m alone.
I even fake a laugh and shake my head.
Pretend it’s nothing, and that I’m an idiot, that “that’s just life” and so forth.
These things bother me more than they should.

When you lose the only home you’ve ever known,
are you destined to be transient eternally?
Is it possible to find someone who will love every part of you,
and love you enough to actually show it?
But most importantly,
does it ever stop hurting,
even for a ******* second?
Just spewing out the cold and dark feelings that are devouring me right now. Sorry for the angst.
Em MacKenzie Sep 20
My mind’s checking in to checking out,
I’ve decided I don’t want to know what the ending’s about.
I’m tired of gaining wrinkles under my sunken eyes,
and I’m sick of grey hairs and done with grey skies.

The skeletons are stacked and toppling out from my closet,
the space is barely enough for the ones born in the past ten years.
They tap and they rap and even try to claw it
but I’ve soundproofed the walls and even plugged my ears.
The gasoline has been splashed on the ground,
and I’m buying matches by the pound.

I’ve got a war campaign between my heart and my head,
bleach doesn’t clean the stain from the mass of bloodshed.
I’m tired of holding my tongue and hiding a quivering lip,
and I’m ignoring all those who tell me to “just get a grip.”

The demons are pushing their way out from under my floorboards,
They’ve always cracked but now they also screech.
I search in hope for some rope but only find extensions cords,
and even then they’re fully used or slightly out of reach.
The gasoline has been splashed on the ground,
and I’m buying matches by the pound.

I guess this would be my goodbye
but absolutely nothing about it is good.
Let us not pretend to cry,
but admit I made it further than I should.
There’s a certain strength in keeping your eyes open;
a certain strength that I just lack,
skip all the words, they don’t need to be spoken
just please let me sleep in a place that’s forever pitch black.
Jolan Lade Aug 16
I'm done, going
I will be far away, not caring what you are doing
I will be closing my ears
So ******* with your empty words and fake tears
Just done
clever Aug 12
you will be poetry wrapped in skin.
they will melt under your faded gaze.
the spaces between your lungs will be explored.
they will fall in love with the darkness behind your lips.
they will live in the familiarity of your movements.
i will have stripped you of everything that made you the same.
you will be nothing like the person before, for now you are art.
you are simply the words penned onto your bones.
you are a masterpiece in human form.
you made me write, and i made you beautiful.
when we are done, you are perfect.
you are poetry wrapped in skin when i am done.
when i am finished, you will be one of two things.
you will be broken, or you will be beauty.
i cannot let you be both.
Gray Jun 15
Today I’ve just sat quietly in my desk chair.
All that’s on my mind is her potential affair.

How long has this all been happening?
I am no longer believing that this is something I’m only imagining.

For the passed six months she has been coming home late in the night.
The look on her lovely face indicates that everything's not alright.

I look at the clock, and it’s already way passed nine.
Nothing is turning out absolutely fine.

I open my desk drawer and pull out my old forgotten friend.
Tonight I will soon reach the final dead end.
Mel May 18
Ends frayed,
We were unraveling.
Piece by piece,
Thread by thread,
We were becoming undone.

We never cut ties,
You just stopped.
But maybe that was because
Anything we ever had
Had already died.
What a thief,
From the outside,
Has stolen and crumbled,
Causing the genocide,
Of my heart,
And self-appreciation,
What sat in in my,
Emotional station,
What has been stolen,
Deep down inside me,
Has no warranty,
Can no longer abide by me,
It is my true happiness,
Wrecked by insults and sappiness,
All it releases is selflessness,
No this isn't a phase,
It isn't a stage,
Those really aren't things,
Just like bragging and bling,
They drive me down,
I am too tired to get back up,
Where am I now?
Destroyed...I have no more love.
I have already run out of true love and happiness.  Life works fast.
Jay9 Apr 7
Alone in the dark
Contemplating the end
Good bye cruel world
Time to finish this horrible nightmare
Cana Mar 19
I don’t write about you.
I daren’t, for my anger and resent
Could only portray you in the worst
Possible manner.
So I’d rather not.
I’d rather not indulge the bitter acid inside
I’d rather remember you before the
Heartache and pain, a flashing smile
And a twinkling eye. A glow and presence.

I do not miss you, not anymore.
I count our parting as one of the great blessings
One of the bullets dodged.
And rightfully so.
Duality in destruction
Can never come to any good

I do not hate you. I Never did
Surprising, I know.
Such feeling is reserved for enemies
And even then sparsely.
I hate things because of you.
But not you. I pity you.

Nonetheless I write this that one day
Whether it’s read or not
You will know. That I hope you are ok
That your zebra comes home
That your lion doesn’t eat you
I’d wish you happiness

Au revoir, bon voyage, goodbye

Sincerely your “no longer a friend”
Unrequited, unfettered, undone.
The ubiquitous message to people we no longer know.
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