#freeform poems on Hello Poetry

Rosé Mar 26

I met my younger self for coffee down at the park we used to play.
Our eyes different but the same.
One grande iced caramel whipped cream and a vape.
Almost the same as if yesterday.
“Does it get better” but my words never deliver a false comforting taste.
A short skirt and crop top, trying to ******, I wish I could convince them not to pursue.
“We have a septum? Our hairs long too.” We also moved and are getting a tattoo.
“Are we still with her?” She made us hurt but you don’t know better than to stay with her.
“But you have love in your face?” because the woman we’re with made us this way.
“Do we figure stuff out” getting there but don’t worry I won’t let us down, just be prepared and stay safe.
It’s a coin always flipping and never deciding a decision.
As we grow older I wonder what our older self will discover.
Until next time sweetie “until next time you old tree”
Parting ways is never easy but I hope older me is prepared to greet me.

This is lowkey kinda sad

#metmyoungerselfforcoffee #freeform

sunset's poetry Mar 24

Reality

there’s most likely a certain feeling within the world, sweet…and bitter.
soft footfalls gently approaching you, almost silent against the chatter of the city
making your blood rush faster, your heart beat louder than you thought it ever could
the adrenaline goes up and twists your surroundings, making them so very colorful
all of a sudden a fantasia too good to be true materializes right before your eyes
so perfect, so beautiful, almost a bite of awestrucking sticky-sweet bliss, of heaven—

yet then

it all falls down, a gleaming castle of visions crumbling into worn brick and cracked stone
crashing, shattering into millions of thin, crystalline shards of broken glass, clear as day yet cold as night
grappling on, plunging into your flesh and twisting your heart, knifelike pain searing into your skin
with ashen, burnt, blackened vines, branching out and ripping you into shreds of a being.
it’s so ****, so bittersweet, so soothing yet so stoic, so overly melodramatic
you wonder why you believed this flawed, traitorous fantasy in the first place.
it lets ripples of pain strain through you in cascades, tormenting you
with waves of sobriety you wish you didn’t feel.
enveloping with perfection, and crashing with hurt
this perfectly imperfect unfolding drama
feels a lot like reality.

#freeform #freeformpoetry #reality

Gideon Mar 8

174 "The Suncatcher"

Two pairs of pliers in my hand. A silver chain between them. To most, this is creation. But, no. This is destruction. Tugging at the jump rings is also pulling at my heartstrings. Is it sympathy? Do I empathize with the connections that my own hands wrought? No, it's a steaming burning hot coal sitting heavily upon my pride. Why am I rendering my own creation useless? Taking all the shiny ends off the suncatcher, so that it may deflect rays of light no more. Well, I must. I have no choice. I must destroy the best thing I ever made to make smaller versions of it. These flawed fractions will be nothing like my original work. They will be merely reflections of it. Like deflected rays of light becoming a rainbow, they will become less. Less color. Less joy. Less pride. I will take less pride in these smaller artworks, though artworks they are. They are only a sliver of shattered glass compared to an ornate mirror. A mirror that once reflected me.

#freeform #crafts #suncatcher #art #masterpiece #destruction

Gideon Mar 8

171 "****** Justice"

Justice isn't enough. I want her blood, but I don't want it spilled on my child-like fingers. I want it washed off of them, with simple gentleness. The kindness she never bothered to save for her own flesh and blood. I want her blood to soak into a warm, wet washcloth, held in loving, caring hands.

I never wanted her blood! She put her blood on my hands, framing a child for a crime no one committed. She covered up her own atrocities by bleeding all over a small body with small hands that only wanted a hug. Some comfort. A mother.

So no. Justice will never be enough. Vengeance will never sate my rage. But sweet words may. And warm cuddles might. Maybe a hug from someone who isn't a bleeding blood relative will make up for what she did and didn't do.

Please, wash my hands. Wash off her sins, and let me have my childhood back. Cleanse my soul of her tainted blood, until the water runs clear.

#freeform #blood #guilt #justice #mother

Gideon Mar 8

132 "Death of a Poet"

She looks out the window silently. Despite the moon’s pale glow, she cannot see very far. She is thankful, for the world’s beauty on a moonlit night might convince her to stay. She turns to the chair. Here it sits, as it has sat for days. It has been waiting, building tension and anticipation, only encouraging her heinous act. She drags the chair to the desk, and starts writing. Words flow from her pen, and tears flow from her face like blood has flown from her wrists. She stops. Thinks. Carefully places one final period to end her words, her work, her worthless life. She drags the chair once more. It finds its place in the center of the room. She finds her place with God. And the poet wrote no more.

#freeform #poet #death

Gideon Mar 8

71 "Forest of Five Feet"

Moonlight casts a pale glow on the forest of five feet behind my house. It once stretched for miles, but now it doesn’t stretch at all. It’s confined to a thin strip of land, only five feet wide. It was my forest, a place of wonder and cryptids. Now it is a flat plain that deer solemnly walk across. They mourn the trees and grass, and the life it once held.

#deforestation #freeform #nature #mourning

Gideon Mar 8

55 "Stains"

Sometimes you stain pages because the pain inside must be turned into art or more despair. The air in this room is too thick to breathe. I need to see the light but it never seems to come. Come with me? Come with me down a dark and winding path to places I shouldn’t go.

#freeform #idk #art #artist

Gideon Mar 8

30 "Tornado"

A tornado ripped through my house. It devastated my family. This freak of nature was no weather event. It was my own mother, as violent as any other natural disaster.

#freeform #mother #abuse

Blair Devine Feb 17

reflection

I am just a concept.
shapes twisting, moving, changing,
taking on new and familiar forms,
fading and brightening, becoming new colors,
colors that may not even exist yet.
as one piece of me falls out of focus, another fills the void,
sometimes just shapes and colors, I'm unrecognized
other times, the shapes get smaller, more specific,
piecing together a collage of misshapen pieces,
ultimately giving the illusion of unity, of purpose.
i ask myself if how I'm seeing myself is how others do.
everyone pieces these shapes together differently,
creating a new being unique to them that i cannot precieve.
to them, i am those ideas, that shape,
and others can say what they see,
change what others see of me,
influence other's perception of myself.
to me, i am constantly changing,
constantly evolving,
the me that i can precieve is just a concept,
in that light i am just a thought, nothing more.

this was written before i knew i was trans. still one of my favorites.

#freeform #dissociation #depersonalization

inkedsolace Jan 14

trinkets

plastic,
seashells,
plants,
glass,

flowers,
feathers,
lead...
-hard pass.

I've just realized now how dangerous some of the stuff I used to play with as a kid was now. O_o

#trinkets #past #life #short #freeform #mundane