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Iska Dec 2018
Starring at the world
through a fractured freeze frame
Splintering my skin as I draw closer clawing to the faded paint only to end up on the other side
To a world as bland and gray as it was on the other side.
Mackenzie Nov 2018
Here I go
I will give you everything that I am
Here I stand
Hoping I would be enough to
Give you warmth
My heart in my hand
You accepted what I had to give but
My body felt the cold front move in
I knew because I felt it before
As if my heart had dropped on the floor
Here I am
Chilled to the bone
My chest is empty
I never knew you could be so cold
Your last kiss left me froze
I wasn't the one that you chose but
There you go
You took my heart w you because
You knew it was made of pure gold
M.D
Andrew Parker Nov 2018
How Does Happiness Happen Poem
11/25/2018

I once heard that happiness is like watching the sunrise.
That when its golden shining rays meet your eyes, their solar power can bring the darkness its demise, by summoning a radiant, dazzling smile--that's how I thought happiness happens for a while.

Someone else said that happiness just takes some time, while living in the present. That its like you wake up one day and suddenly things seem more pleasant. In other words, it should feel like the cut scene of a Disney movie--but my movie writers must have missed the memo.

I've also been told that happiness is a habit. That you tell yourself kind things in the mirror, and then they'll stick to you like a jacket you wear covered in positive patches made of hearts and unicorns and stuff--although my jacket never seemed to keep me warm enough.

Some say that happiness is letting go of the what if's and why not's, the whose its', what's its, and the what nots.
That it's the power to accept what you cannot change.
They all say that happiness starts within, but what if happiness is not in me? What if my body doesn't know how to make happiness happen?

Because I've been through sleepless nights to watch the sunrise, but its shining rays must have stopped before they hit my heart. Instead of a super smile, all I could muster was a lukewarm shoulder shrug and tired yawn and thought to myself, "Well, I guess that's all," as I watched the sunrise, and felt my hopes fall.

I've tried living in the present. I've patiently waited and wished to wake up one morning and be over this. I know they said that happiness just takes a while, but it's taken so long that now it's the ******* future and I've stopped believing in that fool's rumor.

How many mornings have I spent saying sappy affirmations in the mirror? Telling myself, "You are smart," "You are kind," "You are fine, fresh, and fierce," "You will be happy someday." By now, those words I once wore like a jacket have outgrown me and they no longer fit.

Maybe my soul is like a sapless flower, a ship that sinks, or a staring contest filled with blinks... ****, that stinks.
Maybe my brain chemicals have leaked, or my allotted amount of happiness has already peaked.
Maybe my stress and anxiety disagree with me being happy.
Maybe my happiness frosted, the first time I fell in love and lost it.

Even after all these things I've seen and done, I can't comprehend why my happiness is still long foregone.
My smile's corrosion has continued unspoken -- so I've issued a new one with permanent pen.
But I couldn't concoct a formula for the happiness potion -- one that would raise my happiness quotient.
I haven't unfrozen my heart out of fear that it's broken -- and thawing it out will release the emotions.


But I do know one thing that's true -- it's for certain.
If my happiness is broken, then by the principles of inversion, it can be rewoven.

There is no guarantee that it will come promptly,
but until then, I'll keep my pursuit in motion,
and continue to believe in the notion
that someday happiness will just happen to happen to me.
Tahlia-rayne Nov 2018
The panic is inching up my throat and through my limbs
Slowly spreading cold and leaden
Why is the clock moving so fast?
Like its trying to outrun memories
I'm almost frozen by my resistence to blink for fear I might miss everything
Time has never felt so against me than when I'm truly happy
Jodie-Elaine Nov 2018
He awoke on frozen concrete,
The broken glass.
Locked door, let the house run down around us,
At least we’re safe, right?
We had Time on our hands, we always said we’d go Someplace,
said our youth was a tragedy.
We’re our own worst enemies, silent screaming, kicking ourselves out the door, glass limbs.
Your hands fumbling over the catch of the lock, unmending the hinges.
The last glass we owned skidded off the other side of the table,
Throwing itself, disembodied and disfiguring
onto the floor.
We were empty in that last glass,
Cold eyes at means to an end.
Staring at the broken glass, wishing
To his sleeping form
It would glue itself back
Together

Together,
It would glue itself back
To his sleeping form.
Staring at the broken glass, wishing,
Cold eyes at means to an end.
We were empty in that last glass,
onto the floor,
Throwing itself- disembodied and disfiguring-
The last glass we owned skidded off the other side of the table,
Your hands fumbling over the lock, unmending the hinges.
Glass limbs.
We’re our own worst enemies, silent... screaming, kicking ourselves out the door,
Said our youth was a tragedy,
We had Time on our hands, we always said we’d go Someplace,
At least we’re safe... right?
Locked door, let the house run down around us...
The broken glass.
He awoke on frozen concrete.
mirror effect vilanelle-like poem, 2015. I've forgotten the name of this poetic technique. If anyone knows please tell me and release me from the niggling bug of not remembering
Erian Rose Nov 2018
In the coldness of the day
A frigid breeze swirls past
The trees covered in frozen crystals
And hands that hold as cold as ice
When your heart is mended
Tapped and glued
The frost melts it away
While the fire boils
And embers burn to ashes
The frost conceals all in glasses
Stiff and lifeless in its grasp
If only the frost could render a damaged life
Because frost isn't as powerful
As the sleet that shivers a windshield
Makenzie Marie Nov 2018
I ask if I’m hurting you
And you don’t know

But I do
I am hurting myself
Stabbing pains in my chest
And a tingle in my hands.
But as it stands,
The thought of the glass shards
Left in my heart
Ripping open your soft soul
And leaving it exposed to the cold
All but freezes me though.
Julia Gorrie Nov 2018
I still feel your hands on my body.
I still hear your words.
I still smell your scent.
I still feel as helpless as I did 6 years ago.

The world is evil.
No lesson taught about it.
No way to prevent it.
"Boys will be boys"
No second thoughts about it.

"No wonder, your skirt is too short"
"What were you wearing?"
"Why didn't you scream louder?"
"Why didn't you fight harder?"

Almost every woman I have met
Has had their bodies stained and tossed to the side,
Almost every woman I've met still is kept up at night,
And like myself,
When they are sobbing in their bathtub,
They wonder "why is this world so cruel to us?"
"If God is a man, does he think it's okay too?"
And as they are held captive by the unfair burden of his filthy sins,

they scrub their skin, desperate to wash his touch away.
I have known so many who have been through assult. It needs to be talked about more. Something needs to change. Also, a disclaimer, I am not saying that all men are like this and they can be assulted as well. It is messed up either way, please don't think I am not aware of that. Just writing from the heart and experience. Thank you.
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