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Natasha 1h
I cry for all the nights I spent without you
The nights I missed you, still linger deep within my heart.
Even now, it feels as if you’re still gone sometimes.
But don’t worry I’m fine
It’s all just tricks in my mind.
I suppose we both learn things
As we make our paths in time.

I just hate to say that I’ve missed
Any hours with you
That I was absent for the moments
In which you needed arms around you.

That you were ever not okay
That your knees trembled to the ground
That you were ever sad
And I was nowhere to be found.

I’ve let not only you, but myself down.

It’s my cross to bear, what happened
I’ll wear it with sadness and shame
And carry it through the dark, quiet night
Or through the thunderous pouring rain.

Until the day, sunshine breaks way
And I can forget all that happened yesterday
Until I can look in your eyes
And not let guilt break my gaze

Until you believe that I am willing to fight
For you, for us, for everything
Until my dying day.

I love you.
And that, is here to stay.
Just some 2am emotional stuff I don’t know what it even means
Despair 5h
Du noir nait la lumière...

Et la tristesse est née le bonheur...
(This is in French)
Emma 9h
In times past,
I would see love
Where only rage and ****
Had made their home.
Until I knew you, I thought love meant
Bruised legs and
Vultures making a home of my skin.

I thought it meant
And empty packets of pills waiting to be
Swept up by a weeping mother
As she realised what had been done.
I did not know
How good love could be
Until I knew you.

But since knowing you,
You have shown me what
Love can truly mean.
It is by no means perfect.
It is not always happy,
But it is real.
It does not mean starving lips
Stealing innocence from unwilling souls.
It means comfort in simply existing.

And whilst we are not in love
I can honestly say,
With my whole heart,
I love you.
I trust you.
And thank you,
For showing me it didn’t always have
To be this way.
Keyan R 10h
Flopping is,
Better than flipping out
Rolling with it
Falling in love with him terrifies me
But not because I am scared of heartbreak
Her and I are quite intimate

I fear that this is the last first
last first date
last first kiss
last first I love you
mumbled from nervous lips

I worry that we will fall so deep into each other
that we won't be complete without the other

He might just be
the love of my life
and I don't know if I am ready for that
In 6 months when he moves away to his new job hundreds of miles away and we can't make it work, I will feel silly about this poem. But right now he makes me feel thing I have never felt before
At night and when you are sleeping,
I can see you bare in all of your skin and all the flaws that make you human.
I trace circles of flesh and rainbows in bruises;
Every scar and scratch,
Every flourishing freckle,
Everything that makes you, you.

There’s a kaleidoscope of veins that cascade colourful fractions of your heart into mine.
Every boorish blue and radiant red,
Every drop of your waterfall of thoughts from inside your head,
Everything that makes me love you like I do.

And yet part of me wants to fully engulf you, so you’re not simply just ***** but so you, like I become truly infatuated.
I want to smooth out that frown like a crumpled piece of paper.
Every heavy sigh and weighty wonder,
Every restriction that dampens your day,
Everything that reduces that part of you who,
Takes that light bulb moment and creates a projection of the most beautiful smile in all of creation;
And proposes a sentiment of love for my eyes to lap up, and up until our demise.
Solaces 15h
I. The sad ones..
II.Poems about despair..
III.The loneliness..
IV.The sharp and dull cutting of depression..

I. I smile when I am with you. We are not the sad ones but the happy ones through and through..

II. I can write about how despair wants in on our peace.. How hopelessness is trying to break through our little army of hope.. But in the end and always trying to begin our little army prevails everytime.

III. The loneliness is simply lonely. All the time. Simply because if you are not with me you're still by my side.. Loneliness tries and sends isolation toward us.  But is greeted by our friendship and companionship..  Those two form an equation that when worked out over a long period of time equals to Love..

IV.  Depression waves around its sharp sword and tries to stab with its dull knife.  The sword is poison with regret. And the knifes handle is made out of worthlessness.. But regret is but a frame in our mind.  The now and forward create a new canvas that we can paint over all of the regrets.  We can always create instead of destroy.  Make things more grand and full of joy.  The worthlessness simply fades away because of your smile.  Thats all I needed. We paint on each other smiles on our faces everyday.. And its all worth it! Because you are worth it all!
You have the ability to always fight all of these. And you always have the weapons to do it.
Through the lens of a camera, everything appears far away. It's easy to feel nothing when you designate yourself a spectator.
My girlfriend was a spectator. All the time, she was carrying a camera in her delicate, pale hands. My mother had a name for delicate and thin hands: "artist fingers." My girlfriend used to call herself an artist.
"Mom, do you think Rebecca is a good girlfriend to me?"
My mother looked at me. Her glasses reflected the light from the living room lamp. I couldn't see her eyes. I was petting my cat while I spoke to her, and as I looked at my mother, my grip tightened. She opened her mouth to speak.
My girlfriend broke up with me via a Skype call. I watched her through the camera. She didn't look at me. Our relationship lasted a year and a half. I sobbed. She didn't look at the camera. It's easy to be a spectator. It's easy to not look at anything.
I raised my eyes.
My best friend was watching me. "Can you move your leg a little?"
Once I did, he lifted his camera. He took some pictures of me.
"Vincent... can I talk to you about something?"
He paused, and then lowered the camera.
"I had a fight with Rebecca."
Something in his eyes changed. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would have missed it.
January. "She said bad things about you."
My heart beat a little harder. My lungs hurt.
"I don't care."
I didn't look at him.
We were lying side by side. I looked at her. I had given her a necklace of guitar picks. It rested on her collarbones.
Suddenly, I said, "If we break up, promise me you're not going to throw away the necklace."
She looked at me. She had blue and green eyes, so beautiful. My mother often said that she had striking eyes.
"I promise."
I remember how, during our dates, she used to take pictures of the sky. I found it cute.
Vincent always thought that it was cliché.
My psychologist was watching me. "I'm not judging you."
I was silent. I looked at my fingers. Thin. Fine. I was an artist too. But she was the artist.
"How can you know that I'm not judging you if you don't look at me?"
A moment. She leaned back in the chair. Another moment. I remember that I could hear the ticking of her clock.
It came quietly. "Sorry."
I was at a party, talking with a pretty girl. The noise of the party seemed muted, somehow. Suddenly, she took one of my hands.
"I like your hands. You have such beautiful fingers."
She looked at me.
"Like an artist."
I looked at her. She had brown eyes, like dark chocolate. Striking. She was smiling just a little bit. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would have missed it. I laughed.
"Like an artist..." I repeated.
She laughed too, a little embarrassed. Her laugh was joyous, almost musical.
I smiled.
so i know this isn't a poem per se, but i wrote it for a short story class and i wanted to share it. enjoy!
I never wrote
happy poems

(And even if I could,
They weren’t any good.)

But with you,
I do.
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