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Tatiana Feb 2019
The ground is dimpled with different footprints
large and small
deep and shallow
human and animal
Some have more depth than others ever could
having walked miles and miles.

To be light on ones toes
is a characteristic
of those not old
of those not tired
or of those who are sneaking.
I'm not sure how to decipher these prints.

But we can learn much from the steps of others.

There is truth in how we walk
with strong, deep steps
or light strides
weighted with experience
or floating in the feeling of living.

The reason behind the steps we take in life
are sometimes never known
are sometimes never noticed
we keep our heads down
but we don't see that we're walking
on a path that has been walked before.

How come we walked like this?
Who walked and tripped?
Who stepped in the trap?
How did the earth disappear beneath them?

These footprints are ancient,
preserved to reach a modern time
but their reasons were left far behind.

Sometimes we are left with all the evidence.
Sometimes we have all the facts,
but none of the reasons.
Sometimes we vow to find those reasons.
Sometimes we are content to let it remain unknown.
Since the english language counts Y as a vowel, sometimes, I might as well include it in the series
s Willow Feb 2019
My condition, I could not awaken.
I craved the ill-started.
Insensitive, unable to love.
My heart was broken.
I send prayers to the departed.
You’re looking down from above.

The standing brought such sorrow.
What will it bring tomorrow?
Take thy condition from our my heart.
You gave e a head start.
I crave the standing and stricken logic
Of the illogical.
Self centered
Low life
Stuck up
Somebody came to mind
For me
It happens to be
My
One and only
Mother
I tried so hard
She didn't see
Nor care
She's not looking for me
Just him
He has become known
As perfection
Which happened
To be enough
For her to forget
About the
One and only
Daughter
Me
I love my mother more than you could imagine, the pain, the hurt, and everything else she has put me through made me who I am today. But this, man, who walked right back into my moms life, tore our family apart, and she doesn't care because she didn't want us anyways. I wonder if she ever thinks about me....
blackbiird Feb 2019

What a shame
That the rose
Died before You
Got a chance to water it.

What a shame
That the candle
Burned out before
You got a chance to light it.

I guess that’s
The beauty in forgotten love.

growingpains Jan 2019
You said you saw beauty in the things that died
To the objects that chose the afterlife
Like the flowers you forgot to water
As their soft petals swayed their way on the floor first
Then,
They danced their way under the rug, because you swept to check off that chore
And right then and there, in your laziness, I found humour
But I should've left, I should've ran
Knowing that I would soon bring comfort
To those petals of the lonesome flowers
Because it was with those very flowers that you swept me off my feet But it was with those very flowers that you swept me under the rug, gently
Something that was in my draft for a while.
I wish you all a great rest of the week.
Much love,
N.
roan Jan 2019
I stand in a puddle of water
Liquid pooled around my ankles
Dripping from my eyes so slow I didn’t notice them at first
But when they become apparent, foreign fingers brushed them away
And I disregard the wetness to pull back the hands

Who do these hands belong to?

The puddle becomes a pool
I stand in the shallows and wiggle my toes
My fingers have grown pruney from where my fingers dip in the water
Blisters have settled on my soles and children splash at my face
Droplets trail to my collarbone and I blink away water or tears and wonder
Ears listening to unrecognizable laughter

Whose children are these?

The water sits level at my mouth
I should feel weightless but my clothes drag me down
The pool has become a lake and I stand in it shivering
Perched on my toes there is a precarious balance for air
The tears don’t stop and the water keeps rising
My sobs echo across the surface
Murky figures wave at me from the shore and smile like they know me

Who am I?

They say a river never forgets
That it knows its way back to the ocean
But my river swirls around my head and drips out my ears
The lake forms a loch of memories that can be touched
But never held

A lake is where memories go to be forgotten

I drown in a Lethe that pours from my eyes, from my mind
And I sink to forget and be forgotten
Bit personal, won't lie

Permission to use with credit
Em MacKenzie Jan 2019
I savour the coffee taste on your tongue and on your lips,
it’s reminiscent of my throat when a word slips, or when each pill drips.
The less and less I sleep,
the more secrets I keep,
whisked away in stolen conversation
but all the thoughts; lost in translation.
Squeeze the trigger, pull the plug,
I now figure you’re just another drug,
I won’t get clean; this time I’ll overdose,
I couldn’t hope to wean when you’re still this close.

So turn up the boiling scalding water,
you know that it’s time to come clean.
Submerge yourself or don’t even bother,
appearance doesn’t matter when you’re never seen.

I was worried I’d be trapped on a different side,
resulting from the bleaching of the darkness that I tried to hide,
covered in a soft pastel portrait of a stranger,
who balanced pleasure and pain with no thoughts of danger.
I admit I’ve written letters before
as a safety net,
at the time it meant more,but you’re still upset.
“I’m cautious while being reckless,
always nauseous but please respect this,
I’ve been done for years,
and now it’s gotten too trite,
my lip quivers from the tears,
where once I just used to bite.”

So get out all of the soaps and the oils,
you know that it’s time to come clean.
Replenish the lukewarm with water that boils,
and continuing scrubbing and lathering inbetween.

They all ask the five W’s and one H,
and expect a definition on abrupt command.
In my bath the purity saturates,
I only find bubbles and water spill from my hand.

It’s hard to describe in written word
the completion that was suddenly felt,
it was my first sight and first sound heard;
a power that could make the galaxies melt.
She threw a blanket statement over me,
but it failed to cover me up whole.
In the corner of her eye all I’ll ever be,
is frozen feet walking out of control.

So let yourself soak until you dissolve,
you know that it’s time to come clean.
It’s within the water we’re bound to evolve,
and if all fails we’ll glisten and gleam.
Cerb99 Jan 2019
Right at the edge of a lonely town,
There stands a house that shrubs surround.
Wild flowers do cracked tiles crown,
And not a soul to be seen around.
Yet through empty halls ancient echoes weep,
Calling to those who in far lands sleep.
Torn apart by lines on the ground
The age old laughter makes no sound.
Yonnick August Jan 2019
The inevitable unknown abyss,
Sparks the fear in one,
As one contemplate of the steps,
That leads to possible oblivion.

Fearing the thought of being forgotten,
Anxiously striving to create,
A legacy
A mark
Something.
In desperation of murdering this feeling,
Putting it away from us far,
The very idea of unimportance.

Every being,
In this vapor of time,
When faced with our setting sun,
Dream of all not being for naught,
Of our little contribution.
And we hope at the very least,
We are remembered,
By someone.
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