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With that stillness
Probably
It's time to bid
Condolances
For the death of
The dream

With heavy heart
Tear
D
R
O
P
S
.
.
.
.
Genre: Dark Abstract
Theme: The Blue
JustMK Feb 22
Some days I go from top speed to a dead halt in the same amount of time it takes to unlock a door or flip a light switch.

And when I'm standing still, it's hard not to feel like everything around me is crashing down and shattering. And it's loud. It's in my face. Etched onto my skin. Burned into my memory.

But somehow, I'm still here. After the thundering collision and the screeching of tires. I'm still here. In the middle of the crossroads. Still breathing. Still standing. Still here.

Because there are a few strings keeping me from crumbling. And here and there an iron rod that will not let me fall. Small truths and sentiments that shout louder and whisper sweeter than any of my thoughts ever could:

"someone cares" "you matter to me"

"don't walk alone" "careful" "would you like a hand?" "how was your day?" "you're smart too" "I like your face"

It brings me back. Back to that crossroads: my past behind me. A vast future ahead. Calling, beckoning the same way you do with that smile on your lips, your hand outstretched. And even in my clumsy fingers I will grasp it.

And follow.

From 0 to 5, to 10. To 20. To 30. To 40.

Slowly propelled forward yet again, out of the darkness my mind pulls up and around my shoulders like a shroud. Out of the ******* currents that pull me down. Out of the shadows where my bones grow cold.

Into the light and glow of countless stars. Each perfect, each warm. Each far away and watching from their perch upon your shoulders, your arms, your cheeks. Each inviting in the way a warm bed calls on rainy days.

Let me follow. Let me fall. Let me sink into your embrace and tell you how afraid I was today. Let me bare my soul, and make me strong. So that one day. If you should hear the collision and smell the smoke, I will be there to lift you out of the wreckage and hold you to my chest. The way you do now.

That one day I won't need saving from myself. But love fearlessly instead.
I had a bit of a tough day. Got catcalled by a gross dude as I was leaving campus (and I'd been happy until just then). When he grabbed me, I punched him and got the hell out of there, but it properly wrecked my day.
Poetic T Nov 2019
I'm the verses others
                  wish to syllabise,

But I'll be to wordy to condense

into rhyme or reason..


I never configure to a word
                                            count,

To abstract for other to realise
        the meaning of my existence.
my lifes just to complicated to put







                                       into any kind of words.
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
People cant put me in to words and even full stops fall....
Mystic Ink Plus Jul 2019
If someone asks
Why don't you write,
Those days?

I can't
Pretend
Just reply
Genre: Experimental
Author's Note:When he/she asked for a paper
To write a next chapter
Someone gave him/her a filled page
Now tell me
Where and how can he/she write?
kiran goswami May 2019
The hardest questions to answer are the ones that end with a full stop.
kiran goswami Dec 2018
Full stop.
Too strong to end any sentence.
Too weak to start one.
Poetria Aug 2015
A full stop means an ending*
What's the use in pretending
You won't just start writing
Again in the morning?
Or a half-way stop. It's never a full stop.
stuck Aug 2015
i used to hate fullstops

i hated the way they ended
stories which i never wanted
to see ending

i hated the way they sit
on the side of a page
thinking that they had the authority
to stop. and restart

i hated the way they didn't signify
a beginning, only an end
and the possibility of things continuing
were never certain

but what was certain,
was it's end

poetry‘s not meant to be certain
it's not meant to close up a story with a single line
or a single rhyme
must less a single dot

but then your life starts spinning
and suddenly you're looking at this tiny dot
and just wishing it could appear in your life
so that your story can finally end.
Poetic T Oct 2014
My thoughts are signed upon the
Wall
If you look closely
Reading the words that
Scream,
"I wrote it quickly"
Some may think with
Little thought,
But I needed to show how I felt
Anger,
Confusion,
Tears
Sit still upon my face, mixed
With the ink that permeates the wall
There is but one full stop
It signed the end of my write
The pen had but one nib
And I pulled upon the trigger,
My words were expelled
Upon the wall,
If you cant read my words,
Then you'll never know why
**"I had to write my end upon the wall"
Jules Sep 2014
I loathe the fact that a boy I don't even know can fill me with so much insecurity.
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