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Nick Stiltner May 21
The wind felt different on my neck today,
Slightly colder, unfamiliar,
It was not a feeling I was used to.

But this breeze hasn’t changed at all
There was a spark on the nerves of the cuticles where hair stands ensnaired there had sounds of foundation rock breaking and cracking a lump of clay stepping out of the mold under its own power it’s own fruition at first its unseemly bordering on crude then your curiosity strikes like what will this lump of clay do? will he crash off the table damp too much water tear himself in two brand new asunder asunder asunder I see a rock we have to peek under I have to keep searching but my search has all been for naught but then again looking on those days in the rays I couldn’t wait to find shade is this really the only way yes she says with a sigh so I position my head so my eyes meet sky i guess it’s time to retry so here I go again and again and again and again and again so many times I’ve tried to take flight and sometimes I can’t be but filled with spite but I know The Wheel she spins goes back and goes forth
So it’s on to the next and the next and the next this life is only a quest but that is only a guess
Turning in bed throughout the night
Pestered by demons
Didn't invite
The last thing wanna do is face my pain
It's the only subject boiling on my brain
You said not to worry and stress without cause
Know no other way of coping with my flaws
Is it easy for everyone else to show themselves love?
Self- loathing drags me down and I cannot rise above
First doubt creeps in like 5 o'clock shadows
Insults that start small and then grow
On mind like frost coating a thin layer of ground
Freezing to the insecurity to which I am bound
Last night's insomnia paints bags under eyes
Circles so deep and dark they can't even be disguised
I eat up lies you dish out like I haven't been fed in weeks
Hungry because gut never finds the nourishment it seeks
The distractions I consume to fill the void only render me more hollow
Skeleton becomes a nest of pity in which I choose to wallow
Fears bloom faster than blossoming flowers
Watered by teardrops that pour out in showers
Within bones
The middle where marrow should be
Instead filled with stones
Inside skin a storm is raging complete with lightning and thunder
Perished as teardrops poured
Presently pain pulls me under
I quickly surrender to rain clouds in the sky
Working to save my soul
Guess it is time to accept that in this universe some forces are beyond my control
I wish i could choose who i love
sage Dec 2020
several months ago, i wrote about love.
how i thought it would be fire, sunlight, a single candle in an empty room.
i built a girl to put all my love into so i had a way to let it out,
but i had never loved then, and now i have.

i love a girl with short hair and dark eyes who is allergic to all my favourite foods,
and she made me realise that loving was easier than i feared.
i love her without hesitation, without waiting, without restraint.
but when she loved me back i was afraid. i'm afraid now.

because what happens when - not if- she wakes up and sees me as i do?
she sees she was wrong, and i am not warm or kind or anything she thinks of me.
and a voice whispers above the fear that maybe she's right, and i am wrong.
if she does not see how awful i am, how awful could i really be?

she thinks i am good to her because i am good. but its not true.
i love her because of her, not myself.
i am good for her because i want her to be happy with me, and i want to deserve the esteem she holds me in.

and in the core of my heart i know i'm just scrambling for reasons to ruin things,
because i'm happy in a way i've never been before.
and i hold onto her like i am afraid she'll vanish once my brain stops screaming at me.
i wonder how she can look at me and not be repelled like i am.

but i don't think i would hate myself if i were somebody else.
if i was a stranger, what would i think?
the truth is, i don't think I'm a bad person.
i think i am loved and that terrifies me.
because what have i done to deserve it?
it cannot be enough.

i was used to dealing with myself at my worst,
to licking my wounds like a cat in silence
but now she is here and determined to stay
and i want her to.
so if she wants to see everything i will let her,
and the rest is her choice to make
i love my gf but not myself it seems
Amanda Kay Burke Oct 2020
I thought you were my ride or die
Now I sit here asking why
Why do you not love me the way I love you?
Your feelings changing
Can’t mine change too?
I wish I did not care so it wouldn’t hurt this much
Run further away the tighter I clutch
I wish we were still same two people who fell head over heels
Watched as we changed
I hate how this feels
I told you my secrets and my biggest fears
In return you remained by my side throughout the years
You have made life better than I ever expected
Tried my best to keep you from feeling neglected
I know not the easiest person to be around
You’re there each time I need help up off the ground
I promise will never stop fighting for what we’ve got
A reason you overtake each and every thought
Are you lying?
You say you’re still in love with me
There’s someone else who with you'd rather be
When saying “always” I meant you’d always have my heart
Guess when you said it you meant I’d always have a part
But that piece I will cherish and save
Carry til I’m resting in my grave
I thought I would be your ride or die until the very end
Guess that to you our relationship is dead
I’ll always be your ride or die baby
Spriha Kant Sep 2020
Genuine polite and humble men are often misunderstood and tagged as flirty.May be because they are rarest of all the species , I guess.
Yashashvi Sep 2020
everyday I walk down the streets
I find plants yielding pretty flowers
most days I find trampled flowers
laying on the road still worthy enough to praise
do you ask me what interesting in it,
first answer me ,
do you pity the one laying on road
or the one accompanied by peduncle?
everyone glorify the stem with flower
even though it do die as sun sets down
shall I say you one verity
and the thing people don't heed
they don't adore the plant producing flowers
the sad thing is they don't notify
that the plant can still produces more beautiful flowers tomorrow

if you compare this with life it's so similar
people don't see or pity your catastrpohes, reverses
they just admire your adroitness
cherish you when you bloom as beautiful as  flower
so just like the plant surprise them with your capacity
don't worry about the trampled flowers
sometimes your flaws are prettiest too
you should let them down
but remember even if it's a trampled flower or nourished flower
both of them dies at end of the day
so hope for refreshing start and give the best you can.
does anyone see the worth of the trampled flowers?
and embrace the ability of the plant to give flowers?
one more thing if you ingore the second verse and just consider the first one
there's something in it , I don't know how people reflect on it but yes
I hope for new understandings
Cameron Aug 2020
I know how it feels to be lied to and alone.
You tore out the stitches in me you have sewn.
I should have guessed when "forever" you intoned.
In your eyes, forever is brief. I wish I had known.
mothwasher Jul 2020
you wanna take a guess? you wanna take a guess at this? guess nice long and hard. take a second guess if you need one. it’s ok to second guess. in fact, i insist you take another and keep guessing because guessing is smoke. in this tight circle, we’re taking guesses.

i am an educated guesser.

bummed guesses for awhile. bought my first guessing glass one July. play the guessing game all my days and guess my days away. they make guesses into the same thing as candles and its spiritual. it feels like taking an infinite number of guesses in one breath.

your guess is as good as mine.

drop to the next level. it is the doctor’s thesis of guessing. It is conjecture and formality, but with the fractal reasoning of a true American pack of guesses. they’re the guesses at the end of something replete. the last guess you have left.

out of guesses.

There is a string of panic tied to the last guess, which we tuck, flip, hide in the bottoms of cardstock caverns. when the time comes to draw the last straw,

B. there is nothing to guess at but a missing paycheck. These are the only answers we ever get.

A. she is there, all smiles and fresh questions with a bunch of guesses. she is my best guess yet.
Joshua r Hopkins Jun 2020
Bees, yellow and black with a six pack of knees.,
Freeze! it was a mellow attack but he stung my??🤣
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