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Hawley Anne Jun 29
I sometimes wonder silently
If you even comprehend
The way you makes me feel these days
These days before the end
I am not even human
Just an object to be used
If told I'm not an N.P.C.
I wonder would you be confused?
Our days infact are numbered
I'm not sure how many days are left
So I detatch mentally when we fight
And while you scream I hold my breath
Toxic is our new normal
That's why we can not be
Our time as a couple is long over
There is no more "us" between you and me
Maybe someday you'll understand
What it means to love someone
To be there through their bad and good
Not only there for just their fun
If I could be granted
Just one simple wish
I'd wish for all hearts to heal
So that noone else would ever feel like this
The end is getting closer now
There is no need to pretend
But I promise too remember the good days too
Not just these days before the end.
Jeremy Betts Jun 20
I don't dare to look in the driver's side mirror
Objective issues seen seem closer than they appear
The warnings always been there
In black print on the bottom from corner to corner
Trust me, I've spent most of my forever
Glued to the rearview mirror
I wouldn't say one over the other is safer
Both lead to the inability too steer
Leaving the inevitable outcome to each pretty clear

©2024
mourning the little love lost between us,
the little left of you i know -
the more i know not to trust
a grin that doesn't fit your face
clothes you wouldn't usually wear
you talk a voice which bleeds white noise
i don't know you anymore
i find faults in friendly faces,
i recognize laughter lines into unfamiliar smiles
my sunken eyes with their well worn stares
my broken bones in their cold armchair
struggling to trust in my memory
recollecting conversations held between these
people who'd never remember me
Hawley Anne May 30
I tore a small piece of star-lit sky,
right from a summers night.
I turned it into a drawstring bag
to hold these last things tight.
I gathered up sunlit memories
of much more happy times,
colored with both our smiles,
They were from the time when you were mine.
I placed the memories in the bag,
and thought for just a moment.
Of silent cuddles and forehead kisses,
and all the days when we weren't broken.
I placed those thoughts next to the memories,
in my stary bag.
As I sang the song you'd sung to me,
whenever I was sad.
As my voice carried out the words,
Of "you'll be in my heart".
I dropped them a little bit recklessly,
and they almost fell apart.
I took those precious moments of love,
And with them added one last thing in there.
A little piece of notebook paper,
marked with the promises we'd shared.
Our life, our plans, and dreams of family.
The future that we had planned.
All gathered up together now
in that stary bag.
I took it to the beach last night.
And just before sunrise,
right before I let it go
into the oceans rush,
I added one last simple kiss,
to the bag that held the
                                             last
                                        of
                                                us.
neth jones Mar 13
dead friends on the mantelpiece
to scripture over our lives
salivate and dictate from the sidelines
        - as i grow a family -
they become hidden behind a build up
                            of favourite greeting cards
                  too pretty to let go of
the flowers that bloom
at the site of this burial
are not a marker
nor memory of
what lies beneath;
they are the reminder
that there will always
be this burst of
colour and beauty
to be cherished
in spite of
what those roots
have grown through
Heavy Hearted Jan 22
The cruelty of the the human mind-
To lose, to keep, to hide, to find
Half our life be only true
If somehow the mind allows it to...

To forget; well sadly nothing truly competes
for it's the most merciless of our minds feats:
Nothing can be real
if your memory can't on cue:
Regurgitate information,
ephemerally true.

To perform, to recite, to repeat, and understand-
through blackness- pathetic, forget it, regret it
Oh how the mind cruelly demands.
A troubled mind's much like a web
Tangled in memories unsaid
Hawley Anne Jan 8
Silence in chaos
triumph and loss
The house became empty
the line had been crossed.

Empty threats
spat in my face.
Accepted with grace.

Memories escaped.
As your smell slowly fades
from this room and also
my heart.
irinia Nov 2023
finding our way back again. to what? this is a steep question. I am drawing this map of words, today we should speak of what is, the roots of words, this silence their soil, these words vehicle for the inexpressible.  Gaza strip, day 52, Jordan foreign ministery says Israel is busy with genocide. what else is trully new, for sure not pain, a fundamental law unrecognized by physics. the paradox of time that goes deeper into words when we feel them. the center cannot support itself exposed in cruel eyes. fall and rise of a time we lived in sometime like in a house with no windows. reality is and is not in the same spacetime simply unreachable, untraceable, incomprehensible. someone speaks in a low voice, another speaks more with the eyebrows. the door opens to the dance of life, and who is riding the dance. brave minds and collapsed bodies, I didn't want to be here today, she says. one feels disgusted by the expulsion from eden. I am looking for the secret garden where the mind of the body grows, but I don't know it. I am looking for a theory of absence. this is a story about the impossibility of story.  we have to listen and forget so that life goes on
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