Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I'm not one for Valentine's Day.
Love wrapped up and packaged into superficial nothingness
The meaning, the weight and beauty of love, made less,
stripped away and replaced with balloons and chocolates.
If you love someone you tell them
Tell them with the way you look at them,
with the way you touch them,
buy her flowers because its Tuesday
dress up for him because you wanna take his breath away
falling in love is a whirlwind of involuntary passion
staying in love is an action
showing love is a responsibility, a choice
don't dull the song of love's voice because it shouldn't be loudest but one day a year
interlock your fingers and breathe each other in
not for a holiday, do it for the grin, that blooms on her face more lovely than any roses in a vase OH dear
Love is not just once a year.
I love you everyday of the year.
Aquinas 4d
I'm so sick.
Talking about him,
talking about you,
telling my friends about us
like your name is someone else's.
If you're listening
at this party,
I hope you
hear the times
I hold back
from cracking jokes
with you.
Or at least
notice when
my lines
because I catch
your eye
Gale L Mccoy Feb 6
i dont want romance
the idea is glorious and pompous
and the longing to be something else
i still
never wish to fall in performance
nor duel reliance
all i seek are people
with commitment
not to me but to
meaning what they say
a bare backed willingness to be
honest and ambitious
their truest self in front of me
and thus allowing me
to be my truest self before them
and i wish
oh i still do wish
this would be considered
a simple friendship
Chris Feb 3
She's **** but I want her.
The truth is , we all know a gal like that.
And the truth is a lot like that gal.
toleomato Feb 3
I am justly inadequate
no one knows my name
the strangers I pass by
all treat me just the same.
They never ask about my day
or if I feel okay,
we look on, all in silence
repeating yesterday.

I am justly inadequate
I work hard to be not enough
my conscience is never heavy
but my heart isn't up to *****.
My hands are warm and loving,
callused, hard and rough,
a willing heart without a reason
just never will be enough.

I am justly inadequate
I stare out windows thinking that
if I could just be someone else
then I would get a chance
to be the man I could have been
but as I am, I know I can't.

I am justly inadequate
no one knows my name.
And every time I try to laugh
I can only muster shame.
I try to smile,
once in a while,
to trick the gloom away,
but I still know that I am
inadequate any day.
But I am not you
I could not understand
The shock barely believed you
Confessing his ***** hands

It rolled off like water from duck
And I think I have plumbed the depths
And gone the distance

But I am not you
I don't know what its like
To have been abused
For you to believe that you didn't fight
For all those years

Im not sorry I cant understand
Its a much much deeper remorse than that
Clutching at my hidden fears
But don't think that means we cant go there
Or that I will chicken out and leave you crushed behind
Never ever
Please begin to trust yourself and take my hand
And show me your strength
The ebbs and flows
You need to heal me into your pain
I am not you
You are beautiful
You are strong
You did fight
But the war is long
And here you are still on the front line
Never backing down
Advancing with time
For many years you were a soldier of truth in a battalion of one

I need a medic
My emotions have burst
Someone stretcher me off

Im not you
But im here in the trenches
Im not turning back
We're in this
We're buying time back

I didn't really craft these words
That's creepy
They are just the truth unfiltered
Im sorry there's no structure
But who would want to build a monster

Im not ashamed anymore of saying what I feel to you
I am becoming you
believe me
Chloe Jan 27
Beautiful words
From the awfully depressed

Hear them say
It will all be ok

Creative creatures
Words can be teachers
A short 3 paragraph poem on my feelings about what poetry is
Can i say—
your absence is a relief. Your lack of response gives me nothing but comfort and i know, i will not see your name pop up just yet 'cause how can you reply to "im sorry i can't take the risk to jump so i vanished" and to "i'm sorry i opened the door but no, i'm not inviting you in" or to "i'm sorry but i'm just here to say sorry (and have no intention of 'fixing' you)" because i don't think my broken bones can lift the tools any longer.
I say yet because almost always you pop right back the last minute, trying. I hope this time would be the last.
I say i sorry in every sentence, you thought i was letting you in.
It's sort of funny in the saddest way.
To find pieces of myself in a man that was never really a part of my life at all.
I wish I knew you well enough to have memories other than playing trivia at a table by the bar watching you stay well past last call.
Fighting with your wife over who would drive home.
Spending every other weekend you had with me staring at the bottom of empty bottles.
And slurring "I love you's" like I might believe them.
Isn't it all I ever wanted?
To be loved by you?
And does anything ever really change?
Can people really change?
You were sober for 5 years after you almost lost your life.
But now I keep waking up to drunk text messages.
Parallel to your drunken confessions in the middle of the night while six year old me tried to comfort you.
Biting my tongue and staring at the cieling fan so I wouldn't cry.
I don't have to hide the tears anymore because you're in another city and I won't ever tell you how bad you hurt me.
But Dad I keep letting men hurt me who tell me they love me at 2 am and I wish I didn't feel like it's because of you.
I don't know if this is poetry at all
Next page